A piano player slid out of the woodwork. A rhythm section accrued and made it boogie. People listened. People danced. Players came and went. Natural selection prevailed. They got old-guy fuck-you attitude. The TexMex border beckoned. Louisiana lured them into the music of the swamp. A drummer brought Latin grooves and African mojo. The piano player fell in love with Monk again and set things swinging. The songs started arriving, sometimes cynical, sometimes sad. They got sharp. They got tight. They got GOOOD.

Seems like people are building borders these days. To keep people out. To keep people from connecting. These guys have spent years crossing over, border to border, place to place, culture to culture, groove to groove.

Some of these songs will defy you not to get down and shake it. Some of them will make you listen. And think.


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T ‘burn it’ Smith

Piano, keyboards, righteous upright bass, arranger, actor. Writes songs so good they tried to break his thumbs.
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Hank Young

Basses. Aka Henri Lelouche. Gets away with murder, musically. Hasn’t shot a man in decades. Honestly.
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Den O’Dair

Latinistagroovemeister extraordinaire. Drums, percussion. Ask him for a reversed clavérumba. Do it nicely.
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Trombone, melodica, clarinet, marimba. This girl said “How many instruments you play?” He said, “Only one at a time.”



The Band goes South

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