A Decade Of Aces: Part Eight '12

This is the Eighth in a series of historical retrospectives on the Southside Aces, in celebration of their tenth anniversary.

We began 2012 with a changing of the guard. Andy put in his notice. If these trumpet men were actual guards, and the Decade of Aces was the night watch, Zack drew the first two hours, tried to get some sleep for the next four hours while Andy peered over the wild jazz frontier, and finally returned to duty. I would be dishonest if I said that in the end Andy and I had no differences, that the situation was as cheery and flip, crisp and clean as the above analogy suggests. But we are peaceful and reasonable men, and managed to come to the conclusion of this chapter without fisticuffs…even though he is from Wisconsin.

He served the rest of his time with two shows. The first was at the Eagles on January 12^th. We featured the music of Duke Ellington that night. Some of my favorites in our repertoire, including “The Mooche,” “Stevedore Stomp,” and... 

 “Five O’Clock Drag.”

Before the show, a dancer who had never seen us, and wished to know what kind of music we played had approached me. I thought I had given a good explanation, but then he asked, “Well, tell me this: do you perform polkas?” I dryly replied, “The New Orleans repertoire is not famous for its polkas.” He persisted for several minutes, “But could you play a polka?” Eventually I smiled and explained we might be able to provide a “New Orleans polka.” Later, I called “Moulin a Café,” and the band tried to create a polka feel with this nineteenth century ragtime. I think it created more doubtful expressions than a polka feel.

Zack was on the Famous Dave’s in January, but Andy did his last shows with us at the Ritz Theater in February, for the Fifth Annual Best of Midwest Burlesk. The headliner that year was a woman from New Orleans, Perle Noire, who featured a Josephine Baker act. 

I often commented how my work to pay ratio on those shows would have made the union wince, but I also liked to say, “It’s a burlesque house, not a coalmine!” I really enjoyed the sense of accomplishment I got from these shows, but a last-minute request from a performer sometimes required a reality check. This was my somewhat labored analogy: “Asking me to write out a full band arrangement of a Prince tune the night before the show would be like me asking you, in the same amount of time, to assemble a Statue of Liberty costume by stitching together two thousand Mr. Yuck stickers.” 

  

I think you could make the colors work.

One of my favorite memories from that year was backing up a singer named Big Mama Red on a old New Orleans dance band tune, “Mama’s Gone, Goodbye.” She knew how to belt ‘em! We also unveiled my arrangement of “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. But what has to stand out for the band was our own unveiling! Four acts into the last show, we ditched our trademark black suits to reveal full red Union suits beneath! This went over well, I can tell you. I've always wondered why Andy kept his black dress shoes on. In case of fire? We wore our red union suits beneath our suit coats at the cast party later. Something Jelly Roll Morton would have called “Shootin’ the agate.”

What a cast! As you can see, Union Suits provide flexibility in your wardrobe.

Kriss Abigail Photography 

Lundi Gras at Famous Dave’s included Charlie DeVore working with us and producing his famous “Tiger Rag.” After “When My Dreamboat Comes Home,” which begins with ten bars of Bb, Erik said, “Dang! That’s a long time on one chord!” Robert said, “Like a desert!” Erik, “Yeah. I kept seeing mirages making me think the next chord was coming!” And two jobs for the Aces the following day made sure we celebrated Mardi Gras right. 

It bears repeating. I walked into the Eagles of a March evening to set up our stage, and hear this inquiry coming from the bar—“Hey, Rick! What was that that shot my dad’s finger off?” With that proof of place, I prepared for an evening featuring the music of the Hall Brothers Jazz Band, with Charlie DeVore leading the proceedings. See my blog of that time, The Lineage Of Inspiration, for the whole story. 

