Tribute band turn back the years

VIBRATING as naturally as the column of air in a saxophone, the audience in the ballroom at the epicentre of the Guinness Jazz Festival celebrated the sounds of a band named after a dildo.

For a crowd far too old to know Westlife by their first names, here was a chance to relive the hits of Steely Dan, courtesy of tribute band the Dan Clan.

As Rikki Don’t Lose that Number blasted out of the speakers, dyed-in-the-wool blondes boogied their way through any space that opened up before them. At the bar, ageing rockers tried not to look like ageing rockers, downing pints with the wild abandon of their teenage years.

For those in search of music with more than a nod towards jazz, the Melanie O’Reilly quartet in the Birdlands Room of the Gresham Metropole proved an interesting diversion. Belting out nonsense syllables at admirable speed, the Diane Keaton-lookalike gave an entertaining performance of scat amid the wolf-whistles and hollers of her listeners.

“Be-de-be-de-be-de-bop” she sang in a variety of melodies and scales, before wrapping up with “Diddle diddle diddle dat,” a hybrid version of bebop and Irish trad that left the mob unsure of whether to jig or jazz dance.

In the Met Tavern, things were very mellow indeed, with Jeremy Sawkins Jazz Organism bringing imbibers down from their night-before high. Parents, babies and buggies added another dose of reality, milling in from the rain.

A few doors down away from the crowd, the real jazz enthusiasts packed the fading decadence of the Palace Theatre. Here, Roy Haynes’ Fountain of Youth let fly with explosive solo performances and collective, complex harmonies, brilliantly executed. What the diminutive legendary drummer lacks in stature he more than makes up for in immeasurable talent, with his unrelenting swing and surprising sounds.

Further down McCurtain St, Gallagher’s bar swung to the sound of jazz while simultaneously showing Dundee Utd play Celtic. Harry and Friends entertained in the Shelbourne, followed by Cat Scratch. For those with a gnat’s interest in jazz, Cork city centre was brimming with shopping opportunities, retailers anxious to cash in on one of the year’s most lucrative weekends of the year.

Today, the upbeats will become more downbeat as the trumpet tootles peter out and the sax puts a lid on the headlong rush of demisemiquavers for another year. Time to reflect on how much of the weekend we can actually remember.

And all that jazz.