Duke Robillard & Scott Hamilton
‘Swingin’ Again’
Birdland, Through August 12 

“I Never Knew” was the first tune called on the first show of the first evening of a five-night run at Birdland by guitarist Duke Robillard and tenor saxophonist Scott Hamilton. The title of this 1925 song, by bandleader-composer Ted Fio Rito and lyricist Gus Kahn, turned out to be prophetic. 

Everybody knows Mr. Robillard as a leading figure on the contemporary blues scene — playing every variety of the music, from the rough-hewn country blues to more polished, urbane forms like R&B, with headlining groups like Roomful of Blues, The Fabulous Thunderbirds, and his own bands — but it’s a surprise to hear him playing swinging jazz with commanding figures like the eloquent Mr. Hamilton and the outstanding trumpeter Jon-Erik Kellso. Like the song says, we never knew.

It turns out that Messrs. Robillard and Hamilton both spent their formative years in the vibrant jazz-and-blues scene of Rhode Island in the 1960s and ’70s, and worked together as young players. Mr. Robillard has done occasional jazz projects — such as two sets of guitar duets with the late master Herb Ellis — and Mr. Hamilton is as imposing a blues stylist as anybody playing today.  

Along with Mr. Kellso — who is most frequently heard at Birdland on Mondays with Vince Giordano’s Nighthawks and on Sundays with his long-running quartet, The Ear-Regulars, at the Ear Inn at Tribeca (they have a new album; keep watching this space) — the three of them formed a formidable front line, with Mr. Robillard doubling in the rhythm section, along with bassist Neal Miner, pianist Bruce Bears, and drummer Mark Teixeira.

On the first two tunes, “I Never Knew” and “All of Me,” Mr. Robillard showed himself to be a fine swing-style guitarist, in the manner of Chris Flory, who is scheduled to make an appearance with this sextet at Birdland on Thursday, and the late Bucky Pizzarelli, who were directly influenced by swing era string colossi like Charlie Christian and Oscar Moore.  

Three tunes in, we got our first blues, which, unexpectedly, was “Soft Winds,” a rather sophisticated number — almost a “stealth blues” — from the Benny Goodman/Charlie Christian book. Here, Mr. Kellso took the opportunity to growl through a mute in the manner of Cootie Williams during his year with the Goodman group. Then things immediately turned several shades bluer with a very basic 12-bar out of Kansas City, Jay McShann’s “Lonely Boy Blues,” which turned out to be the only point in the evening when Mr. Robillard sang. 

It was a remarkably relaxed performance, especially for the first set of a run. This was a very loose jam session that seemed completely spontaneous and, as the kids say, chill. It’s rare to experience such a laid back vibe in a New York jazz club, where the energy is usually the thing. The set harkened back to the old jazz parties of the ’80s and ’90s, mounted by the long-departed likes of Dick Gibson and Matt Domber.  

This was mainly due to the presence of Mr. Hamilton, who has the ability to seem completely at ease no matter how fast the tempo. Drawing on the legacies of both Ben Webster and Lester Young, he is one of the more major figures on his instrument. I’m old enough to remember hearing Zoot Sims, Al Cohn, and even Stan Getz live, and Scott Hamilton gives me the same kind of buzz. He’s worth catching every time he plays, and any record he makes is worth buying.

They followed the slow blues with a fast jam riff number, “Cadillac Slim,” first recorded in 1946 by Ben Webster and Benny Carter with drummer Sid Catlett, who’s credited as composer. The tune is a first cousin of Billy Strayhorn’s “Raincheck,” with a different bridge and an “I Got Rhythm” foundation, which Mr. Hamilton illuminated with a brief quote from “Lester Leaps In.” 

Duke Ellington’s “Just Squeeze Me” lived up to its reputation as a teasing, coy number, catching Messrs. Robillard and Hamilton at their bouncy best, with Mr. Kellso honoring the Ducal tradition of highly vocalized, tightly muted brass — he almost sounded more like trombonist Tricky Sam Nanton than any trumpeter.  

It was an outstanding set, all the more so for the apparent spontaneity — a true jam of the kind we haven’t experienced in a while, perfect for a balmy August evening. Most artists lean into their strengths, but Messrs. Robillard and Hamilton barely drew on theirs at all: Mr. Robillard only sang once, and there was only one really bluesy-blues; Mr. Hamilton never got to play the slow, romantic ballads that are one of his specialties, though he distilled a lot of erotic feeling into the slow blues. 

They ended with a rousing “When You’re Smiling,” where, again, Mr. Hamilton soloed in a way that was aggressive and mellow at the same time. Don’t ask me how.