Davell is a piano-playing dude we spied for the first (as yet, only) time up at the Eastcoast Blues and Roots Festival a few years back.
He was hammering at some jaunty New Orleans boogie woogie and got our rears moving in all the right ways. We picked up one album at the time (review to come) that showcased this sound pretty well.
This earlier CD from him explores very different territory. While the cheesy album cover hints at some Fresh Prince/Luther Vandross intersection, this is sadly a very mainstream jazz effort.
I have pretty Philistine leanings when it comes to the skivvy-wearing, beat-poet-invoking world of jazz. Every now and then something takes my fancy, but typically I’m left pretty cold by the preference for musical showboating over entertainment. Also, I like lyrics and the human voice.
This album falls short on all front. Crawford is attempting to reincarnate the B-3 Hammond organ as an instrument, so he squelches out a range of jazz standards, accompanied by some tenor sax of the very blurty, high-end toot-toot variety (I did tell you I was a Philistine).
While the drummer typically does a pretty good job, the tendency of the organ to invoke basketball/ice hockey images makes this a less than relaxing listen.
File under: I can understand why B1 & B2 are a duo
One Album a Day 