We walked into the Tralf on Main Street in Buffalo as the South Catherine Street Jug Band was playing through their set. The band was uninspiring and full of many jam-band clichés. They seemed like a fusion of too many styles (acoustic, bluegrass, southern) that did not jell too cohesively. The percussionist did impress me with his work on the drums and during songs where he played a washboard. My anticipation for the headliners only grew when I saw Hope Clayborne (Deep Banana Blackout’s saxaphone and vocalist) walk by me. She appeared to be checking out the scene before her band was to take the stage.
After a modest wait between sets, the headliners took the stage. Their first song fed off the crowd’s excitement. A nice melody by the horn section (Clayborne on alto sax, Rob Somerville on soprano sax, and Bryan Smith on trombone) sprang percussionist Johnny Durkin on an extended Calypso jam. Throughout the next several songs Hope began to reign supreme on vocals. Her deep voice belted out some soul-laced lyrics. When not singing or playing, she would simply dance along to the groove. It was her energy that was the most notable. Her boogying led guitarist Fuzz to counter with some wild improvisation of his own. During the aptly titled song Fuzzy Logic, a funky horn charge led to Fuzz reigning thunder from his guitar. Hope danced and keyboardist Cyrus Madan pounded notes out of his organ, while Fuzz rocked the house. His riffs had the dominant feel of Jimmy Hendrix to them. Something wild was on the horizon whenever Fuzz cocked his head back, raised the neck, and blasted some deafening chords. The one thing most apparent about this performance was the musical depth Deep Banana Blackout possessed. Aside from the notable contributions of Clayborne and Fuzz, every player was able to chime in with their own contributions. In essence, the show took up the feel of a musical volleyball match. Each player responded accordingly, when their turn arrived. Durkin could switch from steady timbale taps to rapid fire slapping of the congas in a moments notice. Madan was rock solid as well. He and bassist Benj LeFevre were especially in sync. Together they held the underlying funk rhythm that gave Deep Banana Blackout their distinct sound and led the other musicians to experiment. Led by Rob Somerville, the horns section created melodies ranging from bee-bop jazz, big band, and swing.
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