At Famous Dave’s, Erik let loose a sentence that was probably a historical first. “Now we’re going to play a Duke Ellington song followed by a Lady Gaga song.” The Lady Gaga garnered us a new friend, a young woman who said, “I basically have two things on my ipod, Big Band and Lady Gaga.” It was a good night, but the music booker at the Big Barn of Baby Back had told us he wanted “to shake things up a bit,” so we weren’t offered another show until deep into the summer. We were a bit miffed after three years of history, so turned down the belated offer. At 11:03 that night we began what I'm choosing to call our leave of absence.  

In April, we went into the Social Dance Studio on 38^th Street and 23^rd Avenue. Terry Gardner of TC Swing had offered us the First Saturday Dance. This was the one where Erik couldn’t wait to get home to eat, so he ordered a pizza delivered while were on the bandstand. Once he was nourished, he was able to drop yet another unbelievable introduction to Robert’s version of “Sweet Sue.” “Half and half poured over perfectly ripe peaches. It’s a warm, rainy night with the windows open. Clean, white sheets. Satin! And Robert Bell stretched out naked! That’s what this song sounds like!” Everyone in the room was either laughing, or uncomfortable, or both.

Dreamy!

April Eagles bring Louis Armstrong flowers. We started the feature with “West End Blues.” Zack planted his flag on the peak of that particular Armstrong mountain. We ended the set with “Mahogany Hall Stomp,” Zack holding the chorus of high Bb with the mute in! Another peak scaled for the French Tickler. In between, Dave McCurdy, subbing for Robert, sang his beautiful “What A Wonderful World,” and Zack finished the night with a vocal on “When It’s Sleepy Time Down South.”  And it was around this time Erik began raffling off “A hug from the sousaphone player.” What a night!

The Eagles seems to always provide high moments of music and comedy. In May, six minutes before our feature on Jimmie Noone was to start, I was the only member of the band in the house. I opened the stage door and peered out into the parking lot. It was there I spotted Erik in jeans and a tee shirt helping Dave load firewood from the back of Dave’s Checker Cab to Erik’s trunk. It was a new one on this bandleader, but long years experiencing my band’s relationships with clocks allowed me to merely nod philosophically and say to myself, "Why wouldn't they be doing that right now?" Miraculously, nine minutes later (only three minutes late!) we started the show with everyone suited up. We played great Jimmie Noone tunes, including one new to our book, “Japansy.” 

All six of us played a great job overlooking the pit of the Grain Exchange in May, where we were well paid and given free whiskey. Four of us played for that swanky affair, Retrorama, at the Minnesota Historical Society again. They put us in the same third floor, marbled corner next to the elevator as the year previous. If we continue to do this job every year until we shuffle off the mortal coil it will become known as “The Southside Aces Memorial Nook.” 

We also played the late show at the Dakota Memorial Day weekend. They were using us to lure over some of the Preservation Hall guys after their show at Orchestra Hall. It worked! A good handful did come over, and it was a memorable evening. Evan Christopher and Irvin Mayfield and others sat in with the band for a fantastic night of music that didn’t end until 2:30, late by Dakota standards. We spun together a version of “Just A Closer Walk With Thee” that came in at sixteen minutes! Normally my warning klaxons go off when a song heads north of SIX minutes, but I didn’t feel nervous for a second. 

Just A Closer Walk With Thee

Irving Berlin was featured at the Eagles on National Bourbon Day in June. I wasn’t going to have us play one of Berlin’s biggest hits, “God Bless America,” on account of how he wrote one or two other hits, until I realized it was also Flag Day. Erik kept calling it, “National Buy The Sousaphone Player A Bourbon Day.” We raffled off kosher foodstuffs. Chuck Sweningsen won the hug from the sousaphone player. After he uncomfortably accepted Erik’s hug, we gave him one of our CDs to avoid a lawsuit. 

