RECENT NEW ORLEANS GIGS & CDS (Vol 2)

Linnzi Zaorski and Delta Royale
by Reid Mitchell

What do we poor locals do when the Jazz and Heritage Fest is over and the crowds have abandoned New Orleans? We reclaim our bars and party harder. In New Orleans, music isn't a light bulb to be turned on and off; it's one of those forest fires that can't be contained. Since Jazz Fest shut down, I've still heard live music every night, most of it a five-minute stroll from my front door.

What's been happenin' lately? Linnzi Zaorski and Delta Royale.

SCENE: a wood paneled bar. It is early evening. KAREN moves up and down the bar, lighting candles. REID and LINNZI are sitting together at the bar. Enter DAVE.

DAVE: My goodness. Are you two on a date?
REID: No.
LINNZI (speaking over REID): Yes, we are.
DAVE (incredulous): Well, if you deserve each other....
LINNZI: Deserve Reid! I lost a bet!

OK, Linnzi Zaorski probably delivered the single best zinger I've heard in my life--at least heard applied to me. What can I do but admire her? Linnzi is our local torch singer. 1930s. Seamed stockings. Polka-dot dress. High heels. Hair worn in a 1930s style. My gender prevents me from remembering what the hairstyle is called, but it sure looks right. Even the microphone she uses looks right. Everything about Linnzi looks right. But it's her 1930s singing, the sound of baby-faced corruption, that does me in. She could be the singer onstage at the nightclub Phillip Marlowe forces his way into.

Linnzi has several permanent gigs around New Orleans, including Tuesday nights at The Spotted Cat on Frenchman Street and Sundays at Seaport on Bourbon Street. She came into d.b.a. last week for her CD release party. Wanting a pack of Lucky Strikes Green, I looked around for the cigarette girl, cursed the age we live in, and settled down for the show. As soon as she finished the first set, I bought the new CD. W

hat makes Hotsy-Totsy unusual and possibly unique among recent CDs by local bands is Trevor's not on it. I predict great success for it. Hotsy-Totsy opens with a Linnzi original, "Better Off Dead," that is not only one of the best tracks, but it shows just how dangerous it is wear the right clothes, shoes, and hair: you might become who you pretend to be. Always getting the 1930s sound down, Linnzi now has mastered the sensibilities.

Never treat me very good/ Nice and friendly like you could/ Why don't you tell me why I should, Hang around with you/ I'm so lonesome in my bed/ Gloom and sadness fill my head/ Think I might be better dead/ Than hang around with you/ I don't want a man to tease me/ Then leave me all alone/ Or have them other girls call you baby on the telephone/ Why don't you love me any more/ Or send me roses to my door/ Instead I'm crying on the floor/ Just thinking about you

Charlie Fardella's growly trumpet with its trace of Armstrong inflection is true gutbucket on "Better Off Dead;" think of "St. James Infirmary." Matt Rhody's violin is equally down and dirty. And the funeral march ending -- bomp-bomp-de-bomp, bomp-bomp-bomp-de-bomp-de-bomp -- is classic.

Hotsy-Totsy is filled with gems. For example, Chaz Leary's sudden doubletime percussion in "Undecided." On Frenchman Street, Chaz is best known as Washboard Chaz, and if you aren't careful you'll get through the entire album and not realize there is no drum kit. When you do realize it, you'll realize you haven't missed it at all. There's a slightly slowed-down version of "It Don't Mean a Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing," with Seva Venet's guitar solo -- all hot swing except that slight bebop feel that reminds me of Charlie Christian's Minton's sessions. Linnzi chooses to speed up "If I Could Be With You One Hour Tonight," emphasizing the urgency -- and full-tilt sexuality -- that was always in that standard. Dig Linnzi's interpretation of "All of Me," with her distinctive phrasing and the three-way switch off of the trumpet, violin, and guitar. Venet and bass player Robert Snow play a sort of unison solo in the wonderful "When I Get Low I Get High."

My man walked out/ Now you know that ain't right/ But he better watch out/ If I meet him tonight/ When I get low I get high

I thought I would never listen to "Caravan" with pleasure again; it has been covered by New Orleans musicians that many times. But Delta Royale resurrected it in a live version recorded a few months back at the Spotted Cat. Charlie's trumpet is great, as is Matt's gypsy fiddle. But it's Linnzi's vocal that reorients the song. There's something haunting, beautiful, and vaguely creepy about it. Linnzi hits syllables hard sometimes rather than words. "Car-ra-van." "In-vit-ting." It makes you hear even a standard as a song that demands attention. But by the end of the album, we "end right back where we start out."

"Evenin'," a song most famously recorded by Count Basie, but one which even Cab Calloway and T-Bone Walker waxed. It's a jazz blues that Linnzi sings with settled resignation.

Evening/ Each night you come and you find me/ Why must you always remind me/ That my man is gone/ Evening/ You got me deep in your power/ Each minute seems like an hour/ Since my man is gone/ Shadows fall/ On the wall/ That's the time I need your loving most of all/ Though I try how can I go on?/ Take me evening/ Let me sleep the grey dawn is breaking/ I don't care if I don't awaken/ Since my man is gone/

And the funeral band returns with its dirge: bomp-bomp-de-bomp, bomp-bomp-bomp-de-bomp-de-bomp.

See Linnzi and Delta Royale. Bring roses.