Five minutes after the supposed start of the concert, the four trumpeters came out with a pianist, bassist and drummer to back them up. The tallest trumpeter, James Andrews peered into the orchestra seating and up into the balcony. I could tell he was disappointed that the side sections of the orchestra were barely filled. I wasn't expecting too much, but the first song proved me wrong. The shortest musician on stage, Kermit Ruffins was dressed like a cool cat from the 1950s in a black suit and a matching black hat not unlike the one Frank Sinatra liked to wear. Seeing the turnout, he didn't attempt to liven things up by treating it like a stand-up comedy routine. He didn't ask us how we were doing. He just simply said in a slightly raspy somber voice, "We're gonna start off with something called, "The Whoopin' Blues." At that moment, I knew I was going to enjoy this concert. They had exuberant spirit and kinetic energy, and the audience could feel their enthusiasm pulsing through the venue.

All directly affected by the devastation of the New Orleans flood, JVC Jazz Festival director George Wein managed to gather these four immensely talented brass virtuosos at the Kaye Playhouse yesterday night. The teaspoon of pity I had for them at the beginning of the concert was quickly cast off as they played the first tune. Each of the seven musicians on stage had their own charms and was each quite skilled in their own fields. This is the first time that I can actually say I didn't have a favorite, someone notable and better than the others. They each contributed their own abilities and vivacity, making the ensemble a potent recipe.

Despite the fact that the balcony was probably empty, the septet mustered enough oomph to fill the whole 684-seat venue. Largely due to trumpeter James Andrews' dynamic ability to get the crowd up and moving, each tune alternated between upbeat and cacophonous to light and cool. This approach to the program, however, did not take away from the performance. Pianist David Torkanowsky had dexterous fingers well suited to the sprightly melodies of New Orleans jazz; drummer Herlin Riley was born with an inherent sense of rhythm; and bassist Roland Guerin complemented the powerful trumpet section as the backbone of every song, marking each tune as jazz in its purest form. It was then the trumpeters' job to mark this concert as what it was, a celebration of the trumpet in New Orleans jazz. Entitled "Clarion Call: A New Orleans Trumpet Celebration," you would think that four trumpets would inevitably overpower the other instruments. On the contrary, they only boosted the effervescent energy circulating in the theatre.

Not to mention the lovely yet comedic vocals brought to the fore by Ruffins and Andrews. When Ruffins came out to perform a solo rendition of "On the Sunny Side of the Street," I was elated because I knew the song through Dinah Washington. Though Ruffins could never rival Washington, he was unique nonetheless. Rearranging the lyrics and swaggering to and fro, Ruffins was adorable and charming. James Andrews also had an endearing quality. Just when things seemed to be calming down, he'd stir it up again. The most charismatic of the septet, Andrews always encouraged the audience to stand up every time he came out. When he and Ruffins sang "What a Wonderful World," he made the funniest joke of the night. As he sang, "I hear babies cry..." he encouraged Ruffins to use his trumpet to make a whimpering sound, and the audience burst into laughter. Andrews never ceased to make us smile and laugh throughout the concert. The youngest player of the bunch, Christian Scott is a gifted trumpeter who held his own among his more experienced and older peers on stage. Dressed in an ivory Sean Jean jacket, blue jeans and a sparkling diamond earring, Scott's serious yet often smiling face was definitely easy on the eyes.

What element makes New Orleans jazz unique? Before the concert, I couldn't have answered that question at all. By the end of the night though, I could feel it. I knew exactly why New Orleans was the birthplace of blues and jazz. Besides engendering jazz with brass and distinctive rhythm and blues, the Louisiana city has produced a brand of virtuosic musicians who truly bring jazz to life. Because of people like Andrews and Ruffins, jazz created a sense of community in the audience last night. This is what marks New Orleans jazz for me. It was jazz Djarara--which shouldn't be too much of a surprise as both genres of rara and jazz borrow from Creole culture. It's concerts like these that make live music so great. When you listen to a CD, can you see the musicians' dynamic rapport? Can you tell how serious (or how carefree) they are? Can you see audience members coming up on stage to dance with the musicians? Only a concert celebrating New Orleans jazz must know what a concert is and should be--a celebration of community, culture and music.