The use of the word legend to describe an artist often draws cries of hyperbole. In a musical climate where acts become blockbusters seemingly overnight and evaporate into obscurity just as quickly, it's all too easy to forget about a truly enigmatic icon like Dave Brubeck.

Aside from a stint in the army during World War 2, the 88-year-old jazz pianist has been composing and performing since he graduated from the University of the Pacific in 1942.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of "Time Out," an album for which descriptors like "landmark," "innovative" and "groundbreaking" were coined.

Critically panned upon its release, the seven-song exercise in odd time signatures single-handedly changed the perceptions of jazz for casual and serious fans alike, and is now considered a classic in the genre, as well as being the first jazz album to sell a million copies.

Paul Desmond's smooth saxophone lines helped ease the jarring time signatures of bassist Eugene Wright and drummer Joe Morello, while Brubeck laid melodic piano runs over each performance. The album -- especially its hit single, the now-standard "Take Five" -- was a perfect melding of odd meter changes and occasional excursions into international music styles, all made accessible with memorable leads that belied the material's complexity. The outlandish post-modern cover art and heady musicianship on "Time Out" cemented it as a cornerstone of the new era of jazz, leading the way into the 60s with a different take on the genre.

On Friday, Sept. 18, Brubeck made a rare Sacramento appearance at the center courtyard of the Radisson Hotel, eschewing his regular performances at his alma mater, which is also home to an institute that bears his name.

A quartet from the Dave Brubeck Institute opened the night. While the members were just barely old enough to vote, they played with a refined touch that mirrored Brubeck's own classic lineup.

Aside from a few covers, the four skilled young players performed original pieces, the first of which was composed by saxophonist Chad Lefkowitz-Brown. The song, called "Still Here," began with a quick-ride cymbal workout from drummer Corey Fonville, which was anchored by bassist Zach Brown to form a sturdy foundation for the lead instruments that gave meaning to the composition's reaffirming title. Both Lefkowitz-Brown and pianist Noah Kellman got a solo, provoking call and response interplay between the two instruments before Fonville took the song home with rolling tom fills.

"315" was next, a tune from Kellman named after his hometown's area code in New York. In keeping with the city theme, the song had a pronounced urban feel to it, with a strong, upbeat tempo and an incredible bass solo. The quartet finally converged into one after a few minutes of rhythmic experimentation and locked into a swinging melody that lasted for the rest of the number.

If Marian McPartland is jazz piano's reigning queen, then Dave Brubeck is, without question, its king. This fact was made apparent once again when Mayor Kevin Johnson gave Brubeck a key to the city of Sacramento in return for the autographed piano key Johnson had once received from him. The award is another in the string of many Brubeck has received over the years, including a recent announcement from the Kennedy Center that he will be honored for excellence in the performing arts on Dec. 6.

All of this seemed to roll off of the man of the night, who seemed to simply want to sit at his throne and play the instrument he has mastered over the years.

When all awards and honors are given and done with, what's striking about Brubeck is his humility. He eased into his piano chair (no longer a stool, presumably for back comfort) and entered his own world, where myriad melodies, tonalities and rhythms cohabited and cooperated in ways which no other living jazz musician can coax with such ease.

Brubeck's set was mostly comprised of a Duke Ellington medley, a nice mix of songs and styles that brought cheers from the 1,000 or so people in attendance, especially when he finished his first solo. He smiled uncontrollably, likely the same expression he's always had during his thousands of previous concerts. At one point Brubeck let out a loud, "Oh!" in reaction to bassist Michael Moore's proficient use of his bow during a solo.

A tune called "Travellin' Blues," about Brubeck's wife, Lola, waiting at home while he toured, was an emotional centerpiece to the concert. The four players hinted at a groove before joining together for the refrain. Saxophonist Bobby Militello played a powerful solo comprised of massive sustained notes that could have easily been a heart-wrenching Bessy Smith ballad had they been vocalized.

In between songs, Brubeck spoke about his life as a musician. The next day's lengthy itinerary had the hard-touring road veteran slightly nervous.

"We're heading to Redwood City to play, and then it's on to Monterrey for the [annual] jazz festival," Brubeck said. "Rather than stay in a nice hotel for the rest of the day, we just keep going onto another gig; but that's the way we live, if you can call that living. Getting there and playing, though, that is the living."

During another break Brubeck mentioned that in 1958, President Eisenhower commissioned his quartet to play in various nations across the globe to spread good will.

One country was Turkey, where he and his bandmates were inspired by the regional music enough to compose Time Out's "Blue Rondo à la Turk." He then announced he would not play said piece that night, citing the tune in the challenging 9/8 time signature as a "real finger buster."

When someone in the front row requested "Take Five" instead, Brubeck responded with mock indignation -- "If that's what you want, then that's what you're going to get" -- before his fingers nimbly counted out the opening notes of the signature number.

Militello echoed the late Paul Desmond's sax melody perfectly and the rest of the band rode the song's groove until they broke for drummer Randy Jones to hammer out an extended solo filled with dramatic cymbal crashes and harrowing snare rolls. The rest of the members were as transfixed as the audience, with Brubeck even standing up to peek around his piano to watch the sticks fly before settling back in to return the piece to its central theme.

Before the audience noticed, almost two hours had passed and the quartet was still playing.

To end the set, Brubeck joked with the crowd by playing the melody of the nursery rhyme "Go to Sleep, Little Baby" before going into a final tune.

In total, the audience rose three times to give a standing ovation before sitting down after realizing that Brubeck was not going to forfeit his throne before he played every last note he could. The man clearly lives for music, whether playing it to audiences the world over or a quasi-hometown gathering. He is, as the Library of Congress has designated him to be, a living legend.

Photo credits to Jonathan Mendick. I don't know what technial wizardry he used to get these shots. He made the best out of a pretty rough lighting situation and came away with some great images.