Perhaps if they'd called it Royal Flush instead of Royal Toast, more people might've caught on. Ya see, this remarkable disc is a tribute to--of all things--plumbing. It's amazing to me that of the dozen or so reviews of this disc that I've perused, only two, both of them by Brits, picked up on the bathroom angle. Leader Hollenbeck, in his droll way, even deadpanned a direct inquiry from one American reviewer regarding the title tune by saying, "I like toast, and I noticed that if you put 'royal' in front of something, it seems elevated."
Yet the song titles "Crane Merit," "Kermag", "Armitage Shanks," "Sphinx," "Zurn," "Royal Toast," "Ideal Standard," and "American Standard" all reference plumbing manufacturers. Indeed, the only two titles (not counting brief interludes) that don't, "Paterna Terra" and "For Frederick Franck," have very personal meanings for composer Hollenbeck thereby earning a pass, one supposes, from the wry bathroom humor characterizing the rest of the song titles.
What's the point, you say? Got me. Is it some kind of Warholian move of elevating common objects to art? Industrial jazz? A tongue-in-cheek nod to American sanitary engineering? Who knows. What I do know is that it's among the finest music Hollenbeck's ever composed and performed. From the somber opening bars of the faux-elegiac chamber-jazzish first tune, "Crane Merit," to the shimmering mysterioso vibe of the closer, "For Frederick Franck," this is a special disc. The addition of Gary Versace to the Quintet was a master stroke. His spare pianisms add subtle depth and complexity to an already thick sound signature. By "thick" I mean not only dense, weighty, but thick in a musically analogous way to the thickness a Bernard Lonergan or an Alasdair McIntyre bring to philosophical theology. OK, maybe that's a stretch. But I want to say that even as Lonergan and McIntyre expound and riff upon Western theo-philosophy, so do Hollenbeck and co. upon the Western musical tradition.
What does it sound like? Pure enchantment, to these ears. Working man's chamber jazz--that is, without the high falutin' wine-'n'-cheese vibe ("Zurn," "American Standard"--with a little Klezmer thrown in). Worldly wise multiculturalism sans the NPR shtick ("Sphinx"). Quirky herky-jerky high-spiritedness ("Keramag," "Armitage Shanks"). The accessible avant-garde ("Paterna Terra," "Royal Toast"). Burnished ethereality ("Ideal Standard," "For Frederick Franck"). I'm entirely taken by this ravishing music. For me, the Claudia Quintet can do no wrong.