tinpanband.com

Although they did describe us a “A little dorky,” I still think that somehow gives more cred. If we came off all slick it wouldn’t be quite what we’re projecting either: the earnest, simplicity of feel-good music and the natural blues.

The singer lowers his trumpet and leans back against the wall, belting out another song, eyes shut, heart open.

Exactly.

Here is the part of the article related to Tin Pan. For the full monte head here.

Soul Train

Roxana Robinson

It’s hard to hold a crowd on the platform. We’re a captive audience, but only until the train arrives. The mezzanine floor at 14th Street is a better venue because we don’t see the train we’re about to miss, and we might linger to listen.

Late one afternoon, there are five guys there, in their early 40s: the Tin Pan Blues Band. They’re playing lively, funky jazz on banjo, clarinet, trumpet, saxophone, bass and a silver guitar. The trumpet player sits on a chair in the middle. He has a roundish face, a short, nondescript beard and glasses. They all look like this: friendly, a bit dorky. The clarinetist wears an ochre sweater with red diamonds across the chest.

The trumpeter lowers his horn and begins to sing “St. Louis Woman.” He has a strong, bluesy voice, not beautiful, but full of heart. We all feel it. The bass thumps. The crowd thickens. The singer cries, “I wish I could shimmy like my sister Kate.” We all wish we could, too.

In an open space, two couples are dancing. A girl with long blond hair, a red sash around her hips, bell-bottom jeans. Her partner is a young guy, with a brown blazer and a soft cap. The other girl, with long hair and bangs, wears a black dress and neon pink tights. Her partner’s in a black blazer and a black hat with a red feather. They’re dipping and twirling, spinning and sliding. We’re rapt. There are about 40 of us. It’s nearly 5 o’clock, and we need to get home. We can’t move.

The singer belts out “Bill Bailey.” The man beside me says, “No mike, right? He must be exhausted!” He’s right, there is no mike. It’s just us and them. A young mother holds her crying daughter in her arms, swaying to the music. Her daughter turns quiet. The singer picks up his horn and puts in a mute. The dancers switch partners. The woman beside me says, in a thick Jamaican accent: “I love this music! I love the dancing! I love it!”

People coming up the stairs find themselves suddenly center stage, in the middle of a concert. Hurrying past, they turn to look. Some of them quickly throw bills into the open case. The singer lowers his trumpet and leans back against the wall, belting out another song, eyes shut, heart open.

It’s long after 5 when I finally tear myself away. They’re still singing. I go downstairs, still listening, and get on the wrong train. By the time I realize it, I’m on the wrong side of town. I get off the subway and go up to stand in the dark, waiting for the crosstown bus.

Today’s strange but true story . . . Right at the end of one of our sets today in Central Park, Clifton points over to a guy who looks suspiciously like Rupert Murdoch. “That has to be Rupert Murdoch.” We were standing up by the CD’s dealing with some new fans.

“Go over there and see if he’s speaking in Australian!,” I suggested.

Clifton took a few paces over to our left but then Murdoch started to come towards us and dropped a $5 in the case.

“Hey, Thanks!”, I said.

“You guys are terrific.” It was Rupert Murdoch

His accent and his voice were instantaneously recognizable. He walks away.

“Here’s the out part,” Clifton begins moments later, “He didn’t have any money. He had to ask his son for that fiver!”

And that corroborated what I saw too. (because we were kind of staring) I saw him ask some guy for some money and that’s the money he came over and gave to us. Kind of hilarious.

——
So can I put Rupert Murdoch’s quote in our press kit?

