You couldn’t ask for a more exciting start for an album than the full-of-fun, highly-spirited “Baronne.” The Mark Mullins original gets the trombone-filled party jumping.
The tune, executed to funky perfection, is so invigorating it makes one wish that they had been in the audience to see the reaction of the uninitiated at New York’s Tribeca Rock Club. This isn’t your ordinary band or everyday musical experience. The trombone, often considered the Rodney Dangerfield of musical instruments (no respect), rules here handled by leader Mullins, Craig Klein, Steve Suter and Brian O’Neil (bass ’bone).
The brass is reinforced by sousaphone ace Matt Perrine with Bert Cotton on guitar and Chad Gilmore on drums with special guests the heralded James Brown trombonist Fred Wesley and drummer Stanton Moore. Self-penned numbers are smartly interspersed with reinvented versions of classics like Gregg Allman’s “Whipping Post” and Jimi Hendrix’s “Crosstown Traffic” offering a program that benefits from the familiar matched with the new.
Funk is definitely in the house and dished out by a band that is at once loose in attitude and tight on technique. Foremost, these guys are all accomplished musicians. So whether a tune gets down or takes off to the edges, their talents as soloists and within group efforts shine. The trombonists blow as one, tonally and rhythmically on another Mullins gift, “It Don’t Mean Nothin’” and riff in sync on the drama-packed “Crosstown Traffic” with Cotton burnin’ up the guitar. A sterling rhythm section drives the already potent ’bones with Perrine’s sousaphone getting an opportunity out front on the more relaxed, smoother grooved “Chemical Resistance.”
Wesley’s tasty contributions to Mullins’ “Less is Moore” with drum wizard Moore onboard demonstrate why the man is legendary—he’s just so damn agile. What clearly comes across here is that the band and audience are having some fun and as listeners we are too.
There are laugh out loud moments throughout including during Mullins’ plugged-in, wah-wah-upped solo number, the aptly named “It’s Electric.” Dirty as it is, Bonerama proves it is one clean machine.
