Tag Archives: barn dance

WHERE THE COOL KIDS HANG OUT: CARL SONNY LEYLAND, MARTY EGGERS, JEFF HAMILTON (July 26, 2018: Longmont, Colorado)

Wow, what a time!  Dorothy and Frank Vernon put on a regular series of events in their beautiful barn in Longmont, Colorado: I’d been to one of their evenings in 2016 (see here) and couldn’t wait to come back.  Before you read a word more, check out their site here.  I was not ever a Cool Kid in school, but in their barn I feel as if my new self fits very comfortably, surrounded as I am by love and swing.

You can learn more here and get on their email list.  Carl Sonny Leyland, piano, vocals, and spiritual guidance; Marty Eggers, string bass and serious joy; Jeff Hamilton, drums and surprise — these are very Cool Kids and heroes of mine.

(And this took place the night before the Evergreen Jazz Festival — so it was a delicious appetizer to that swing banquet, where Carl, Marty, and Jeff also made deep friends through music.)

I wouldn’t just write about the barn dance without offering some evidence of the joy to be found there.  Here are four beautiful effusions: rocking, splendidly deep, full of wonderful harmonic, melodic, rhythmic twists and turns.

Talk about swing!  This performance starts rocking immediately and keeps on without needing to be plugged in to the wall to recharge its battery:

Courtesy of the Harlem Hamfats, a kind request to one’s Squeeze:

the most famous rag of all, but pay attention:

and a jazz classic but nicely outfitted for 2018:

Beautiful tempos, irresistible propulsion.  I feel good when these fellows are in charge of the music: I hope you do, too.  Blessings on them and on Frank and Dorothy — and happy birthday to Judy!

May your happiness increase!

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DELICATELY INTENSE: TAMAR KORN and FRIENDS in CONCERT: PART ONE (August 4, 2012)

I’ve been listening, entranced, to Tamar Korn four almost four years now, and I first recorded her in November 2008, at the East Village bar, Banjo Jim’s.  She was then a charter member of the Cangelosi Cards, a group that mixed Twenties hot jazz, Quintette of the Hot Club of France, Fats Waller, Jimmie Rodgers, and what I think of as barn-dance music.  It is possible that the first time I heard her was at the end of a Sunday night at The Ear Inn, where everyone was entranced by her singing.  Later, she has appeared with Dennis Lichtman’s Brain Cloud, Gordon Au’s Grand Street Stompers, and with small groups of her own.

Tamar was not merely a singer who had chosen to mimic an assortment of unusual vocal breaks and yodels, adding to this a muted trumpet simulation that would have won the hearts of the Mills Brothers, and an air-violin that was both another way to get to the heart of the melody and a loving evocation of her father, an expert violinist.  Her background was originally in theatre, so she delighted in experimenting with the possibilities of her voice, a remarkable instrument in itself.  Her approach is deceptively delicate but intense, and she makes each song into a small drama, arching from quiet expositions to near-operatic climaxes, her improvisations becoming more and more brave.  But she always swings.

I usually saw and recorded Tamar in places where people were chatting, drinking, laughing . . . understandable but distracting.  So when I had the chance to capture her and the Cards at the Shambhala Meditation Center in New York City (February 27, 2010), it was a cherished experience.  (Thanks to Paul Wegener!)  Here is one segment of that evening.

I thought that the concert at the Shambhala would be the only time I would be able to see and hear Tamar and friends in such a peaceful place.

But I am happy to report that through the good offices of all the musicians and the Varshavsky family, I was able to bring my video camera to the Porto Franco Art Center at 953 Valencia Street in San Francisco . . . and share the divine music with you.

Tamar was joined by her New York friends Gordon Au, trumpet; Dennis Lichtman, clarinet and violin; Rob Adkins, string bass, and SF’s remarkable Craig Ventresco, guitar and banjo.

LAZY RIVER:

A fast SOMEDAY SWEETHEART:

I’VE GOT A FEELIN’ I’M FALLIN’:

IF YOU WANT THE RAINBOW (You Must Have The Rain):

ANNIVERSARY WALTZ:

WHEN YOU WORE A TULIP:

Miss Korn is amazing.  But so are Messrs. Au, Lichtman, Adkins, and Ventresco, each of them a sweet explorer, searching deep into the music.

Another set awaits.

May your happiness increase.

ROLLICKING! WHIT SMITH and MATT MUNISTERI: “HELL AMONG THE HEDGEHOGS”

The new CD by Whit Smith, Matt Munisteri, and Tim Luntzel,  HELL AMONG THE HEDGEHOGS is a delight, so varied and lively, that I have found myself playing it twice in a row, enjoying it more each time.

I know that you can’t listen to the cover, but even the wry drawing (the cover of an imagined hip children’s book) by Ariella Huff says something about the CD’s witty, swinging sensibility:

Some of you will be ready to order it right now — so why should I burden you with details?  You can accomplish that goal right here or (if you feel Amazonian) here — or if you like all things Baby, then here.

I always think that the absolute best way, should you want a tangible disc, is to buy it from the artist at a gig — doubling your pleasure and the artist’s — but I know that isn’t convenient for everyone.

Whit and Matt, peerless guitarists, romp on “two old Gibson electric guitars,” with their distinctive sound — and are joined by the fine string bassist Tim Luntzel.  The sessions were recorded in 2010, and they sound real, with no studio trickery or tension.  The final track comes from a live session at Barbes in Brooklyn — and has some impromptu crowd support, as is appropriate.

Guitarists will want this disc immediately: it is a casual, playful series of tumbling conversations between two players who swing intuitively, whose epigrammatic phrases and long lines ring in the mind.  The brief comments on the back of the paper sleeve distinguish Whit and Matt for those not immediately familiar with the sound of each player: “Whit’s sound is more compact and warm; Matt has more treble and gloss; Whit is tighter and dry; Matt is slithery and wet.  Whit is hedgehog, Matt is muskrat.”

Now we can move on, having cleared that up.

The sound of the three string instruments suggests — at turns — shirt-sleeved daredevils on the shady porch, creating new paths through familiar melodies, taking their time.  At times a ringing phrase suggests Bix or Louis, George Barnes or Chet Atkins — or the local train meandering through the history of intimate swing playing of the last ninety years.  You’ll hear a barn dance and a Harlem jam session of 1941.  Nothing drags or races; everyone explores the open vistas of rocking Medium Tempos in light-hearted ways.

Whit sings ALONG THE NAVAJO TRAIL; Matt offers SINGIN’ THE BLUES with the never-heard verse.  Those two selections will indicate the wide range of the nine songs: from obscure pop songs to hokum to jazz classics to one by Eldon Shamblin and Tiny Moore, YOU JUST TAKE HER.  The songs show a deep immersion in the jazz tradition — MUSKRAT RAMBLE, DEEP HENDERSON, a Coleman Hawkins line, TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING; a Sidney Bechet tune, OKEY DOKE.  But don’t think that this CD is jazz archaeology, dusty jazz idolatries.  Certainly not.  The classic lines are used as foundations for energetic, joyous playing.  The title track — an original by Whit — is a left-handed consideration of STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE (to my ears) full of surprises.  And no CD that ends with YOU’RE BOUND TO LOOK LIKE A MONKEY WHEN YOU GROW OLD (one of those tough truths no one wants to hear) can be overly serious, can it?

I never cared much for muskrats and hedgehogs before this, but I’ve changed my mind.  You will, too.