Big-ups to Ben Lazar who recently wrote us a great Bio for our press kit. Ben runs a blog called A Deeper Shade of Soul that has all kinds of fun, yummy, rock and soul downloadables and cogent commentary to boot. So, a public thank you to Ben who did a great job. See for yourself:

Bio

Tin Pan connotes a world from the past – the most dominant and enlightened strains of American music of the early part of the 20th century – jazz, blues and American popular song. But it would be a mistake to say that Tin Pan is fixed in that past. Rather, it is music created to be enjoyed profoundly and joyously in the present. The band has created a rabid following by playing music that resonates powerfully because its intention is pure – to make people dance, smile and conjure with the spirit of music itself. On their new album, Hound’s Tooth, the band has perfected their sonic vision – effortless, wondrous and festive, feeling much like, as the band describes themselves, Ray Charles and Tom Waits at a Bourbon Street Parade.

Comprised of Jesse Selengut on trumpet, vocals and compositions, Clifton Hyde on guitar, Stefan Zeniuk on reeds and Rob Adkins on bass, Tin Pan evokes everything from Fats Waller and Louis Armstrong to Irving Berlin and Hoagy Carmichael. Founded in 2006 by Selengut, a long time New York based musician, and the curator of the Williamsburg Jazz Festival, the band sprung from what he calls, “a need for this kind of music.” He elaborates, “As soon as I started playing this music, it just felt so easy and natural. It’s simplicity demands that you be totally committed to it – there’s no hiding behind theory or pose.”

Finding players to fit his vision was challenging, but when Selengut met Mississippi native Clifton Hyde, who has played with Lou Reed, Debbie Harry, Blue Man Group and others, he knew he found the right man. “I auditioned about 25 different guitarists,” Jesse recalls, “and right away I knew Clifton was perfect. He’s experienced with blues and jazz but isn’t constrained by excessive training. And he has an intuitive understanding of what dancers need.” Stefan Zeniuk entered the picture through Clifton, bringing in a touch of the avant-garde to the proceedings. “I’m not even sure Stefan is that interested in jazz. He’s just got incredible energy – (saxophonist) Tim Berne was his babysitter. I think that affected him for life,” says Selengut with a laugh. Bassist Rob Adkins was commandeered when the band encountered him at a jazz session. “Clifton and I saw him,” remembers Jesse, “and we just said, ‘that guy.’”

Describing themselves as a “street band,” they often play in Central Park and in the New York City transit system. It’s the embodiment of the band’s belief that their music should be accessible – literally and figuratively. With two previous CD releases, Early Jazz and Americana and Alice McNulty, they sold a total of 6000 CD’s in 2008, a phenomenal total for an completely unsigned band, and earned rave notices in the New York Times and Huffington Post, among others.

And the singularity of their sound, coupled with the sheer pleasure of it, has earned the band a multitude of exposure, with some seemingly strange bedfellows. “We played a campaign event for (New York City) Mayor Bloomberg, we’ve played the Guggenheim…and we’ve played supporting for MC Hammer. It’s sort of surreal,” notes Jesse. Playing around 180 shows per year, mainly in New York, the band lives out their commitment to enliven through sharing this music.

On Hound’s Tooth, the band has honed and distilled their music to its most profound essence. Produced by Clifton and Jesse, the recording process is simple: set up the microphones and play. From the opening notes of “If The Sea Was Whiskey,” what you’re hearing are master craftsman recreating Americana anew. Clifton’s guitar meshes perfectly with Rob’s stand-up bass, and the horns are by turn mournful and celebratory, triumphant and heartbreaking – the sound of a newly found romance in a late night speakeasy, filled with foreboding passion. Jesse’s vocals, fervent and impassioned, are uniquely his own – he has found a space that encompasses everything from Bessie Smith to Tom Waits.

The band is expanding their reach – they are beginning to tour nationally and have found a place in the enormous swing dancing community. Best Buy has taken Hound’s Tooth into their stores for national distribution. And they’ll be playing the influential venue Joe’s Pub in June – another huge sign that this band has arrived. “We may have been together for three years already,” declares Jesse, “but I feel like it’s all just starting now. The band is playing beautifully. I’ve become more confident as a front man. We’re really starting to grab people and have them in the palm of our hand.” In the coming months, it seems assured that the legend of Tin Pan will only grow, as word of their excellence travels, but even more importantly, from the love with which they play.

