Joey DeFrancesco Trio at Yoshi's Oakland, California Jazz Club.
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| Joey DeFrancesco Photo courtesy: gordoconbarba.com |
Joey DeFrancesco's band was greeted with pouring rain when it floated into Oakland to appear at Yoshi's Jack London Square Jazz Club, June 4 - 5, 2011. The weather forecast threatened that as much as two inches of the wet stuff might be lapping at the heels before things cleared up. To make matters worse; it was windy and cold. These adverse conditions did not bother the organist in the slightest. He and his Hammond B-3 were red hot. Damn near burned the club down; the smoke was up to his ears.
Along for the jaunt to this virtual four-alarmer were, guitarist Rick Zunigar and drummer Ramon Banda. A sizable crowd turned out to see the organist and his trio, but the performance was not sold out; however, there weren't too many empty seats. I considered this a good sign; since it was a Sunday night.
They wasted no time on ignition; jumping right into a wicked swinger called "Blues in Three." DeFrancesco seemed oddly detached at first, nothing that was visible on his frame appeared to be alive or moving - hands; shoulders; head; nothing; but an incredible wave of energy and sound was coming out of that Hammond B-3 like a B-52 aircraft cleared for takeoff. It did not take long for drummer Ramon Banda to get into the act. He put his drum set through a thorough mugging and then turned things over to guitarist Rick Zunigar who kept DeFrancesco caged until he ran out of interesting things to do on the guitar's fret. Joey D then roared back in, took things up several decibels, dropping a few well placed quotes into his solo, one of which was "Pennies From Heaven." The room got excited! Now there was life! The sleeping giant had awakened. DeFrancesco's hands flew across the organ's keys, his body rocked from side-to-side, and he had a big, wide grin covering his face: The warm up was over. The fire was lit. The audience was put on notice: This dude was here to swing!
As a follow up, DeFrancesco pulled out another scorcher curiously named "V & G." He did not choose to disclose what V & G stood for, but when it ended and the smoke had cleared a bit, he initiated some banter with the crowd, letting on that he was really thrilled to be back at Yoshi's in Oakland, California, and that he considered it one of the best jazz clubs in the world. This unsolicited bit of information drove my heart rate racing in a northerly arc. I suddenly realized that not only was I diggin' the top jazz organist on the planet, but I was ensconced in "one of the best jazz clubs in the world." I mean, this is a guy that has places to go , lots of people to see, and mucho things to do. So I'm down for his word!
All of a sudden, life is good!
The mood was changed for the next two numbers, the first was a medium tempo piece with a distinct Latin feel, this set the audience up nicely for the Bob Haggard/Johnny Burke standard "What's New," during which DeFrancesco took the room down to the stillness of a church; Zunigar's guitar painted beautiful stained-glass colors, and Banda applied his brushes to the drums with the practiced care of a monk. The air went out of the room, and a twilight descended.
After the audience was done confessin', DeFrancesco commenced a wanton assault on his Hammond B-3. He launched into Clifton Davis' "Never Can Say Goodbye" a song that was popularized by the Jackson 5. This toe-tapper was an instant hit with the crowd, now dating themselves through the sheer volume of their response and applause while the organ-growls pressed hard into the room's walls.
As a way of relieving the tension and emotional angst in the room, DeFrancesco turned to Mexican song writer Maria Mendez Grever for "What a Diff'rence a Day Makes." (Cuando Vuelva A Tu Lado) and which was turned into a big 1959 R & B hit by the late singer Dinah Washington. The room let out a collective gasp, and I suspect more than a few hearts began to flutter.
At this point I was becoming a little impatient with the song selections. I wanted DeFrancesco to crack open some James Oscar Smith (a. k. a. Jimmy Smith). I wanted him to pour me 'three or four fingers' of "The Champ" or "The Sermon" or "Back at the Chicken Shack." I know that Jimmy Smith had given DeFrancesco the keys to the cellar before he checked out, and I had come out for a taste. But then I really noticed 'the crowd.' It was a Sunday night set; middle of the road; Not exactly hard core consumers of one-hundred-percent proof jazz funk libations; so I sat back, sipped some warm sake...and watched; and waited; like Elmer Fudd stalking Bugs Bunny.
