Dave Stuckey (“Pappy” to his intimates) is a rewarding example of something the Ancients knew well . . . the Ancients being Louis Armstrong, Bob Wills, Wingy Manone, Fats Waller, and a hundred others: that good music is also by definition entertaining, that even people who had never heard of Clarence Williams or Hilton Jefferson should be patting their feet and grinning if the people onstage understand their purpose.
And he doesn’t only know that truth, he lives it — in his rocking rhythm, his congenial vocalizing, and the friendly environment he and the Hot House Gang bring to live in performance.
Here’s some delightful evidence from his second set at the Redwood Coast Music Festival, where his Gang was the very best. They were Marc Caparone, trumpet; Nate Ketner, clarinet and tenor saxophone; Katie Cavera, string bass; Josh Collazo, drums; Carl Sonny Leyland on a piano-shaped object — and guests Jonathan Doyle, clarinet and tenor saxophone; Dawn Lambeth, vocals.
Dave asks the musical (and non-musical) question, HOW COULD YOU?:
It’s true: THE MUSIC GOES ‘ROUND AND ‘ROUND:
Sonny celebrates a Chicago shero, MY GAL SAL:
Dawn explores the night skies, with WHAT A LITTLE MOONLIGHT CAN DO:
Amanda is indecisive at a crucial juncture in her life: MANDY, MAKE UP YOUR MIND:
A banquet of joyous sounds. Dave and the Hot House Gang will also be appearing at the 2023 Redwood Coast Music Festival . . . a head-spinning all-you-can-experience weekend.
“She plays a mean castanet.” What better compliment could one receive?
Delicious hot music from the recent past. Come closer, please.
Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang perform this venerable song, one many of you know because of Bix and Goldkette — verse and chorus, and lyrics — for our delight at the Redwood Coast Music Festival on May 12, 2019. The gifted co-conspirators alongside Dave are Carl Sonny Leyland, piano; Josh Collazo, drums; Wally Hersom, string bass; Nate Ketner, clarinet; Marc Caparone, cornet.
There was no Redwood Coast Music Festival in May 2020 because of certain cosmic problems you might have been aware of. However, brothers and sisters, one is planned for September 30 – October 3, 2021. We live in hope, as my mother used to say.
Because the microphone setup doesn’t always favor rapid-fire lyrics, especially from someone so animated as Dave, I reprint the words (by Henry Creamer: music by none other than Harry Warren) so you can sing along:
VERSE: Say, look up the street, / Look up the street right now! / Hey, look at her feet, / Isn’t she neat, and how! / Oh, ain’t she a darlin’, / Oh, isn’t she sweet, / That baby you’re wild to meet! / Here comes Miss Clementine, / That baby from New Orleans, / She’s only seventeen, / But what a queen, oh my! /
CHORUS: She has those flashing eyes, / The kind that can hypnotize, / And when she rolls ’em, pal, / Just kiss your gal goodbye! / And oh, oh, oh, when she starts dancing, / She plays a mean castanet, / You won’t forget, I mean, / Down in that Creole town / Are wonderful gals around, / But none like Clementine from New Orleans! / Now, you talk about Tabasco mamas, / Lulu Belles and other charmers, / She’s the baby that made the farmers / Raise a lot of cane! / She vamped a guy named Old Bill Bailey, / In the dark she kissed him gaily, / Then he threw down his ukulele / And he prayed for rain! / Look out for Clementine, / That baby from New Orleans. / She’s only seventeen, / But what a queen, oh my! / She has two yearning lips, / But her kisses are burning pips. / They make the fellows shout, / Lay right down and die die die! / Her dancing movements / Have improvements, / She shakes a mean tambourine / Out where the grass is green. / I’ve seen asbestos dames / Who set the whole town in flames, / But none like Clementine from New Orleans!
AND “She shakes a mean tambourine”!
So, make a space on your 2021 calendar for the RCMF. Bring your partner and the family. But perhaps leave the castanets and tambourine at home.
