The baron of MetalJazz leaves his castle for reconnaissance and announces his findings below.
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A 4-vet combo is squeezed into a corner of Desert Rose, a prolewise Hillhurst patio boite with jazz on Saturdays. Brick & Fyl have camped there half the night already; Brick says saxist Chuck Manning has been mock-battling bandmate Theo Saunders over the ridiculous tones Saunders selects for his "keytar" -- Manning says if he'd wanted Ella Fitzgerald, he would have just resurrected her, not programmed some weird neckstrap keyboard to imitate her scatwork. The instrument is actually amusing the way Saunders plays it -- shredding the ivories, tapping the neck buttons with two left fingers taped together because he broke them while chiseling an ice sculpture of Junior Mance. Now he sounds like an organ, now a piano, now a guitar, as Manning pretends to seethe between his own brilliantly focused tenor flights on Monk's "Ask Me Now" and a deep bluesy interpretation of "Sixteen Tons." Another day older and deeper in debt for sure, not that drummer Mark Stevens and bassist John Leftwich mind, because they are swinging their asses off. Afterward, Brick introduces me to a gentleman who knew Charlie Parker and Lester Young -- all three lived in the same Manhattan building! Amazing, doesn't look a day over 80. Not you, Brick.
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On entering the semi-venerable Dresden Room on Vermont Monday, I tread upon John Curry's blue suedes as he sings and plays acoustic guitar with his 3-piece, who are similarly squeezed into a corner. Well, what was the packed Dresden gonna do, dismantle the central keyboard island belonging to perennial cheesemeisters Marty & Elayne? Heaven forfend; there it stands in historic bulk, covered like a coffin with a black shroud. Tall, porkpie-hatted Curry emphasizes the country-rock pages of his four-decade catalog, backed by the effortlessly intuitive electric guitar and lap steel of Paul Lacques and the drumming of Lacques' I See Hawks in L.A. mate Victoria Jacobs, who cracks out irresistible beats on a lone snare. They sound a little like The Band, with Curry's high tenor bridging between Rick Danko and Richard Manuel. The songs are handsomely crafted, too -- wish I could have heard the sensitive lyrics clearer, though no strain was required to decipher Curry's interpolation of "Young Americans" into one tune. I'm privileged to join a table with loyal J.C. fans JoAnne, Kateri, Sharan, Fiona and Audrey (hi to Gloria next door); Curry undermines my kinghood by buying me drinks as he questionably chases tequila with IPA. We ponder the recently deceased Charlie Quintana, with whom Curry shared the stage in the final 1981 edition of the immortal Plugz; he says Charlie stroked the traps with such musicality that you could tell what songs he was playing even when he was warming up alone.
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Although the decor of the Five Star Bar downtown lacks the complete indifference to meet every criterion for divehood, the old-pine joint is plenty splintery, maybe too raw to match the sophistication of the heavy instrumental trio Zinngeschrei (pictured) on Wednesday. Together several years, progressive without being geeky, eclectic without being schizophrenic, the Z men have grown mighty tight and exciting. Just when you think they're headed toward the Animals As Leaders metal-intellect barn, they'll make you flash on Alice in Chains, or Dub Trio, or Peter Green in postblues tiger-crank mode. Guitarist Steve Boyce deals out riffs and variations with relentless intensity, while bassist Markus Erren Pardiñas, between trips to the microphone for cryptic pre-song German pronouncements, tilts on his soles and varies on-the-money rhythmic support with taps & pops on his 8-string bass. (Thanks, Bruce Duff, for counting the pegs; please commend me to your optometrist.) Drummer Sergio Gonzalez locks in with drive and smartly placed counteraccents, and all three just live in one another's hip pockets for the duration. Impressive! Where's that new record? At the bar, Ilka Erren Pardiñas of Fly PR shames me with her total historic recall (commend me to your neurologist), and Dave VH, who got me here in one piece, poses with Borivoj and Heather Krgin of Blabbermouth.net. In response to the dude who was using poetic hand gestures to illustrate the metallic angst of the previous band, Dawn Fades (also featuring Markus): Yes, this is my natural hair color.
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PHOTO BY FUZZY BORG.