They wasted no time on ignition; jumping right into a wicked swinger called "Blues in Three." DeFrancesco seemed oddly detached at first, nothing that was visible on his frame appeared to be alive or moving - hands; shoulders; head; nothing; but an incredible wave of energy and sound was coming out of that Hammond B-3 like a B-52 aircraft cleared for takeoff. It did not take long for drummer Ramon Banda to get into the act. He put his drum set through a thorough mugging and then turned things over to guitarist Rick Zunigar who kept DeFrancesco caged until he ran out of interesting things to do on the guitar's fret. Joey D then roared back in, took things up several decibels, dropping a few well placed quotes into his solo, one of which was "Pennies From Heaven." The room got excited! Now there was life! The sleeping giant had awakened. DeFrancesco's hands flew across the organ's keys, his body rocked from side-to-side, and he had a big, wide grin covering his face: The warm up was over. The fire was lit. The audience was put on notice: This dude was here to swing!
As a follow up, DeFrancesco pulled out another scorcher curiously named "V & G." He did not choose to disclose what V & G stood for, but when it ended and the smoke had cleared a bit, he initiated some banter with the crowd, letting on that he was really thrilled to be back at Yoshi's in Oakland, California, and that he considered it one of the best jazz clubs in the world. This unsolicited bit of information drove my heart rate racing in a northerly arc. I suddenly realized that not only was I diggin' the top jazz organist on the planet, but I was ensconced in "one of the best jazz clubs in the world." I mean, this is a guy that has places to go , lots of people to see, and mucho things to do. So I'm down for his word!
All of a sudden, life is good!
The mood was changed for the next two numbers, the first was a medium tempo piece with a distinct Latin feel, this set the audience up nicely for the Bob Haggard/Johnny Burke standard "What's New," during which DeFrancesco took the room down to the stillness of a church; Zunigar's guitar painted beautiful stained-glass colors, and Banda applied his brushes to the drums with the practiced care of a monk. The air went out of the room, and a twilight descended.
After the audience was done confessin', DeFrancesco commenced a wanton assault on his Hammond B-3. He launched into Clifton Davis' "Never Can Say Goodbye" a song that was popularized by the Jackson 5. This toe-tapper was an instant hit with the crowd, now dating themselves through the sheer volume of their response and applause while the organ-growls pressed hard into the room's walls.
As a way of relieving the tension and emotional angst in the room, DeFrancesco turned to Mexican song writer Maria Mendez Grever for "What a Diff'rence a Day Makes." (Cuando Vuelva A Tu Lado) and which was turned into a big 1959 R & B hit by the late singer Dinah Washington. The room let out a collective gasp, and I suspect more than a few hearts began to flutter.
At this point I was becoming a little impatient with the song selections. I wanted DeFrancesco to crack open some James Oscar Smith (a. k. a. Jimmy Smith). I wanted him to pour me 'three or four fingers' of "The Champ" or "The Sermon" or "Back at the Chicken Shack." I know that Jimmy Smith had given DeFrancesco the keys to the cellar before he checked out, and I had come out for a taste. But then I really noticed 'the crowd.' It was a Sunday night set; middle of the road; Not exactly hard core consumers of one-hundred-percent proof jazz funk libations; so I sat back, sipped some warm sake...and watched; and waited; like Elmer Fudd stalking Bugs Bunny.
Joey DeFrancesco is not only a dynamite jazz organist to listen to, he is also a fun performer to 'watch while he works' (as the great soul man Wilson Pickett used to say). He displays a natural ebullience towards his band mates; encouraging them to prolong their solos, showing genuine satisfaction at their efforts; and subtly complimenting their dexterity. The audience naturally picks up on these nuances; they signal that the unit is tight; they never want to let go. DeFrancesco becomes a larger than life performer, and it's like one big, fun, family affair.