Earlier in the year, when I had asked the owner of Humans Win! studio what he thought about having the Aces in to record some Christmas tunes, he replied, “What could be better than a New Orleans Christmas album recorded in the middle of summer by an atheist Jew engineer?” So there we were on June 27^th, at the start of a heat wave. I’m sure folk in southern climes are accustomed to accompanying their Noels with dripping sweat, but it’s a bit surreal for we Northern Men. I had a great time with this project. From a rollicking brass band version of “Deck The Hall,” to our hot swing version of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” to brand new originals—one by me and Erik and one by Claudia and Randi—to songs I called my “Christmas Postcard Arrangements.” These were the ones I fully arranged, with very little, if any soloing. In the studio one night we were recording one of those when Robert asked if he should put a flourish at the end. Zack called out, “Yeah, Robert! You put the stamp on that postcard! Lick that stamp!” We put a Rick Rexroth-sung version of “Away In The Manger” on there, which included a sousaphone introduction. Steve said, “I’ll never be able to look at a Nativity scene again without seeing a sousaphone in the manger.”  

An extremely hot July 3^rd evening found we men of the Aces on the hill behind the Minnesota Historical Society to kick off their Nine Nights of Music series. At the Eagles I presented an arcane and scholarly feature—Songs of the Public Domain! If I’d have had a logo made for that night, it would have been an image of an index finger pushing eyeglasses up the bridge of a nose, in the international sign language for “Nerd.” We had half Bill Evans band—Bill, Charlie DeVore and Dave McCurdy—and half Aces. 

Later in the month, we had the joy of participating in a chautauqua! “Drinking The River” featured us along with an historian who spoke of the brewing history along the Mississippi, a presentation by a waste treatment scientist, a singing Park Ranger and some dude in fur trapper attire. I want you to contemplate for a moment what kind of twists and turns your life would have to take in order to find yourself in the position to make some of your livelihood by slipping into your fur trapper get-up. 

Band on Boat

Fur Trapper on Boat

For our August Eagles, we brought in special guest Henry Blackburn on soprano saxophone, alto and clarinet to feature the incredible music of Sidney Bechet. It was a wonderful night, and a lot of people saw it, one of whom went home with a raffled copy of Bechet’s autobiography, Treat It Gentle. Bechet’s famous “Petite Fleur” and “Si Tu Vois Ma Mere,” were dished up along with “Promenade aux Champs Elysees” and “Moulin a Café.” Henry is fluent in French. Because of all those Bechet compositions with French titles, I joked how Henry was there to judge my pronunciations. “So here we go with the next one,” I paused, “Passport To Paradise.” I looked to Henry for approval, “How was that?” He considered for a moment, “Not bad,” he nodded. Steve chimed in, “What does that mean in English?”

A sultry day on the berm at Abbott produced some lazy tempos to go along with the heat. Zack reminded Erik that Erik owed him twenty dollars, which had been going on for some time. Erik was without the cash that day, too. We usually stand up for solos and for the last choruses, but in deference to the muggy day, I suggested an alternative. “Some of the New Orleans bands just stand up for last song of the set.” Zack said, “I’m in. If some guys did it once in New Orleans, I’ll do it.” Erik saw an opportunity, “Once, in New Orleans, there was this guy who said I didn’t have to pay him the twenty dollars I owed him.” 

September at the Eagles was dedicated to the Gershwins. The raffle prizes included “Potahtoes” and “Tomahtoes” to go along with the tune, “Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off.” This is also where we had a post-show photo shoot for the upcoming Christmas album. If any of you have a copy, you’ve seen the inside cover. Well, here’s one of the rejected photos from that night. If you look closely, Erik just let loose the punch line of a joke I can only tell you in private.

