I’ve been burning to tell you about this one. On Friday morning, there was a knock at the door of Magnie Mansions. Usually it’s a neighbour telling me I’ve left my keys in the door. But not this time. This was the arrival of something to cherish.
We were mortified we’d not managed to get tix for the Federation of the Disco Pimps album launch, and speculated fervently about when the twelve inches of thick, heavy vinyl would arrive. And there it was. The beginning of something amazing.
Vinyl is pretty much an after hours activity for us, as the turntable is in a place where the little people can access it. A time will come when we can trust them not to rip the arm off, run off with the black stuff cackling manically as they maim and dismember the precious disc. That time is not here, and there was no way we were giving them the chance with this.
“More Than Dancing” hides none of the ambition these fantastic musicians have. It also showcases their profound talent. Before we get into the musical comparisons, there’s a motif I can’t resist going into. On the album cover, the band stands around a floored, faceless fighter in a boxing ring. Writer, keyboardist and driving force Marco sports a cane which looks suspiciously like a three wood, and what can only be described as a mysterious smile.
“Bruce Lee” is a firm favourite, a great live number and no less exciting through the stylus. The album’s promotion has also relied on Muhammad Ali’s great wisdom. Are both of these icons laid out on the canvas? Who knows.
What we can’t help noticing is that the Pimps have greatness in mind. Their aim is surely to be the best in the world. At the very least the best they can possibly be. If the former’s a big claim, and the latter’s for them to decide, I can tell you this much. They’re the best Jazz Funk band I’ve seen come through this century.
The horns are tight, Marco’s keys and guitarist Michael Berrich are tuned right into the groove, the rhythm just keeps on going. I could go on and on, but if you want to find out what they’re like, go and see them. And if you’re not already the proud owner of one of the 200 limited edition albums, get your hands on one.
For now, here’s an unpublished poem of mine, inspired by saxophonist extraordinnaire, Johnny White managing to mop his brow mid note in the Arches as he blew the cobwebs away underneath a cold January Glasgow night. Be prepared to hear more from these guys. They’ll knock you out.
In dat deep
he hed ta haal
his ain air
doon da ancient
he wis kül eneoch
da tap half
o da sax
his drippin broo
half wye trow
flottin a not
fae da tap
o da pile
tae da truth
at nae want
as he set
da nicht ablaze.