Clifton must live vicariously through the pleasure others get from going shopping for musical instruments. He always seems enthusiastically down for the pursuit of new and interesting and good sounding instruments. Hell, last year he drove Stefan all the way to Indiana to buy a horn. It was a bass sax and that’s a pretty special and mammoth thing. Today we just went shopping for a trumpet. A proportionally much shorter trip was required.

Clifton called me the other day and sad he had a system for this kind of thing. I was expecting him to have an eBay strategy or maybe he had some contacts that would be helpful. In fact, his strategy required a blindfold and two people. In essence I would be blindfolded and he would just keep handing me horns keeping track of my reactions.

But why did I need a horn in the first place? I have been playng the same model – a Bach Strad – since my dad first bought me a used one to replace my student Holton when I was thirteen. A few years ago, I had some money saved up and went to Sam Ash and tried a whole bunch of horns and settled on the exact same make and model. It just felt right and for the music I was doing at the time it was the right choice.

A few months ago I was at Cassidy’s place and his roommate had an old horn in the corner. I asked to try it and sounded great: warm, huge and it got easier and louder as I started playing the highest notes. Eventually I worked out a trade and I exchanged my back-up Bach (a pro always needs a back-up) for this vintage looking horn. It was so tarnished that it was making my hands black when I picked it up. I polished it and it looked a lot less vintage: gleaming silver, a Connstellation Pro was the model name from the Conn factory. It turns out it was made in the early nineties. Whatever, it sounded great. A one point I did a show with a free jazz orchestra (see here) and this trumpet soared louder and higher than any other trumpet on stage. Now, I’m generally not that guy, but with this Connstellation I was happy to step into that roll for a change. With Tin Pan, the horn had a huge sound for outdoors and was easy to play. It blended a lot better with Stefan’s enormous sound.

I was playing that gem for about three months when I get a call from Cassidy’s roommate saying that the horn needed to come home. The time away had made the roommate become aware just how much sentimental value it had. Of course I resisted at first even offering a whole mess of cash to make the trade complete and final. I even mentioned that according to the market value the horn I had given her was nearly twice that of the Conn. No dice.

That same day I took my good Bach out of its case. Before I put any breath into it I just held it my hands. I pressed the first valve down and the spring inside the valve kicked off a sensual electric hum all throughout the trumpet. That one spring vibrated for a good twenty seconds. This horn just felt great: solid, clean, precise, strong, like a light saber or a laser beam.

All that is well and good and I do love my Bach Strad. But for Tin Pan I was needing that other sound. Darker, rounder, more gravy, dirtier, with a side of pudding. Also thicker and louder with a wallop!

And that’s why I was on the hunt with Clifton sitting in a tiny room with a blindfold on my eyes.

For horn after horn I would stretch out my hand, fumble for the correct alignment and put the horn to my lips and give it a shot. Clifton seemed to be taking some delight in handing me the trumpets in any old way: sometimes with the bell towards me, sometimes upside down. I felt like a marine who has to learn how to assemble his gun by feel alone.

Certain horns were discarded immediately. The feel of the horn in my hands or the feel of the breath through the horn made me immediately aware of poor workmanship or defects in tuning. Of course the valves were a give away. If they were clunky or noisy or slow there was no choice it would make it to the next round. Other horns just felt terrific but were not giving me the rich sound that I wanted. Sometimes I would confer with Clifton, “This one feels great but its too bright sounding. You?” “Yep.”

One horn had these knobby valve keys that felt very slippery on my hands. They were rather small (an indication of an old vintage horn) on my fingers. I blew through it and had an immediate negative reaction. Clifton asked me to check it again. It turned out it was a very old Martin Committee – one of the “Holy Grail” trumpets. I didn’t like it. If this was a great make and a great year it was probably a factory lemon. About thirty horns later he handed me another Martin Committee (I could tell from the feel of the valves) and this one felt a lot better but it still was not my thing.