September brought us to Hastings for a wedding and to St. Paul for the second annual Oysterfest at Meritage. Erik gave the crowd a begging story. “I can tell you that the sousaphone player has been able to make it through some hard times with oysters.” Sure enough, trays of oysters began appearing. Later, after I worked myself into a lather on “St. Phillip Street Breakdown,” Erik told the crowd, “The clarinetist keeps his strength up with oyster stout!” Within a few minutes, I looked down to see three cups of the briny brew at my feet. Later, when Erik announce that we were flown in from Minneapolis, the stogie-smoking mayor of St. Paul, Chris Coleman, and his cohorts booed us! He definitely has pride of city. He turned it into cheers when Erik attempted to mollify him by announcing that Dave hailed from Osceola Avenue in St. Paul. This event is tops on my Aces calendar, and Erik will also testify to his overwhelming approval. Anyone reading this ought to plan on seeing us down on St. Peter Street this year!

In October, we played a Foodie Night at the Dakota. Andrew “Diz” Gillespie subbed for Dave. Diz had just completed the Twin Cities Marathon the day before, and said he was sore, but ready to play. “As long as I don’t have to climb stairs,” he informed me. I pointed backstage, “You have to climb two of them to get up there.” Adopting an expression as though seriously assessing the situation, he said, “I better call in a sub.” 

The Eagles was the site of our celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of Preservation Hall with all of that music that came out of there. Erik’s first announcement of the night was, “Robert would like everyone to know that the banana is one of the world’s first Super Foods.” This caused me to look over my shoulder at the back line. And there it was, a half-peeled banana resting on Robert’s amp. The raffle included French Market Coffee and Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning, and actual record albums of Preservation Hall I had dug up at Hymie’s Records on Lake Street. 

Special guests two months in a row! Charlie DeVore appeared at the Eagles with us in November so that we might purvey the wares of King Oliver. Possessive tunes like “Buddy’s Habits,” and “Mabel’s Dream.” Wheelhouse tunes like “Canal Street Blues” and “Dippermouth Blues.” We had an actual meat raffle that night. Chicago hot dogs with sweet and hot peppers, in order that the winner could, as Erik said, “make your own Maxwell Street dogs and invite me over!” We may or may not have procured a rye on the rocks from Royal at the bar, and raffled that off as well! The raffle for the hug from the sousaphone player included Erik’s ever more refined declaimers: “I promise to keep my eyes open,” he said. “Now if you’re uncomfortable with the hug, we can make arrangements. Or you can just not raise your hand if your number is called.” Charlie’s grandson Noah won. He tore up the ticket and threw it in the air like confetti, and raised his arms in the air in victory as he and Erik walk toward one another on the dance floor. A huge hug commenced, and Erik told the crowd, “I’d suggest getting a hug from Noah if you need it. He’s a good hugger.” 

So the last time the Aces met in 2012 was December 13^th when we released Santaphone, our first Christmas album. 

If we see our way to a 20^th Anniversary, we’ll probably release our second one by then. The Beaujolais Sisters, Nadine Dubois, Maud Hixson, Rick Rexroth, Charlie DeVore made for a ton of special guests. I had even hired Mike Mello to play sousaphone for the title tune. Bob, the raffle ticket dispenser for the Eagles, approached Henry’s table before the show and said, “Hang on to your tickets now, because you ladies can win a spanking from me.” This caused the expected discomfort from the women to whom he was speaking, and no end of amusement out of Henry. 

When Dave launched the drum introduction to “Happy Feet Blues,” Erik’s toddler son shot out on the floor as if from a pitching machine that catapults two and a half year olds! He couldn’t help himself. He was dancing, throwing his arms up, laughing—Dave’s drumming was an electric wire to his heart. I saw him and I never felt so joyous playing that song. Charlie’s present to the assembled was a sixteen bar chicken cluck vocal during “Winter Wonderland,” and our present was a loaded raffle. A candy cane of Hershey’s Kisses, a set of actual candy canes, the Lifesavers Memory Storybook, Christmas Jello molds, eggnog, and four signed CD release posters with the Aces in their Union Suits. Christmas booty!

The album was called Santaphone after the tune Erik and I wrote about Christmas procrastination miracles. I know it isn’t Christmas, but you can feel how we felt putting it all together in the summertime if you give it a listen right now! Plus, Claudia made a cool video.

