I know I am not alone in loving the music for dancing, despite not having a dancing bone in my body, the sedentary shake a leg being my current move of choice, especially in the car. As such my shelves heave unfeasibly with instrumental rhythmic mayhem, and Dancing Boots is a further welcome addition.
To say Brown Boots Boogie Band are new to me would be an understatement, never having heard previous hide nor hair of them, let alone this expanded dance floor variant. However, I gather that, as a duo, fiddler, Martin Clarke, and box player, Will Allen, have individual form, as well as pairing up to perform dance tunes in a concert setting, starting a year or so ahead the great cough. Allen has a couple of albums under his belt, with Rowan Piggott, as well as performing with Club Débris, and Clarke is a member of several other ceilidh bands, as well as being an established caller. This is their third Brown Boots release.
Possibly mindful of cautions around the merits of instrumental folk music at seated venues, and the requests of some of their audience, a logical next step has always been to expand the band and get rid of the chairs. So, welcome to Will Chamberlain, on keys, and to the lively drums of Paul Quarry, the birth of the BB Boogie Band and exhortations for couples in longwise formation to form four sets, men, or not, standing with left shoulder to the top of the room, women, or not, facing them on opposite sides.
A swift glance at the dance card soon suggests this quartet are no sticklers around staying within any one tradition. As the sleeve notes say, inspirations are drawn wide: from “Jimmy Shand to Old Swan Band, Wolfstone to Banter and (gulp) New Orleans jazz to ABBA”. Do I detect any alarm as that list expands? Hold my hand…….
It is with a round of big band style tub thumping the album starts, ahead of listing into a reasonably reassuringly straight romp through ‘Childgrove’, with Clarke and Allen keeping up well with Quarry, it feeling that way around. Piano provides the role of bass, and is as solidly percussive as the drums. The segue, from the Playford staple to Irish jig, ‘Jer the Rigger’, is handled well, and again as they slip back. The two polkas make a competent, confident start.
Finding a taste of N’Awlins about ‘Lemmie Brazil’s No. 1’, that element is syncopated hard into the paired ‘Old Man Dance’, the piano accentuating the speakeasy cadences found within. Allen’s fiddle sounds sometimes like trumpet, later still adding fumes of gypsy jazz, as he morphs into being a violinist. Where the yowling cat amongst the bins comes in, I’m uncertain, but the clatter breaks the ice sufficiently for a return to Blighty. ‘J.B.Milne/Old Grey Cat’ come in on a swift and strict tempo, redolent of 1950’s London Palais, captured on newsreel, if then stretching out a little for the older time(y) of the second tune.
The two main players then get a chance to strut their own stuff, for a pair of 48 bar jigs, Onions, by Clarke, and the Allen-penned ‘The Antiboscis’. (And, yes, that bar count is lifted from the informative and entertaining CD insert; I haven’t been counting.) Both are tunes that show a good versing in the idiom, with road, or floor-testing having proven their worth. With Chamberlain’s piano leading out the band’s signature waltz, ‘The Brown Boot’ offers some respite to those intent on remaining upright. A duo version on an earlier release shows the benefit of the additional musicians, and it is bonny tune. Allen and Clarke take turns to meander about the scaffolding erected by the rest of the band, and it could be my favourite.
‘La Danse De Chez Nous’ carries a touch of Gallic in more than just name, but is another of Clarke’s compositions, another tune that has had work, as the two became four. His fiddle escapes once more into Hot Club smokiness, before melodeon and piano bring such frivolity back into tight formation. The link between Morris dancing and Brass Bands is next allowed full rein for ‘Woodland Revels’, with a military beat, before becoming the silent movie of, is it name or instruction, ‘Pat The Budgie’. Chamberlain is piling on the full Chas’n’Dave for this one, and it is a corker, ending then on a riot of Keystone Cops percussion, that splits any willow into a maritime hornpipe conclusion.
Keeping the interest up, ‘The Perfect Cure’ starts on a drumbeat, the sort Max Wall might employ, so as to aid his unique approach to walking. This seemingly stemmed from a mistake made by Chamberlain, he not being allowed to discard the applicable rhythm; like Leveret, the band claim not to rehearse and thus deal with any set-back on the hoof. It becomes an attractive precision march that may or not translate well to a jig, my bet that they can make it so. As it segues, the Wolfstone connection outs itself, with a country band version of that band’s ‘Cleveland Park’, rendered near unrecognisable, if in a good way. Percussion remains to the forefront throughout, but the little tinkles of piano are the take home moment.
Seeing as, sort of, we had been in Scotland for part that last track, ‘Petronella’ then goes the full White Heather Club on us, at least as it starts. However, after even only a few bars there is a dark shift sideways, embracing, possibly, the Auld Alliance, with a moody ‘La Sansonette’, reeking of Gauloises. Thereafter this closing medley ricochets between the shores, gaining unlikely traction, and it is a clever, if confusing conclusion. A brief coda of live performance is the last music heard, but, in another awkward segue, let’s hope it won’t be the last from this engaging quartet.
Seuras Og
Artists’ website : www.brownbootsmusic.com
‘Onions’ and ‘The Antiboscis’ – live:
We all give our spare time to run folking.com. Our aim has always been to keep folking a free service for our visitors, artists, PR agencies and tour promoters. If you wish help out and donate something (running costs currently funded by Paul Miles), please click the PayPal link below to send us a small one off payment or a monthly contribution.
Thanks for stopping by. Please help us continue and support us by tipping/donating to folking.com via
You must be logged in to post a comment.