George Lewis
Jazz Funeral in New Orleans (Tradition 1049)

Reissued in 1997 at the height of the teen Dixieland craze (?), Jazz Funeral in New Orleans is toe-slappin', knee-tappin', banjo-plunkin', geetar-strummin', clarinet-blowin', knicker-showin', ass-stompin', jazz-lovin', finger-lovin', chicken-lickin', piano-pumpin', stump-thumpin', jump-rollin', cigar-burnin', damn-yellin', kid-pokin', dumb-foundin', slack-jawin', yokel-scrubbin', scum-suckin', punch-drinkin', yummylegs New Orleans jazz—as vibrant and bouncy as you could want it and full of that fun lovin' Dixieland spirit.

Perhaps I haven't been descriptive enough? It's hog-tyin', smoke-sausagin', baby-nappin', jump-down-spin-around, pick-a-bale-a'-cottonin' jellyroll fun in the sun.

No wonder I keep winning awards for accuracy and expertise in journalism. Anyway, the disc is exactly what the title implies—a rollicking Dixieland session that captures all the raucous jubilance of a New Orleans funeral.

By 1953, these bands were well past their prime (Lewis had been performing for probably almost forty years by the time this session took place), but the freshness of this performance is truly remarkable. For me, a little Dixieland goes a long way, and this one is about as good a CD as I've found in the genre.

Anyone who could listen to "Ice Cream" without spontaneously breaking into wild tap-dancing and riotous wine-guzzling would have to be an emotionless automaton. "Down By the Riverside," "Burgundy Street Blues," "Just a Closer Walk With Thee," "Doctor Jazz" … all your favorites are here, cooked up in a musical gumbo with lots of extra shrimp! (?)

Probably the only misstep is the version of "When the Saints Go Marching in," in which the band tries to shamelessly rip off Louis Armstrong's hit version—but at least it's not "Hello Dolly."

This is Dixieland for people who like it real gritty and down-home. None of that Pete Fountain crap! (Oh wait, I have never heard any recordings by Pete Fountain.) That fat fuck couldn't blow a hustler, much less a clarinet, with any accuracy!

Goddamn Pete Fountain drains all the soul out of Dixieland—the only good music he was responsible for was the music that got played at his funeral!

(Oh wait, that's right, I've never heard any Pete Fountain recordings, and furthermore, I apparently need more St. John's Wort.)

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Review by Clancy Monocle