Listen! Watch!

A Decade Of Aces: Part Four '08

This is the Fourth in a series of historical retrospectives on the Southside Aces, in celebration of their tenth anniversary.

Early in January of 2008, we went into the Ritz Theater up near 13^th and University for the first annual Best of Midwest Burlesk, or “B.O.M.B.,” as it is affectionately called. Our friends at Lili’s Burlesque Revue produced this show, bringing in performers from all around the region. This would be the first of a five-year run for the festival, all five of which we served as house band. We always had the best seats in the house, set up as we were on stage left. That first year, we strode out and started the whole shebang playing “Back To Black” by Amy Winehouse. It set the tone for a great night. This was a show that was very much vaudevillian in it’s variety. This first year brought to the stage a juggler, a tap dancer, another doing bullwhip stunts, and yet another named Ned The Magnificent who performed acrobatics on a two-wheel dolly. The Meteor Boys were a pair of singers who accompanied themselves on ukuleles. Karen Vieno Paurus was Lili’s official chanteuse, bringing her vocal talents into the fray. All of us brought together by the hostess and M.C. nonpareil, Nadine Dubois. Then, of course, there were the dancers.

Best Seats In The House (the rest of the band is tucked around the curtain)

I love burlesque. Before you start accusing me of being the hound dog that I am, let me explain. It’s not merely disrobing that makes for good burlesque. Anyone can take off his or her clothes. I do nearly every time I take a shower. The best in my view combine deep senses of humor and a real cleverness on the Path to Pasties. They tell a story. And some, I believe, can achieve high art. I actually believe that with a straight face. I don’t have the space here to give the play by play on all the performers from that year, so I will confine myself to the headliner, Chicago’s own “Michelle L’amour.”

After her introduction, an orchestral version of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” began. She appeared adorned in a huge pair of white-feathered wings. The Debussy combined with her ballet gracefulness and gorgeous form made for a truly beautiful moment. We were astounded, and our jaws dropped. Afterwards backstage, her manager/assistant/boyfriend smiled at me and commented, “It looked as though the band really enjoyed her performance.” I said, “Yes. If she had come any closer with those wings, we would have all had feathers in our mouths.”

Click on this link to see ninety seconds of the best clips of that year. Remember, this will be slightly naughty, just so you know! 

Best Of Midwest Burlesk

In January we continued our appearances at the Nomad World Pub, Chateau Lamothe, and Ferdinand’s Jazz Palace. February brought us out to St. Croix Casino to perform at a Mardi Gras party for the slot-zombies. We had a good show at the Times on the 16^th on the night after being fired from Chateau Lamothe. No story there, we just couldn’t make a go of it south of the river, so Doris and we said goodbye. We flew out to Denver on Leap Year to play the Rocky Mountain Balboa Blowout. We’re a territory band! That’s the one when Steve threatened to get a tramp stamp tattoo that read “Balboa Blowout ’08.” For some reason, it’s the fact that he would put the year in the tattoo that made me laugh the hardest. On April Fools Day, we played a house party in a kitchen with all the walls torn out for remodeling after a three-story flooding. We were warned to not go too close to the wiring. I missed the April Nomad, being down in New Orleans and all, but got back home in time to make it to the Times on April 18^th. Some goings on from that night:

Steve had lost his plunger mute, so he was working with a mixed nuts can instead. Between songs, I butted in on the mic, commenting to the crowd about how good music could be made from roasted nuts. Erik continued, “Speaking of roasted nuts, we’re going to have Robert sing this next one. It’s a sweet, sweet song.” Robert’s rendering of “Sweet Sue” is a fine thing. Erik went on, “His voice is like cream mixed with vanilla mixed with butterscotch. It’s like having your Lucky Charms on top of your Trix!” 