Clifton told me later that he secretly had hoped that I would pick a student Holton or a bright red lacquered, cheesy looking Martin (circa Miles Davis Doo-Bop period). He had hoped that I would be like, “That’s my sound!!” and then be delighted or disgusted that it was a jive piece of metal.

Other horns just felt terrific. After about an hour I needed a break and after about an hour and a half I had gone through all the horns in the shop and there we 16 that were possibles. When I walked out of the practice room I noticed them sitting on a bench but Clifton did not let me get too close to see what was there.

The whole experience so far left me with a much deeper sensitivity to feel and sound than I would have had otherwise. I began to be able to distinguish a whole other set of characteristics than I would have been able to had I been using my eyes as well.

After a little break we recommenced but this time out in the bigger display room as some of the horns would sound different in a larger space. It was a good idea. Certain horns, one Conn in particular, sounded great in the small room but were kind of flabby or mushy in a larger room where the reflections of the walls were not so immediate. At this stage I was holding the valve part of the horn up to my ears and pressing the valves to hear the hum of the springs inside the valve casing. There is a subtle and exciting whirr to a very well made horn that feels like live electricity, a pulsating potential of energy latent inside the horn.

Eventually there were just four horns left and then finally Clifton let me take the blindfold off and see what I was dealing with. The four horns came in two pairs: A vintage Conn not so different than the one that this girl had lent me for the last few months and the modern Conn that was a redo of that vintage one. Also there was a Bach Mt. Vernon (another sought after horn) and the modern replica of the old one. From looking at them, the new Bach was the most delightful on the eyes and the Mt. Vernon just looked like a dog. It had a horrible yellowish, thick re-lacquer on it. I never would have picked it with my eyes but there it was.

The old Conn was good too but in this case the new Conn played slightly better. I knew that I was going to trade in my back-up Silver Bach for whatever new horn I was going to purchase but Clifton suggested that I trade in both of my Bachs for the new Conn and the older Mt. Vernon. I didn’t think this was such a good idea but Clifton went back out to the car and brought in my wonderful silver Bach. I picked up for a second and knew immediately that getting rid of it was a big mistake.

The moment of truth… I went for the vintage Bach Mt. Vernon. An ugly mutt of a horn to look at. Some replacement parts had been poorly soldered to it over the years. The horn itself was very sound and played great. I knew that all I had to do was get the lacquer taken off and eventually the natural brass look of it would be acceptable. At one point, I was waffling about the newer Bach because it just looked so damn cool. There was an old timer Cornet player in the room with us at that moment and he told me that I would be an idiot to base my decision on how the horn looked. He gave me a look that was so demeaning to that line of thought! “Are you a fool?!”

And there you have it. Bach Mt. Vernon #22652 circa 1962. I’ve been playing it for about three weeks. I wanted to schedule an appointment with Josh Landress over at Sam Ash to strip the lacquer off the thing right away. Frustratingly, they had just moved buildings and I would have to wait three weeks for his new shop to be set up. Regardless, the horn sounds great on the street. It is similar to my silver Bach in the way it handles and feels but its tone is richer, darker and has a rougher textrure some how. It just feels older and more unique. It’s got a character and a sound that it is all its own. The silver Bach I have certainly sounds like me when I play it, but its got a versatility that would make it useful for classical or latin as well. This Mt. Vernon just feels right for Tin Pan music.

I finally made it over to Josh’s workshop today and he stripped the lacquer off the horn. I was expecting it to look immediately old and awesome. In fact, it looks even worse; more yellow and more shiny! The actual color of raw brass. I was assured, however, that because there is no lacquer or any kind of protection on it, it would begin to soften and darken in color and become more and more “antique” looking. Josh even suggested that if I ate more meat it would make my sweat more acidic and the result would be a darker horn. Whatever, I’m just going to my thing and see how it progresses. Here’s a picture of the horn the way it looks today. In a few weeks I will post another photo to show how it is changing over time. Even though I was a little disappointed when I picked it up from the shop today I am excited by the process part of this – how the look will change and develop over time.