Just then, he jump-started my hopes with something jazzy and swingin.' He did not announce its title, but I sensed that he was getting close to James Oscar Smith, because in the furrows of the tune, he was inserting quotes, 'a la Dexter Gordon,' that glistened and danced through the ripples of the melody like shiny coins in a fountain. It felt comforting.
Just as that number ended, he announced calmly to the audience that the next tune was the last one and the reason he was telling them then, was to avoid them pounding the tables for him to return to the stage to do an encore; and with that he let loose, and I mean let loose...James Oscar Smith's, "Back at the Chicken Shack." He had descended the stairs to the cellar, put the key in the lock, and pulled out a gem. I closed my eyes; listened to that Hammond B-3 pour out a connoisseur's dream of Smith special reserve, and literally tasted it... James Oscar Smith was right there on the stage, making that Hammond B-3 weep and swing, deep and sonorous; getting it deep into your soul; grabbing you hard; moving you; and not letting you go. It was worth the wait; big wide grins broke out all over the place!
"Jo-eee!Jo-eee!Jo-eee!" That's what they shouted when he got through and walked off the stage. I was speechless.
"Jo-eee!Jo-eee!Jo-eee!" they continued. To my surprise DeFrancesco and the band returned to the stage. He greeted them with:
"You want more? You don't sound like you want more!"
The room almost broke out in pandemonium. People that probably never had screamed before for anything in their lives, were now beside themselves with excitement.
So DeFrancesco tells them, "OK. I'm gonna play you the blues."
Now that DeFrancesco had promised to play "the blues," the crowd was ready for 'the blues' and there was no denying them.
Joey DeFrancesco sat down at the Hammond B-3, Rick Zunigar and Ramon Banda took up their positions, and they played about forty-five seconds of "the blues." Then they all calmly got up. DeFrancesco said "good night," and they all walked off the stage.....
Just then, he jump-started my hopes with something jazzy and swingin.' He did not announce its title, but I sensed that he was getting close to James Oscar Smith, because in the furrows of the tune, he was inserting quotes, 'a la Dexter Gordon,' that glistened and danced through the ripples of the melody like shiny coins in a fountain. It felt comforting.
Just as that number ended, he announced calmly to the audience that the next tune was the last one and the reason he was telling them then, was to avoid them pounding the tables for him to return to the stage to do an encore; and with that he let loose, and I mean let loose...James Oscar Smith's, "Back at the Chicken Shack." He had descended the stairs to the cellar, put the key in the lock, and pulled out a gem. I closed my eyes; listened to that Hammond B-3 pour out a connoisseur's dream of Smith special reserve, and literally tasted it... James Oscar Smith was right there on the stage, making that Hammond B-3 weep and swing, deep and sonorous; getting it deep into your soul; grabbing you hard; moving you; and not letting you go. It was worth the wait; big wide grins broke out all over the place!
"Jo-eee!Jo-eee!Jo-eee!" That's what they shouted when he got through and walked off the stage. I was speechless.
"Jo-eee!Jo-eee!Jo-eee!" they continued. To my surprise DeFrancesco and the band returned to the stage. He greeted them with:
"You want more? You don't sound like you want more!"
The room almost broke out in pandemonium. People that probably never had screamed before for anything in their lives, were now beside themselves with excitement.
So DeFrancesco tells them, "OK. I'm gonna play you the blues."
Now that DeFrancesco had promised to play "the blues," the crowd was ready for 'the blues' and there was no denying them.
Joey DeFrancesco sat down at the Hammond B-3, Rick Zunigar and Ramon Banda took up their positions, and they played about forty-five seconds of "the blues." Then they all calmly got up. DeFrancesco said "good night," and they all walked off the stage.....
"Joey! Joey!Joey!Joey!Joey!"
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