The big bands are back! Or at least they were back in Vancouver on June 26. The massed brass and big names of the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra went head-to-head with the lesser lights and larger sound of Darcy James Argue’s Secret Society, and those who managed to make both shows generally agreed that this heavyweight bout ended in a draw.

Playing at the Orpheum, Vancouver International Jazz Festival headliner Wynton Marsalis led the JLCO through a program that was heavily weighted toward the classic sounds of Duke Ellington—and to good effect. A re-creation of the Duke’s original 1930 arrangement of “Mood Indigo” featured trumpeter Kenny Rampton, clarinetist Walter Blanding, Jr., and trombonist Vincent Gardner clustered around a single microphone, creating a sound that was as close to time travel as we’re ever likely to experience. Later on, Joe Temperley stepped up to play “The Single Petal of a Rose” on bass clarinet; accompanied only by Rowan Atkinson look-alike Dan Nimmer on piano, he provided a tender respite from an otherwise hard-charging set.

It’s hard not to see the JLCO as the musical embodiment of American optimism. Whether playing Ellington’s “Black and Tan Fantasy”, Joe Henderson’s “Inner Urge”, or Chick Corea’s “Mambo X”, the musicians swaggered with justifiable confidence. Even Herbie Hancock’s “The Riot” came across as upbeat, perhaps because drummer Ali Jackson was having so much fun with its smash-and-grab beats. (Introducing that last number, Marsalis took the opportunity to soothe our city’s fragile soul by making light of its recent troubles. “That was a mini riot,” he said. “Now Watts, that was a riot!”)

Across the street at the Vogue Theatre, the mood was darker and more pensive for North Vancouver–born Argue’s return to his native land. In contrast to Marsalis’s jazz classicism, the Brooklyn-based bandleader and conductor is open to influences from rock and minimalism; musically, this translates to a sound that’s more about moody layers of musical ambiance than effervescent counterpoint.

That said, Secret Society performed with an energy and singularity of purpose that at times eclipsed the jocular professionalism of the JLCO. Where Argue’s band fell down, however, was in its soloists. Of Secret Society’s 18 players, only one—trumpeter Ingrid Jensen—would be capable of holding down a chair in Marsalis’s band, and for some inexplicable reason she was limited to a single turn in the spotlight. By evening’s end we were left wishing that Argue could borrow some of the JLCO’s musicians—and that Marsalis would commission the Canadian to write some 21st-century charts.

New Orleans is not only the birthplace of jazz; historically, it’s also been home to any number of bizarre cults, snake-oil schemes, mojo vendors, and black vaudevillians. Combine them all, add Michael Jackson’s moonwalk, Marvin Gaye’s falsetto, and a generous helping of ham-fisted rock guitar, and you’ve got Trombone Shorty, soon to be a major star, and jazz purists be damned.

Shorty—aka Troy Andrews—isn’t without musical appeal. He’s got great chops on both trumpet and trombone, and he’s building on the Sixth Ward marching-band tradition by incorporating the sounds of Cuba and, more remarkably, Eastern Europe into his mix. But all that’s eclipsed, and quite intentionally so, by his star power. Lean and energetic, he’d be an attention-getter even without the Bono-sized confidence he displayed at the Vogue Theatre on June 27.

Playing the crowd like it was a remote-controlled toy, Shorty and his Orleans Avenue band had the crowd on its feet within moments of taking the stage, before leading the revellers through a nearly two-hour-long mix of hard funk, soft soul, lite metal, and amped-up Bulgarian wedding music. Apart from a fine cover of Allen Toussaint’s “On Your Way Down”, second-line strutting was surprisingly absent. The bandleader did pay tribute to another New Orleans icon, Louis Armstrong, with an exuberant rendition of “On the Sunny Side of the Street” on which he used an everyday avant-garde technique, circular breathing, to hold on to a single trumpet note for what seemed like five minutes. The crowd went wild.

Never mind that this was more medicine-show trickery than musical genius: it worked. When Shorty comes back—and he promised he would—expect to see him on a bigger stage. And after that? I’m making a prediction: when Hollywood gets word of his talent, it won’t be long before Andrews hits the silver screen.