And, to pass the time, Dave Stuckey has been doing a series of virtual Facebook broadcasts of songs — he sings, he plays. Relaxing, refreshing, and my spiritual gas tank gets filled:
Dave Stuckey knows how — how to put together a hot congenial swinging band, how to sing in a convincing heartfelt Thirties style that engages an audience, how to find rare material . . . how to put on a show that doesn’t require his dad’s barn (although he will work in barns for the right offer). He is comic without being jokey, and his friendly approach to the band and to us is heartfelt, not a series of ad-libs. He’s having fun, and we feel it also.
He showed off all these talents with the Hot House Gang at this year’s Redwood Coast Music Festival — the Gang being Josh Collazo, drums; Wally Hersom, string bass; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano; Nate Ketner, reeds; Marc Caparone, cornet; Dawn Lambeth, vocal. Here are seven tunes — count ’em, seven! — from the Gang’s first set.
Here’s melodious Dawn to sing a rare tune I associate with Henry “Red” Allen, which is always an asset, I’LL SING YOU A THOUSAND LOVE SONGS:
In the wrong hands, EXACTLY LIKE YOU can sound overfamiliar and thus dull, but not in these hands — those of Dawn and the Gang, helped immensely by Father Leyland’s righteous groove:
I confess that I’ve heard many versions of WHAT A LITTLE MOONLIGHT CAN DO that made me mutter to myself, “Not much,” but this performance gets at the heart of the ebullience of the Billie Holiday records of the Thirties, thanks to glorious playing by the band as well as Dawn’s choice to sing the song rather than the record. Those riffs, those riffs!
Hoagy Carmichael’s love song to New Orleans, of the same name, wistfully sung by Dave and eloquently by Marc:
Father Leyland’s rocking bouquet for IDA, which is so much music packed into three minutes:
The new dance they’re doing uptown, TRUCKIN’:
and, to close the set, the joyous affirmation of collective swing, a song that brings together Ivie Anderson and the Marx Brothers as well as the Hot House Gang. Who would complain?
If you learn that Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gangare coming to your city, toss the dogs some dry food, break into the birthday fund, give up those plans to make the kitchen floor shine, and go. Joy like this is rare and not to be disregarded.
Thanks to Mark and Valerie Jansen of the Redwood Coast Music Festival for their generous embrace of soulful music. Be there May 7-10, 2020 . . . !
I find “novelties” charming: their goofy allure harks back to my childhood. This one has stuck since I saw Danny Kaye perform it in THE FIVE PENNIES.
We can (in the best Amazon way) peek inside:
In 1935, it was a phenomenal hit for this band, and one of them, probably Mike Reilly, had an ancient brass instrument, very complicated, that he used in the nightclub presentation:
But this post isn’t a nostalgic ramble down “Swing Street” (New York’s Fifty-Second Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenues, its raucous charm obliterated for decades) — it’s about living hot music, with a touch of comedy, performed right now, at the Fresno “Sounds of Mardi Gras,” by a lively hot band. They’re Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang, for this occasion, Dave on guitar, vocal, and amusement; Marc Caparone, cornet, verbal japes; Nate Ketner, reeds; David Aus, piano; Sam Rocha, string bass; Gareth Price, drums, with guest star Riley Baker, trombone — he only gets a few bars on this number, but he makes the most of them.
If you don’t understand the circular course that hot music takes, watch the video again. Share with your friends who need to be enlightened. It will turn up on the final exam in your Doctorate in Hot. Until then . . .
Seat belts fastened, seat backs upright, tray tables in the upright position?
As the ebullient guitarist / singer / bandleader Dave Stuckey says, “Come on, cats!”
Here are three Stuckey-beauties from the Fresno “Sounds of Mardi Gras,” last month, in which our heroes teach the Gentle Art of Swing and the Arcane Secrets of Riffing. (See: “Arrangement, head” in the index.)
