Upbeat Gents swing
Berkshire Eagle, 5/5/11
By Jeremy D. Goodwin
GREAT BARRINGTON—A show by The Two Man Gentlemen Band is great fun. With vintage sounds to match their bow ties and sharp summer suits, tenor guitarist Andy Beane and acoustic bassist Fuller Condon did nothing if not make people smile last weekend with a sweaty, two-set performance at the newly relocated Gypsy Joynt.
Their signature offering—an upbeat blend of quick banter, anachronistic amiability and original compositions in the style of early hot jazz and western swing—was delivered early and often, without a whole lot of variance in-between. It made for a bit of a monochromatic showing, but a heavy dose of this stuff in close quarters will generally see you through with few complaints.
Beane and Condon (the latter introduced several times by his sometime stage name The Councilman) have honed a tight interplay, whether in the form of Condon's droll, straight-man foil to Beane's mustachioed bon vivant, or the two trading fours between a slap-happy bass solo and taut chords chopped off from way up the fretboard of the tenor guitar. Bean was genuinely funny when he quipped that "many people dream of CD ownership these days" or insisted he "thought we had a Chinatown" when he (allegedly) bought a house in Great Barrington.
GREAT BARRINGTON—A show by The Two Man Gentlemen Band is great fun. With vintage sounds to match their bow ties and sharp summer suits, tenor guitarist Andy Beane and acoustic bassist Fuller Condon did nothing if not make people smile last weekend with a sweaty, two-set performance at the newly relocated Gypsy Joynt.
Their signature offering—an upbeat blend of quick banter, anachronistic amiability and original compositions in the style of early hot jazz and western swing—was delivered early and often, without a whole lot of variance in-between. It made for a bit of a monochromatic showing, but a heavy dose of this stuff in close quarters will generally see you through with few complaints.
Beane and Condon (the latter introduced several times by his sometime stage name The Councilman) have honed a tight interplay, whether in the form of Condon's droll, straight-man foil to Beane's mustachioed bon vivant, or the two trading fours between a slap-happy bass solo and taut chords chopped off from way up the fretboard of the tenor guitar. Bean was genuinely funny when he quipped that "many people dream of CD ownership these days" or insisted he "thought we had a Chinatown" when he (allegedly) bought a house in Great Barrington.
But the charm of the music was more important, whether in the bouncy rhythms and wistful melody of "Wine, Oh Wine!" or the similarly grooving singalong "Chocolate Milk." It's easy to assume the two are working their way through forgotten chestnuts of a earlier era, what with endorsements of "reefer" and songs about William Howard Taft and feasting on rabbit—a harder-edged history of Roaring 20's swing in which plans to pop amphetamines and drink chocolate milk all night are eagerly detailed. But then you notice a reference to Ritalin, and begin to realize these are all original tunes. Yet somehow, the business doesn't come off as affected; it's some sort of earnest/hipster hybrid that is thoroughly winning within its rather tightly defined ambitions.
This type of music really benefits from the added musical voices (a reality acknowledged whenever Beane broke into a vocalized, mock-trumpet solo), and though the duo format is key to this group's particular charisma, it offers limitations as well. The emotional range was likewise limited, with little to temper the sweet candy of the hey-that's-funny party music. "Franklin Pierce" (yes, a second song about an old timey President) was filled with dire depictions ("When your money's gone and you're all alone and your whole family's dead…'aint that every good man's fear?") offset by the song's jokey introduction as being a tale of "our drunkest President."
So it wasn't operatic in scope. But it was a dose of light entertainment that comes in a rare vintage. And it was enormously encouraging to enjoy such an expertly rendered period piece of new jack swing, right in the heart of downtown amid the hoe-down spirit of the Joynt. Perhaps we don't even need a Chinatown after all.
This type of music really benefits from the added musical voices (a reality acknowledged whenever Beane broke into a vocalized, mock-trumpet solo), and though the duo format is key to this group's particular charisma, it offers limitations as well. The emotional range was likewise limited, with little to temper the sweet candy of the hey-that's-funny party music. "Franklin Pierce" (yes, a second song about an old timey President) was filled with dire depictions ("When your money's gone and you're all alone and your whole family's dead…'aint that every good man's fear?") offset by the song's jokey introduction as being a tale of "our drunkest President."
So it wasn't operatic in scope. But it was a dose of light entertainment that comes in a rare vintage. And it was enormously encouraging to enjoy such an expertly rendered period piece of new jack swing, right in the heart of downtown amid the hoe-down spirit of the Joynt. Perhaps we don't even need a Chinatown after all.