A week later we played with the Edina High School Jazz Ensemble I for a Twin Cities Jazz Society concert. The next day we played a benefit for a Montessori school. The woman who hired us hailed from Dallas, and was very familiar with Louisiana music. It’s nice when the people who hire you understand what you do. Lisa Ann, who introduced herself and said, “Two names, just like everyone from Texas,” was proud of her ability to throw a party. She told us about the meeting she had to decide upon music. “I suggested zydeco, but the rest of them didn’t even know what that meant. So I said, ‘How ‘bout Dixieland?’ and they at least recognized that word.”

In June another appearance at the Times; we sure did like playing there! In July a trio of Aces were hired for a backyard party. Sort of an odd trio. The people wanted clarinet and brass, but only wanted three. Erik couldn’t make it, so Steve moved over to the sousaphone chair, and I hired Scott Moriarity to play trombone. Scott is a fantastic trombonist with a career as a lawyer. During the party that night, I heard one of the most mysterious sentences I’ve ever heard. To this day, I’ve not received an explanation. While on break, Steve set his sousaphone down. We stood around it drinking our beers and a woman walked up to take our pictures. The photographer paused for a few seconds, looking down at the coils of brass contrasting with the green grass, and said, “A lot of lesbians like sousaphones.” 

Huh? 

Later, Scott said to me, “I don’t know why, but I wanted to call it a euphonium for some reason.” Sticking to the non sequitur theme of the evening, I said, “It’s because you’re a lawyer.”

After working on it for a month or so, Andy finally produced what became a pretty glorious handlebar mustache. It was out at the Twin Cities Balboa Fest held at the Mermaid that we finally began tossing around nicknames for him. My two favorites were Claudia’s contribution, “The Roughrider,” after Teddy Roosevelt, and the baseball connection, “Rollie Fingers,” after the famous Oakland A’s and Milwaukee Brewers pitcher. Hakala is a Finnish name, so I once introduced him off the stage at the Nomad as, “Rollie Fingers on trumpet, from the Finnish side of the Fingers family.” Fingers Hakala!

Look at this great picture of Andy in the Aces by photographer Ben Hejkal  then one of a Rollie Fingers card. Heh? See what I mean?

This brings up the subject of band nicknames. Early on, Erik began introducing me as “the secret weapon of the band, Tony Balluff.” Eventually it was shortened to, “and the Secret Weapon on clarinet.” The origin of such a dramatic-sounding nickname, and the name of this blog, may disappoint in terms of dramatic content. It just kept happening that someone would suggest we put such and such song in the repertoire, and I would respond, “Oh. I have sheet music for that.” Or, “I have that recording.” Or I would know some jazz history fact when someone had a jazz history question. It so happens I’m a fairly decent jazz nerd, with potential for growth. Anyway, this occurred enough times in a row that Erik said in a rehearsal once, “You’re like our secret weapon!” So there. Mystery revealed. The only drama that happened around the name was during one of our earliest appearances at the Times. This was when the stage was still facing the river instead of Hennepin Avenue. It was last song of the night, and up to that point I may have imbibed one or three whiskeys. Erik had the effrontery to merely introduce me as, “Tony Balluff on clarinet.” I whirled on him and shouted, “I’s Secret Weapon!!” Fermented beverages sure can wreak havoc on a fella’s grammar. 

For reasons we won’t get into, Zack was briefly called “The Reprobate.” I guess because every band has to have at least one. Erik often introduces Steve as, “Psycho Stevie, the Prince Of East Lake Street.” Steve is neither psycho nor a prince, but he does live on East Lake. Dave has always been called “The Moral Compass.” I guess because every band has to have at least one. We like to say Robert is “Mr. Class,” because if you took all the gigs we’ve been on together over the past decade, he probably has all of us beat by twenty or thirty percentage points in how often he wore a suit to the job. Erik has been called “Big Man” on account of his height, and “Big Delicious,” from the previously mentioned Tom Surowicz paragraph on the band. He also once gained the moniker, “The Swedish Mink” due to a mix of his heritage and an incident with a family heirloom. A couple of years ago he impressed a New Orleanian stranger with his dancing at the Maple Leaf, and the guy said something like, “Nice moves, Sweet Shoes.” 