The rollicking heroes are Dave Stuckey, guitar, vocal, imagination; Marc Caparone, cornet; Nate Ketner, reeds, David Aus, piano; Sam Rocha, string bass; Gareth Price, drums. Special plaudits go to Youngbloods Rocha and Price, who make seismic upheaval fun.
The Twenties marked an explosion of female freedom that would blossom in our time, with political empowerment and social power running parallel: the right to vote and the right to choose what you would wear. I am sure that somewhere in that decade a singer was whimpering through SHE’S ONLY A BIRD IN A GILDED CAGE, and NOBODY’S SWEETHEART appears to — note I write “appears” — say that a young woman could lose her virtue in the big city, with a wink at the listener as if to say that scandal is more fun than conformity. But the songs below, which resurface as hot jazz classics in their own decade, say that the rewards of freedom and pleasure and hugely gratifying. (I amused myself a few years ago here by writing about several of those songs — with a guest appearance by Thomas Hardy.)
By coincidence, the songs I am considering were given splendid performances by Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang at the 2019 “Sounds of Mardi Gras” in Fresno, California — on February 9. The HHG was Dave, guitar and vocal; Gareth Price, drums; Sam Rocha, string bass; David Aus (subbing for Carl Sonny Leyland), piano; Nate Ketner, reeds; Marc Caparone, cornet — on LIZZIE, the delightful trombonist Riley Baker joins in the fun.
Let’s begin with Bessie, from 1929 — not Smith, but a young woman with no last name who is completely enjoying herself. I’ve always wondered if Bessie’s yelling with delight celebrates the female orgasm. And although the lyrics suggest a faux-pity about Bessie, who “couldn’t help it,” as if she could be an entry in Krafft-Ebing, we are meant to cheer her on:
Then there’s Lizzie, who is dancing all over town with such wild abandon that she shakes the pots and pans in what we must assume is a more sedate lady’s kitchen. Ah, flaming youth! (Or, as Dave exhorts the band, “Come on, cats!”). I also note the repeated reference to what I know as “Oh, they don’t wear pants / in the southern part of France,” which suggests that Lizzie’s dance is close to the hootchy-kootchy:
These songs have wonderful jazz pedigrees, should you want to listen to other versions: Louis and Hoagy and Marty Grosz for BESSIE; “Irving Mills” and then Eddie Condon for LIZZIE.
Hot jazz, social emancipation, wild dancing, orgasms. Fine with me. And I write with untrammeled pride that I think this is the only jazz blog where Krafft-Ebing and Louis have equal time.
Yesterday’s post of PARDON MY SOUTHERN ACCENT by Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang received a great deal of attention and praise . . . so here is a second helping. But I confess that I am posting more music by this band for an even simpler reason: they make me feel jubilant, and I can’t dismiss that reaction.
Here are three more rocking performances by Dave and the Hot House Gang from February 8-9th at the “Sounds of Mardi Gras” in Fresno, California. The swing luminaries on the stand in addition to Dave, guitar and vocal, are Gareth Price, drums; Sam Rocha, piano; David Aus, piano [taking the place of Carl Sonny Leyland for this gig]; Nate Ketner, reeds; Marc Caparone, cornet; guest star Riley Baker, trombone.
The first, ‘T’AIN’T NO USE, comes from the 1936 book of Stuff Smith and his Onyx Club Boys:
Another reproachful meditation on romance that hasn’t quite reached the target, WHY DON’T YOU PRACTICE WHAT YOU PREACH? — renowned because of Henry “Red” Allen and the Boswell Sisters. Here it has a little glee-club flair, which works so well:
A splendid swing classic by Edgar Sampson, BLUE LOU:
Don’t they just rock the building? I’ve known almost all of the Gang — on disc and in person — through my California Period — but I would especially call out for praise and attention a few Youngbloods, Messrs. Price, Baker, and Rocha. How very inspiring.
