An uninspired, bad Voodoo Daddy

Check out Big Bad Voodoo Daddy sound clips at
The Planet of Sound.

By Brian Levinson

Swingers was a great movie. For 95 minutes, it managed to be true, clever, and most of all, funny as hell. Most of the humor stemmed from the complete dorkiness of the main characters--no matter how hip they tried to be, they were still Sega-playing losers. Mike was only able to land the lovely Lorraine by dropping the Rat Pack schtick and acting like a genuinely nice guy; Trent kept playing the game and got embarassed by the lady with the baby. Too much coolness, the movie seemed to say, is un-cool. Better to be yourself than Dean Martin.

The members of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy were featured in Swingers--they were the house band during the dance scene. Unfotunately, they didn't get the movie's message. Their eponymous debut album smacks of flaccid white-boy posturing.

While the band plays well together, they never achieve the level of coolness they set out to; they just don't have enough soul to pull it off. The L.A. octet is all kitschy-retro attitude and no substance. Like Trent, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy is a little too money for
its own good.

Voodoo Daddy plays seriously upbeat swing music. The arrangements are filled with horn and sax parts, the lyrics are packed with references to martinis and pinstripe suits. It's music designed to make you get up and dance around like a fool. And, if you're drunk enough, it might succeed. Otherwise, it comes up short. The production, by Brad Benedict, Michael Frondelli, and singer-songwriter-guitarist Scotty Morris, has a painful digital slickness to it. Likewise, Morris's smooth tenor is nasal and dull, and his scatting is bad enough to make you long for the next release by that "I'm the Scatman" guy.

The biggest problem, though, is that the songs just aren't very exciting. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy tries to get you to cut the rug; but at their best, they're only able to get you to halfheartedly slice a rubber doormat. They often sound inhibited, and never bring the temperature up to a searing-hot level.

Although the musicians try their hardest, coming up with some truly energetic solos (trumpeter Glen Marshevka and saxophonist Karl Hunter, in particular, turn in some pretty fine swing), their virtuosity can't overcome the blandness of tunes like "Please Baby." The attempt at a mambo number falls flat, and the cover of "Minnie the Moocher" lacks vigor.

There are a few good tracks; "Go Daddy-O" and "The Boogie Bumper" are kinda fun, and "You & Me & The Bottle Makes 3 Tonight" is spirited. But if you want to listen to some good hot music, pick up either of the Squirrel Nut Zippers' two albums. There's not as much posturing, but there are some songs worth dancing to.

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