Why are you reading this review? If you're a web denizen, you may have come across these written ramblings due to two distinct words: "industrial" and "hardcore." The question is, were you looking for Nine Inch Nails crap or something to do with a blonde, two fake ones and protruding rods? Well folks, instead of that same old-same old, we present...jazz. That's right, playful jazz that pushes West Coast bop and has a flair for ubiquitous horn phrasings. Ready for a bit of enlightenment?
It's probably important to dispel the mystifying words on the CD cover first. There's nothing hardcore or industrial here, but rather five gents who obviously have the keen ability to play off each other's every note and verse. Sounding like Cannonball Adderly himself, the saxophone on "Lucky Duck" quickly applies a memorable chorus, and then delves into a thudding bass solo backed by nothing but a quacking rubber duck. It's most amusing.
Both Dodge and Francis have full-bodied, breathy reed tones that make their respective saxophones blaze a triumphant path of warm notes. However, the other members can easily hold their own, rounding out the quintet's sound with bold percussive hits and lush rhythms. As a matter of fact, every track on Hardcore combines the time-tested excellence of tasty bop with the excitement of each musician's contemporary reshaping of this rich genre. Whether you're a longtime fan of bop or are trying to become acquainted with its intricate nuances, Hardcore is a great aural guide. What's refreshing about the IJG is its youthful vigor -- this isn't the zillionth release by a bunch of jazz dinosaurs trying to eke out some semblance of their prime. Rather, tracks like "The Man in the Godzilla Suit" and "Skeeter Goes Legit" attack pop culture and refurbish it with aerodynamic bass lines and saxophone chops that move deftly from squawking noise to sanguine beauty.
Ultimately, the IJG's mixture of classical jazz with edgy bits of post-Braxton experimentation will win over the old-schoolers as well as those seeking something a bit left of the tired status quo. Whether it's Francis' frantic flute notes or Durkin's daring piano pounding, there's a definite sense of camraderie between the instruments, and their interplay is distinctly beautiful. You'd be just as happy checking them out at a sleazy local dive as you'd be having them play at your own wedding!
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