You’ve heard of people dowsing for water — using a forked stick or a pendulum to discern where there’s water under the surface of apparently barren land. I think of Dave Stuckey as the modern swing equivalent. His skill is just as rewarding, for he finds the groove where other musicians or bands might not. Audiences, dancers, and players hear it and respond beautifully. I’d heard Dave and the Hot House Gang only once before in person, at a Saturday-night dance at the 2016 San Diego Jazz Fest (results here) and on the group’s debut CD (read my review here) but these pleasurable interludes made me incredibly eager to hear Dave and Co. at the 2019 “Sounds of Mardi Gras” in Fresno, California — a weekend I’ve just come back from. More about Fresno below.
Here’s one sweet convincing sample. Dave has a deep affinity for the music Henry “Red” Allen recorded in the Thirties, and PARDON MY SOUTHERN ACCENT by Matty Malneck and Johnny Mercer is one of those memorable tunes. Dave is joined by Marc Caparone, cornet; Nate Ketner, reeds; David Aus (a newcomer, subbing this once for Carl Sonny Leyland) piano; Sam Rocha, string bass; Gareth Price, drums, and guest Riley Baker, trombone.
I video-ed everything Dave and the Gang created, and it was rather like a wonderfully unusual yet compelling blend of Fats, Wingy, Red Allen, Tempo King, Bob Howard, Putney Dandridge, Joe and Marty Marsala, Stuff Smith, Eddie Condon, and Django — with great riffing both afternoon and evening. They can play ballads as well as stomps, and the groove was something to behold: you could ask the dancers.
Mercer came by his Southern accent authentically, being a Savannah native.
A few words about Fresno. It was my first visit to that jazz festival and I’ll be back next year — not only because of the fine music and the convenience (everything was under one comfortable roof) but the pervasive geniality: much friendliness from everyone, from the waitstaff to the musicians and volunteers. Thanks to Linda Shipp, Alberto, and friends for making everyone so comfortable. And you can bet there will be more video evidence from the Hot House Gang and Bob Schulz and his Frisco Jazz Band (featuring Ray Skjelbred and Kim Cusack).
Although February is brief on the calendar, it can be a long month for those of us, in New York and elsewhere, waiting for a thaw. I have a cure I’ll be trying out in 2019 — the Fresno Sounds of Mardi Gras— which takes place from February 7-10 in the DoubleTree by Hilton in Fresno, California. Rumors that I have fallen in with some strange linguistic cult (Pismo, CA, in October 2018, and now another place ending in a vowel) just aren’t true, and the people spreading such gossip should stop. No, the reasons I’ll be there are musical (and the opportunity to meet some California hot-jazz pals). Here’s a sample, in a video by Bill Schneider from 2018:
Bob told me that the band he’s bringing in 2019 has got the same personnel: himself, Doug Finke, Kim Cusack, Ray Skjelbred, Scott Anthony, Jim Maihack, and Ray Templin.
and there’s Grand Dominion, featuring Clint Baker, Gerry Green, Jeff Hamilton, and other spreaders of the gospel (video by Franklin Clay):
and Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang. Since they are new to Fresno, I can’t draw on the Mardi Gras video trove but bring forward this delightfully raucous one, shot at the Saturday-night swing dance in 2016 at the San Diego Jazz Fest, featuring Dan Barrett, Nate Ketner, Corey Gemme, and other rascals:
Dave tells me that the Fresno Hot House Gang will have Marc Caparone, who’s also appearing with High Sierra on one of that venerable band’s last gigs, Nate Ketner, Sam Rocha, and David Aus on piano.
Here is the Facebook page for the 2019 blast. And hereis the complete band listing (I believe) for 2019 . . . click http://www.fresnodixie.com/badges-online for details about badges, pins, sponsorships, and other nifty artifacts.
I’ll be leaving my snow shovel behind for a weekend in early February, and I won’t miss it. Even if there’s no snow where you are, the hot music is better than any pharmaceutical I know. See you there.
Dawn Lambeth sings; this band rocks. That’s all you need to know. Dave Stuckey, leader, guitar; Dan Barrett, Corey Gemme, brass (swapping cornet and trombone at will); Nate Ketner, reeds; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano; Katie Cavera, string bass; Gareth Price, drums. Recorded at the Saturday-night dance party at the San Diego Jazz Fest, November 26, 2016.
