It don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing

I mentioned yesterday that I went out for jazz Thursday night with my landlord, just after I had the pleasure of chatting with Minderella. We went to see the Julie O’Hara quartet at Dizzy’s in Richmond, apparently one of their first Thursday night gigs.

I had a truly great time. It was billed as a night of Nat King Cole popular tunes, but ranged a little bit more broadly over the swing era - toe tappin’ fun numbers, but performed with a lot of flair and personality. It was exactly the sort of stuff I used to play during my year of community radio in Canberra, before I learned to listen to jazz after be-bop. Particularly infectious were “Hit that jive jack”, “Goody Goody” and “If it ain’t got that swing”. I got pretty tired, pretty early though (hot nights and sleeping has been an issue lately) and left around 10.15 when she was just launching into “As time goes by” towards the end of the second set.

Julie’s voice was simply lovely: strong, dusky without being too low, great range and an infectious sense of fun. She would also pinch her nose and cup her hand over the microphone while scatting occasionally, producing an uncannily convincing, and rather humorous, baffled trumpet imitation.

The most impressive thing was the way she and the ensemble could really swing. I wish I had noted the names of the other musicians, because they really were rather impressive. The Englishman on double-bass managed to produce a number of compelling solos which I could feel in my chair. The guy on old-style mellow electric guitar had some great moments, particularly on the blues numbers which I suspect may have been included for his benefit. The pianist I took a little longer to warm towards; at the risk of offering an opinion informed by neither musical training nor talent, I found his left hand a little muddy and slurred - but that was probably not his fault. It was discovered during set-up that the house piano had two broken strings (!) and he would be playing around them. I also think his mike wasn’t that well adjusted. His higher notes were certainly cut-glass lovely, just the way I like my jazz piano.

We arrived much earlier than needed for the eight-thirty show, at eight the limited tables were still only half-full. Number would have peaked in the forties around 9.30. Nothing like the packed venues I’ve struggled with in Sydney where arriving an hour in advance was the minimum needed to get a seat, let alone a table.

Dizzy’s is a great venue: it’s the original Victorian-era Richmond post office, with high ceilings of fabulous carpentry. There are some great little rooms or spaces off the main area with its small stage, and a cheerful beer garden out the back. It is virtually below the railway line, but miraculously unaffected by any noise. There’s no tap beer, but for a boutique bar the wines and bottled beers aren’t badly priced, and you certainly couldn’t complain about ticket prices. I’ve been to one ticketed show, and the Saturday afternoon open jam session twice (which is free and remarkably good). I’ll certainly be going a lot more in future.

Especially any time Julie O’Hara’s singing. She rocks.

(I may also have to go to a Wednesday night big band session. How they fit a twenty piece jazz orchestra on that little stage will be a sight to behold - and it’s only a $5 cover.)

In other news I am presently in Adelaide, but more about what I think of the City of Churches some other time.