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Skanking With Duppy A'Jamba

Reggae/Ska/Punk merrymakers are one of the best live acts in the area

By RIC HICKEY · May 20th, 2009 · Music
5 Comments
       

After parking my car on Washington Avenue in Newport, I get out and start walking north toward the river. Only a few steps from my car, still 30 yards shy of the door to the Crazy Fox Saloon, I hear a deep, dark Dub Reggae groove slinking through the nighttime air like lazy smoke with an urgent message.

This mesmeric music drifts through a muggy April Saturday night as the surrounding neighborhood sniffs, itches and coughs like a brick-and-mortar junky and the sidewalk trembles with the beat on the one and the three. The other buildings in the neighborhood seem to lean forward slightly, straining for a better look, hoping for a chance to gain a glimpse of the weird, undulating cool of the Crazy Fox. As I pull open the door to the club a gaggle of drunken revelers spills out on to the sidewalk as if the bar could barely contain the rowdy crowd inside.

It’s damn near impossible to get a drink because the bar is so packed and understaffed. Undeterred, the crowd in the front room hoots and hollers. Some jockey for position at the bar, red-eyed already and teeth grinding with the frustration of dealing with a bartender who hasn’t looked your way since the Carter administration. Others duck outside for a nip from a bottle in their car. Someone kicks over a burlap sack of colored pencils under the piano bench and I seize the noisy distraction as an opportunity to stuff my pockets full of free condoms from a bin on top of the piano.

Squirming and sidling through the tiny front barroom I finally leap up the two steps that lead to the back room where Duppy A’Jamba is rocking out for a packed house. I see the familiar faces of friends and I join them on the perimeter of a jampacked dance floor.

Duppy frontman J Duckworth is a dancing, dervish hybrid of Peter Tosh and Joe Strummer. He punches the air with boisterous barks and shouts, straining a voice already ragged and raspy. And it’s still early in the band’s first set of the evening. Dressed in black, his Punk Undertaker ensemble set off by gleaming white shoes, Duckworth taunts and cajoles a dozen dancers up front.

“I’m gonna need all of you people to take a step forward!” he bellows over the band.

His chaotic, speed-freak energy-trance propels him and his guitar out on to the dance floor time and again throughout the evening, smashing the fourth wall between performer and audience. Duckworth’s impulsive animal instinct bonds the band and audience together. In this way he makes the dancers full contributors and energetic participants in the performance. The band brews a boiling Jamaican stew and all in attendance become active ingredients.

The crowd is moving like one: hands in the hair, feet flapping, elbows and knees bending and extending furiously to the band’s irrepressible Punk Ska energy. Now and then a head bobs above the fray like a fish leaping out of the ocean for a death-defying flip-flop flight, then it’s back into the bouncing mob. Guys take note: There’s a ton of young chicks in the crowd at Duppy shows.

The music simmers and percolates while band members leap about like jumping beans on a hot plate. Keyboard player Alex Duckworth and bassman Sam Schweiger share a mid-song cigarette without missing a beat. By no means tethered to his keyboard, Alex works the back of the stage, stalking to and fro, smiling and nudging the horn players then tossing his fedora into the sweaty crowd. Swallowed up by the pack of dancers, the hat soon emerges on a friend’s bobbing head. The keyboardist looks relieved that his lid wasn’t lifted, only loaned, while Schweiger’s bass rumbles the room like a steady rolling tremor.

Drummer Daniel Peterson keeps the beat up and rugged, rock steady and resilient. He and his kit smushed into the corner, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his countenance one of hard work seriousness. Percussionist Jeff Rickels looks on in amusement while thumping the djembe. His big brown beard makes a valiant effort to disguise his smirk but ultimately fails.

Duppy A’Jamba’s horn section, sax player Brain Gilronan and trombonist Chap Sowash, might be its strongest attribute. Betraying a soul-deep and effortless calm normally seen only in much older musicians, these two ooze cool. In what is perhaps a tacit acknowledgement of the jazzman’s impeccable dress code, Gilronan and Sowash are also often the most dapper Duppies onstage. While Gilronan rolls out a slinky sax line that sounds like a rabid leopard in heat, Sowash’s heavy-lidded expression defiantly refutes the decades of apathy and misunderstanding accorded to Jazz players since the music’s inception. They trade solos and wave the shiny brass instruments over their heads, shouting and singing along with every song.

This particular Duppy gig at the Crazy Fox was a celebration of the band’s third anniversary and the release of a new EP to commemorate the event. Already veterans of both Cincy Punk Fest and Cincy Ska Fest, Duppy A’Jamba has recently hit the road on a DIY tour circuit that has taken them all around the Midwest and as far as New Orleans. They were also nominated in the Best World Music category at last year’s Cincinnati Entertainment Awards.