Well, maybe a little explanation would do no harm. Dave’s band is a wonderful combination of Fats Waller and his Rhythm (with sly twists) and any number of fabled Fifty-Second Street small groups. But not only do they swing, but Dave writes and sings hilariously inventive originals. I’d known of Dave and the Hot House Gang because of their first CD, which I applauded here.
When I met him at San Diego, I immediately perceived him to be genuine, not someone wearing a mask for audiences. Although he and his band had only one set on Saturday night, and it was to be a battle of the bands for dancers (not conducive to my video questing) I showed up anyway, and was rewarded with this riotous performance (audibly and visually) of SHIM-ME-SHA-WABBLE. . . and then this collection of Dave’s originals and jazz classics.
I met Dawn in the last century, first through the medium of her CDs, and then in person, on both coasts. I was impressed right away by her swing, the gentle timbres of her voice, the subtle way she glides in and out of notes and phrases, her approach always natural. But usually I heard her in quiet, intimate settings (duos and trios) so when she stood in front of a larger band — such as Clint Baker’s — it was a pleasant shock. And friends have told me that she is a superb big-band singer, utterly at home in front of four brass, three reeds, and a rhythm section. I have yet to see this for myself, but look forward to it. I got a taste of what it might be like when Dawn sang so beautifully with the Hot House Gang.
And these three videos — through no conscious design of mine — resemble Reginald Marsh paintings in motion, no small benefit.
The Forties hit for Ella Mae Morse — cowboy plus Harlem hip — COW COW BOOGIE:
Two for Billie, inspired by but not imitating her. WHAT A LITTLE MOONLIGHT CAN DO:
And a pensive THESE FOOLISH THINGS, at a tempo to suit the dancers:
Hail, Dawn! Hail, Dave! Hail, dancers! Thank you, San Diego Jazz Fest, for making this magic happen.
Without trying to copy a note or a cadence, Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang can take me back into the imagined past. It’s not adoration that becomes cloning: at times he and the band resemble Fats Waller and his Rhythm or a Red McKenzie group, but they all sound like themselves: playful, joyously tumbling around — musically, that is. And Dave’s originals have a friendly kinship with the best music of the middle Thirties, so I could imagine some of them having been issued, in an alternate jazz universe, on Vocalion, Decca, Bluebird, and Brunswick. But they’re here — glowing right in front of us — in this case at the Saturday-night dance party at the San Diego Jazz Fest on November 26, 2016. I’d posted the first tune I’d heard, a rollicking SHIM-ME-SHA-WABBLE, here — and I urge you to see it or see it again, because it is a Hoot and a Holler with serious Commodore roots for certain.
But after that, I moved up to a more stable position (on one side, of course, but the side where I could in effect look over Carl’s shoulder, always a nice spot) and I stayed there. Dave offered three of his originals, all gratifying. And the Hot House Gang certainly lived up to its name: Dan Barrett, Corey Gemme, brass; Nate Ketner, reeds; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano; Dave, guitar, vocal; Katie Cavera, string bass; Gareth Price, drums.
MAYBE IT’S THE BLUES:
Dave’s Egyptian serenade, THE POTENTATE OF HARLEM:
PARDON MY FRENCH (an expression that my mother used to use before saying something naughty):
Those are really good tunes, aren’t they? They are complete expressions, words and music — not just scraps pasted together with Gorilla Glue and hope.
Here’s a homage to Wingy Manone in his Capitol Period, BESAME MUCHO:
and the jazz classic I associate with Louis and Lillie Delk Christian, TOO BUSY:
Never too busy to swing! And the banquet’s not over: three delicious vocals from this set by Dawn Lambeth, bluesy, hot, and tender, will follow shortly.
Incidentally, it is possible that Dave and the Gang possess too much talent, but until the authorities find out, we’ll enjoy the superfluity.
