Reviewed on Friday August 5
Due to their unique style of New Orleans-inspired jazz, being right near the entrance of The Gasoline Pony is an advantage for The Low Down Riders – the sustained harmonies that open their set send out cool waves of sound, drawing interest from passers-by, who wander in to the bar. With jazz’s mandatory red light illuminating the band, the oomph of the tuba chugs along under a smooth clarinet solo, and the steely twang of the tenor banjo plucks away.
The Low Down Rider’s music speaks for itself, which is good because the mic-less commentary of clarinettist Chris O’Dea is washed away by noise and bad acoustics – the crazy bends in the upper register of his instrument give him a voice where his own is lost. O’Dea’s vocal efforts are a musical contradiction – he can mimic the brittle jazz overtones of a scratchy 1920s recording, but he can also sound like a drunk guy slurring in a bar. Hey Chris, maybe you should get a hipster girl in to sing for you, someone with a Betty Boop kind of voice?
Trumpet solos from Rob Campbell are often overshadowed by O’Dea – newcomers to the genre are more likely to affiliate that brass baby with jazz than the clarinet, which often plays with more of a klezmer style.When given the opportunity to play, Phill Jenkins’ tuba solos sound pretty sluggish – a shame, given it could have been a chance for him to get a little fancy, away from the chomping chords.
It’s not until their second set that the atmosphere becomes a little more responsive. Guest singer Reuben Ryan wows the audience with his raspy stretches on ‘Mustang Sally’, and interesting percussive breaks of cowbells and washboards from percussionist Bonnie Stewart interject harmonised trumpet and clarinet solos. It’s quirky and different, Stewart really getting in to it, though the true potential of her skill is limited by the eight by ten foot stage.
The implication is that The Low Down Riders have a sound that is bigger than the venue will allow – this is party music, “take to the streets and shimmy” kind of stuff, but the exuberant pizzazz of New Orleans gumbo is lost, restricted by the small stage and venue.