Recently the band emerged unscathed and indeed stronger than ever after the sudden departure and eventual replacement of two original members. On the debut CD they released last year Duppy A’Jamba displayed a cool confidence and lazy-eyed romanticism. But in live performance they are off-the-hook crazy, flailing about like loco coyotes on laughing gas, giving themselves over to the infectious energy that they themselves are creating and losing themselves in the moment.

There is something for us all to learn from this. The present moment being, after all, the only one we have.


DUPPY A’JAMBA plays the Southgate House Saturday. Get details and find nearby bars and restaurants here.

 
 
 
 

 

 
06.27.2009 at 08:55 Reply
Comparing Jay Duckworth to Peter Tosh and Joe Strummer is a farce and disrespects the memories of actual musicians that used their talent to craft beautiful music. Jay has neither talent nor any real musical ability at all... sure, he can string chords together in a semi-logical sequence, but he was not responsible for creating the beautiful music Duppy used to play; his chords were used by other, more talented members in the band to craft the songs you all hear - if Jay could sing, that could be forgiven, but he can't... and their third anniversary would never have happened had it not been for two individuals that are no longer with the group; one of the members being tossed out without any recognition for his part in the success Duppy experiences (if you can call it that). Jay is a talentless hack and the deep, dark dub reggae Ric Hickey mentions - yeah, Duppy doesn't play deep, dark dub reggae anymore. They are depraved, horrible people - except for Jeff and the Horn Section.

 

07.20.2009 at 04:42
J Duckworth and the rest of dupppy a jamba are practiced, dedicated and talented musicians. they give off a buzz that feeds the need for a beat. with the addition of their present drummer daniel peterson, and bassist sam schweiger, duppy a jamba thrives in the fullest sense of the word. i have never seen a band in cincinnati fill so many people with rhythm and smiles and energy and pleasure the way duppy does. every show is different and new..evey song is beautifuly put together by J and carried out into the steamy sea of tight, transic sound that the new duppy a jamba has perfected for themselves. from a fan's point of view, this band is in it's prime, and from the crowds eyes ears and souls, gets stronger each show

 

07.20.2009 at 09:57 Reply
Daniel Peterson is a KICK A$$ drummer who deserves galactic props! I'm friends with the entire band, and I can tell you Daniel has more skills in his left kidney than the last drummer they had! Unfortunately Mike (bass player) moved - but fortunately for the band, good ol' Sam stepped in and makes the entire band ebb and flow the way reggae and ska should. You can't help but get up off your chair/bar stool and dance your butt off to every song. Jeff keeps the heartbeat thumping on the djimbay - Alex, Chap and B-rain polishes the entire gift these guys present at each show. Jay is a master of lyric, a jedi with rhythm, .... and doesn't talk with some marble mouthed British accent even though he's from Ohio/Kentucky.

 

10.25.2009 at 08:55
1. I am glad you are friends with the entire band - if I had a cookie, I would give it to you. I mean, wow, what an achievement. 2. More skills in his left kidney? Like, he produces urine better than most? If so, then Galactic props to him. If you what I think you mean, you're an idiot and you're jealous. 3. My point is this: Jay is NOT Peter Tosh or Joe Strummer, never will be, and to suggest such a thing is so ridiculous, I had to mention it.

 

10.17.2009 at 08:40 Reply
Who is talking about drummers? I am confused. The word "drummer" does not appear in the comments of Mr. Slinkymello, so why does Mr. NashvilleMusic feel it's necessary to bring up the poor old drummer guy with a speech impediment and a perceived lack of drummer skills? I am a friend of the old drummer, yes, and maybe he does suck. I don't know... but he has nothing bad to say about the band. The fact that Jay... ah, errr, ahem... I mean, Mr. NashvilleMusic has some sort of inferiority complex and needs to insult him is sad. No, the previous comment by Mr. Slinkymello was about the lack of talent Mr. JAY DUCKWORTH possesses. The comparison of said Duckworth to Peter Tosh or Joe Strummer alone is ludicrous and raised the ire of Mr. Slinkymello. Of course, Mr. Duckworth, or Mr. NashvilleMusic as I like to call him (or maybe it isn't Jay, maybe it's one of the other idiots that believes what he says, that he has talent, is a gutterpunk - he's a poser actually - and is going somewhere with his little band of lily-white hillbillies is out of their mind and should kindly remove his tiny sack from their mouth). Anyway, you're an idiot Jay, I'm not your former drummer, grow up, and get over yourself.

 

 
 
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