Last year, I’d had the pleasure of hearing the debut CD of Dave Stuckey and The Hot House Gang— expertly jubilant — but the San Diego Jazz Fest this November afforded me my first chance to meet Dave (a warm, funny, swinging fellow — truly a solid sender) and to hear The Gang in person . . . thrills indeed. For this Saturday-night dance party, the Hot House Gang was Dave Stuckey, guitar, vocals, leader, moral guidance; Dan Barrett, cornet / trombone; Corey Gemme, trombone / trumpet; Nate Ketner, reeds; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano, vocals; Katie Cavera, string bass; Gareth Price, drums.
A word about the video that follows. I had had some anxiety about trying to video this most adorable band, not because of them, but because of the situation: a dance party in a large room. I love the dancers I know as people, but en masse they are not conducive to my videoing, because they are supposed to be there, in motion, as opposed to a rather slow-moving person with a camera and a tripod who wants to stand stock-still in the midst of things. But I was drawn by the music (Dave always swings!) and by the challenge . . . so I approached timidly from the back of the room and started shooting in the spirit of “What the hell!”
When the band started to play, it sounded so very good that I thought, “If this is visually terrible, at least the sound will be preserved.” As it is. The dark shapes passing in front of my lens are dancers, and my camera takes a second to readjust, but just keep listening and watching.
Thus, I present to you a rocking version of the 1917 SHIM-ME-SHA-WABBLE:
More orthodox videos will follow, some with guest vocalist Dawn Lambeth, a special pleasure. And for my own sardonic pleasure, I will see how long it takes one of the armchair experts out there to “dislike” this video on YouTube. Everyone’s a critic. But not you!
Singing looks as if it should be effortless. Learn the words or keep them visible, remember the melody, get some good accompaniment, open your mouth and let the swing come out. No valves to oil, no reeds to pamper, no dishes to wash. We all have voices and they sound good inside our head. Jazz singing — no worries. We’ve all heard Louis and Billie, maybe even sung along with them in the car.
Dream on, I say. Singing is the most treacherous act, requiring great courage and skill. There is an art to staying on pitch, having the proper intonation, remembering the lyrics, not getting lost.
Then there are the mysteries arts of appearing natural, having a pleasing voice (whether it is beautiful or not), understanding the song so that one can deliver its message without copying the famous recorded performance. Telling a story. Telling several stories.
Dawn Lambeth isn’t simply someone who sings. Dawn is a singer, and there is a great difference.
I first heard her on a CD, her debut as a leader, a dozen years ago, and I was enchanted by her lovely dark voice, her graceful swing, her great variety of easy medium tempos, her gentle expression of the apt feeling for each song.
She also possesses great humility — something rare — which one sees in her choice to serve the song rather than making the song a blank canvas for her own ego. Dawn wants us to hear just how beautiful a song is — Hart’s wry rhymes, Rodgers’ soaring melody — rather than insisting that we admire her, her hair stylist, her attitude. She doesn’t belt; she doesn’t carry on or dramatize. Among other singers, she admires Lee Wiley, Mildred Bailey, Billie Holiday, Connee Boswell, but she makes sure that any performance is more than her download of an mp3 of the original Brunswick or Vocalion.
So one of the greatest pleasures of the recent San Diego Jazz Fest was a plenitude of performances by Dawn: she sang with her own trio (Ray Skjelbred and Marc Caparone, with a guest appearance by John Otto), with Ray’s Cubs (Ray, Marc, Jeff Hamilton, Katie Cavera, Clint Baker), with Conal Fowkes in a wonderful duo, and with Dave Stuckey’s Hot House Gang (among others, Dan Barrett, Corey Gemme, Nate Kettner, Katie Cavera) . . . abundance in abundance.
Here are three very subtle, very warm performances by Dawn, Ray, piano; Marc, cornet, on November 25, 2016.
I’VE GOT A FEELING I’M FALLING:
I’LL NEVER BE THE SAME:
S’POSIN’:
More to come, thank goodness. And thank Dawn for keeping swinging sweet melody so alive.
