Howard Fishman's Brass Band Celebrates

Howard Fishman has a fondness for old things and a knack for restoring them. A decade ago that combination of traits led to his first big New York engagement, at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel. Leading a spry quartet, he dusted off the cameos and curios of a vanished era, drawing no distinctions among Dixieland, bluegrass and Gypsy swing.

Mr. Fishman, a charismatic rhythm guitarist and an endearingly low-key singer, still has his fathomless cache of songs. And he still has his quartet, which will return to the Oak Room on Sunday night. But he has also diversified in recent years. His Basement Tapes Project reclaims the repertory associated with Bob Dylans most obsessed-over period. His theatrical oratorio, We Are Destroyed, contemplates the frontier tragedy of the Donner Party. His Biting Fish Brass Band borrows the strut of New Orleans street music.

Each of these outlets has been mobilized for Mr. Fishmans 10th-anniversary celebration, slated to run through Dec. 18 at a handful of different spaces. Its a programming stunt, transparently. But its also true to Mr. Fishmans natural commemorative urge, even if he does seem to be on the receiving end of his own salute.

The festivities began late on Tuesday night, during the after-hours set at Dizzys Club Coca-Cola. Seated with his weathered acoustic Gibson, Mr. Fishman opened with a Jesus on the Mainline buoyed by the second-line groove of his drummer, Jordan Perlson. The heft and swagger of the arrangement had more to do with his expert horns: Jose Davila on tuba, Etienne Charles on trumpet and Roland Barber on trombone.

This was the Biting Fish Brass Band, formed six months ago in tribute to New Orleans, where Mr. Fishman began the journeyman phase of his career as a street musician. The repertory was typically eclectic, including a loose funk adaptation of Mexican Radio, the 1980s new-wave hit. Later Mr. Fishman made a more traditional offering with the Cajun anthem La Danse de Mardi Gras, driving it onward with the stomp of his foot and the strum of his guitar.

He hung back in the group, often ceding the spotlight to his sidemen, who soloed compellingly and at length. He entrusted Mr. Barber with a vocal feature Shell Be Coming Round the Mountain, at a sweet-molasses tempo and generally seemed content to be the least dynamic member of his crew.

But on the early-jazz chestnut Hesitating Blues, he drew in the focus with deceptively casual authority. His unaccompanied preface was sparse and soulful, and there was deep feeling behind his singing. Tell me, how long will I have to wait? he sighed in a quiet, unguarded voice, making it easy to trust his grasp of stymied ardor.

Howard Fishman performs at various locations around the New York City through December 18.