Customer Reviews

Devil May Care

5 star:		(5)
4 star:		(0)
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2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

I must admit that even though I'm a 50's jazz enthusiast I knew nothing about Bob Dorough before picking up this CD. I did so because most of the other reissues on this label have been very good (Johnny Hartman, Zoot Sims, Betty Roche etc.). Dorough blew me away. He's fresh, inventive and "oh so real" in his own unique way. Pianist, songwriter (title track among others) and singer, Dorough's style is gritty and unpolished but totally cool. Dorough is at the other end of the jazz singer spectrum from the silky smooth crooners that were popular at the time. His somewhat high pitched but wildly flexible pipes make no attempt to mask a southern drawl and his concept of jazz singing is so different from people like Torme or Mark Murphy (but I love those guys too!). Anyway, I'm babbling because I just love this CD. Highly recommended but be advised that some mainstreamers would consider Dorough "offbeat" (and thank God, because they'd be right!).

As the other reviewers note, Dorough's album is very quirky, and there's not a bad performance or song in the mix.

His improvisations and imitations are engaging. I was playing this in the car for a friend, and he said, "You just can't be sad when listening to this. It's not physically possible." Very true: the whole album is fun.

His voice is also recognizable a couple of generations: he was the voice behind many of the "Schoolhouse Rock" songs, so this album is at once familiar, and yet new and fresh. Best song on the album: "Johnny One Note."

Not only is this album one of the most influential recordings I've ever owned, but it remains fresh and vital with each new playing. Dorough put me on to lean yet lyric piano lines, wildly inventive arrangements, sophisticated melodic-harmonic material sung "in the vernacular" and, most of all, the value of a good melody complemented by strong lyrics. In fact, this album was my first exposure to many of the "standards" from the American Songbook--from swingers like "It Could Happen to You" to a ballad I still enjoy playing, "Polka Dots and Moonbeams." Dorough may be no Frank Sinatra, but he shares with the "Master Storyteller" a belief in the quality of the material. The point is not to use the songs as mere showcases for his unique musical personality but quite the opposite. His treatments, unorthodox though they may be, invariably end up serving the song, bringing the shape of the melody and straightforward poetry of the words into sharp and unforgettable clarity.

There's not a weak moment let alone a throwaway performance on the entire recording. Even when he takes an apparent side trip, emitting grating sounds ( "hide your heart from spring, don't let churchbells ring" on "It Could Happen to You"), he makes it all come around to the song's very essence. And don't let the "hard bopper" persona fool you. "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" is as intimate and strangely enchanting as it gets. His own tune, "You're the Dangerous Type of Girl," swings with such ease and joy it would make any femme fatale proud. His vocalese on "Yardbird Suite" evokes the soul of Bird far more convincingly than any similar attempts by Eddie Jefferson or John Hendricks. And he grooves Duke Ellington's "I Don't Mind" so infectiously (who else has ever bothered to do the tune?) that you wonder why it isn't as popular as "Satin Doll."

I wish I could bring the same amount of enthusiasm to Dorough's later recordings, which frequently strike me as self-consciously hip, as vehicles for this talented and irrepressible survivor to show his wares but at the expense of the song. On "Devil May Care" the energy and focus are in complete synch, resulting in timeless treatments that will reward the listener who stays with them. Dorough admittedly may be an "acquired taste" for many. Most good things in life are.

This album was one of the best investments I ever made as a teenager, and it remains fresh and vital with each new playing even today. Dorough put me on to lean yet lyric piano lines, wildly inventive arrangements, sophisticated melodic-harmonic material sung "in the vernacular" and, most of all, the value of a good melody complemented by strong lyrics. In fact, this album was my first exposure to many of the "standards" from the American Songbook--from swingers like "It Could Happen to You" to a ballad I still enjoy playing, "Polka Dots and Moonbeams." Dorough may be no Frank Sinatra, but he shares with the "Master Storyteller" a belief in the quality of the material. The point is not to use the songs as mere showcases for his unique musical personality but quite the opposite. His treatments, unorthodox though they may be, invariably end up serving the song, bringing the shape of the melody and straightforward poetry of the words into sharp and unforgettable clarity.

There's not a weak moment let alone a throwaway performance on the entire recording. Even when he takes an apparent side trip, emitting grating sounds ( "hide your heart from spring, don't let churchbells ring" on "It Could Happen to You"), he makes it all come around to the song's very essence. And don't let the "hard bopper" persona fool you. "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" is as intimate and strangely enchanting as it gets. His own tune, "You're the Dangerous Type of Girl," swings with such ease and joy it would make any femme fatale proud. His vocalese on "Yardbird Suite" evokes the soul of Bird more convincingly than any similar attempts by Eddie Jefferson or John Hendricks. And he grooves Duke Ellington's "I Don't Mind" so infectiously (who else has ever bothered to do the tune?) that you wonder why it isn't as popular as "Satin Doll."

I wish I could bring the same amount of enthusiasm to Dorough's later recordings, which frequently strike me as self-consciously hip, as vehicles for this talented and irrepressible survivor to show his wares but at the expense of the song. On "Devil May Care" the energy and focus are in complete synch, resulting in timeless treatments that will reward the listener who stays with them. Dorough admittedly may be an "acquired taste" for many. Most good things in life are.

It may be that Bob Dorough is an acquired taste, but I see it the other way round. First and formost is his sense of songwriting; he writes classics with real intelligence and humor, the best known of which is probably the title track from this classic recording. Second, his voice and style recall for me the jazz and coffee clubs of the late '50s and early '60s. It was the beginning of singer-songwriter scene, and many like Bob Dorough came out of the '50s jazz scene. This was particularly true of the West Coast, and San Francisco in particular. I suspect that, to truly enjoy someone like Bob Dorough, one must drop expectations and judgments and simply enjoy the good humor wrapped in such delightful songs and arrangements. Unlike many musicians, Dorough is simply being himself ... which is good!

Where do you start with this album? If you enjoy the sweet tones of Alfalfa from the Lil' Rascals, then this is the perfect album for you. The plain, mundane, off key tones of BoB [Spelled Backwards] are no match for the brilliance of the real players on this album. Overlooking the vocals, "Bravo" is the word I would use for the beatnik musicians who put real jam to jazz. Is there an instrumental version of this album?