These fellows mean business: to swing and to lift our spirits. And unlike a good many bands who market themselves as “retro swing,” the Hot House Gang can really play. Experience, not imitation via the iPhone 92S.
Happiness is hearing new music that has an old-time feel with modern vivacity. May I present Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang?
Their new CD, HOW’M I DOIN’?!, is a delight.
Dave himself (guitar and vocals) has an infectious swing, and the musicians he’s gathered around him are some of the best in the West, or perhaps the known world. I was immediately reminded of Fats Waller and the ebullience he created on his Victor discs . . . but Dave has an advantage here. Where Fats often had to lampoon substandard material (I am thinking of ABERCROMBIE HAD A ZOMBIE, where the last word refers to a particularly potent drink, not the night creature), Dave writes many of his own songs, words and music, and they have a jaunty, side-of-the-mouth comic flair: I found myself listening several times to each track — for the band, for Dave’s singing, for the lyrics. In a different era, these would be hit singles — although they might be too hip for the room. And although Dave urges the band on a la Waller, he can also be tender — on a rhythmic performance of GHOST OF A CHANCE or a romping I NEVER KNEW.
I knew this was a fine band and a fine CD about ninety seconds into the first track because I was smiling and bobbing my head — sure signs of swing pleasure. Dave’s ebullient singing caught me instantaneously, and I thought, “This is a song that would have fit right in on a 1936 Bluebird, although the lyrics are as hip as Mercer and the band has more room to rock.”
About those originals — they are new but seem immediately familiar (and the CD includes a lyric sheet for those readers on long car trips) — and each one rocks in its own fashion. I worry about CDs that are entirely composed of the leader’s originals, but Dave is a triple threat: singer, rocking guitarist, and songwriter. Dave also has done the clever trick so beloved of Thirties songwriters: to base the conceit of his lyrics on a familiar phrase: LET’S GET HOT AND GO, STOP ME IF YOU’VE HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE, WHAT WILL IT TAKE?, MAYBE IT’S THE BLUES, and two oddities, SISTER KATE (The Potentate of Harlem) and OPTIMISTICIZE.
And there is a pleasing sheaf of jazz classics that will never grow old: I NEVER KNEW, LOVE IS JUST AROUND THE CORNER, SHIM-ME-SHA-WABBLE, I DON’T STAND A GHOST OF A CHANCE WITH YOU, ‘T’AIN’T NO USE.
Dave has two overlapping bands, each one filled with stars who can create mellow sermons — as soloists or as an ensemble playing Dan Barrett’s charts, which grace seven songs): Corey Gemme, cornet, trombone, clarinet; Dan Barrett, trombone, trumpet; Nate Ketner, alto, clarinet; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano; Wally Hersom, string bass; Josh Collazo, drums — or Corey; Josh “Mooch” Petrojvic, piano; Larry Wright, alto, soprano, clarinet; Wally, Josh.
I confess to a surge of pleasure that the CDBaby page devoted to this CD says you will like it if you like Clarence Williams, Fats Waller, and Wingy Manone. Someone’s got the best intentions, and someone’s been listening closely: mid-Thirties joy without any museum dustiness. And that page offers a chance to buy the disc (how twentieth-century of us!) or to download the music.
Just to whet your appetite for the CD — or to pass the time until it arrives — here are a few videos of the band in their natural habitat:
TOO BUSY, from December 2014, with Carl Sonny Leyland, Corey Gemme, Rob Hardt, Jeff Hamilton and Marquis Howell:
SHIM-ME-SHA-WABBLE, from October 2015, shot by JediJen7:
and BLUE LOU from the same evening:
Here’s Dave’sFacebook page, for those people fortunate enough to live in Southern California, where the band currently romps; you can also see and hear more and even find out how to purchase the CD.
The CD asks the question — even though the song is not one of the twelve titles — HOW’M I DOIN’?! I can answer in the enthusiastic affirmative for Dave and his band. Long may they swing and cheer us.
JAZZ LIVES 