And you wondered why we called him “The Reprobate.”

Erik brought farmers market corn on the cob to the August Nomad. At one point he walked around the patio calling out, “Toothpicks! One dollar! The corn is free, but Southside Aces toothpicks are a dollar!” An African man who spoke with a Zimbabwe accent sat at a table by himself that day repeating the phrase, “Drink like a fish!” Even when I shook his hand and introduced myself, all he would say is, “Drink like a fish!” Whether it was advice, a mantra or commentary, I never was able to find out. 

On September 20^th, we went back to Omaha for our first Cowtown Jamborama. I love going to Omaha (see my story about the Naughty Lounge from A Decade Of Aces: Part Three). Nate Woodhams is a swell host. The Jamborama is a weekend that includes a man in a cow costume and a corn-eating contest. Bill Butler got himself involved with both one year. It led to a trip to the E.R., but I'll let him tell you whether it was the costume or the corn. A great time was had, both in the Eagles, Aerie #18 and the after hours joint, Studio 906, where we played until around four in the morning! That’s a lot of numbers in one sentence! This art gallery used to be an auto garage of some sort, and there were a lot of art cars in the driveway. My favorite car out there, however, was the ’49 Packard hearse that had a built-in 78 player in the glove box, complete with a record of “Old Rugged Cross.” One last memory from that night was when, during the last set, I leaned forward in the middle of a song to hand a solo off to Steve, but he was asleep in his chair! I don’t know why he had such low energy after six hours of travel and six hours of playing.

The October Nomad was one of those rare times when it exceeded the ideal of what it was supposed to be. Preservation Hall was in town, and Henry Blackburn managed to convince a couple of them to come over and play with us after their show at Orchestra Hall. Erik introduced our show by saying, “Please help yourself to what Claudia calls ‘The Pasta.’ Now, we’re going to play what we call ‘The Jazz.’” Ben Jaffe played some sousaphone, and Mark Braud some trumpet. I remember Mark killing us with his version of “Bogalusa Strut.” When they were done, our locals stepped up. Among others, a tenor man, Sam Brooks, stepped up on stage with us after saying, “Don’t you guys laugh at me; I only play rock and funk.” But he wailed away on our brass band stuff. Local crooner Randall Throckmorton sweetened the hot on “Stardust.” Mike Mello also played some sousaphone that day, and a drummer named Batumé lent a nice shuffle beat to a few tunes. Good pasta, good jam.

Our November Nomad was significant not for Erik bringing brats without buns (he left during set break to forage for some), but for two pairs of reasons. A couple of newer barkeeps at the Nomad really loved what we were doing. Bill’s father played trombone, and Rashad actually hailed from New Orleans. He said we made him homesick. Now that’s a compliment! Speaking of Bills, Bill Butler and his dad, Dan, both had birthdays to celebrate. We forced beer bottle solos on the two of them. Well, not on Bill. He’ll do anything. But his dad took some convincing. Birthdays and homesickness. The Aces do our best.

Who’s that happy band against the Nomad patio wall?

Church basements are used for a wide spectrum of functions. At least that's the excuse Zack offered! In December we played for a funeral, with Zack subbing back in for Andy. In the program we were listed as “Southside Acres.” That sounds like a band that would play for funerals. The son of the deceased apologized afterwards as we stood downstairs in the middle of the luncheon. We waved it off, of course, and Erik said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Zack watched the son walk away until he was out of earshot, shook his head and said, “I’m such an idiot! I was this close,” gesturing with the traditional thumb and index finger an inch apart, “to saying ‘Congratulations!’”

The Nomad is truly the source of some of the best quotes in our history. Something about the West Bank can bring it out in people. While there in December, two great friends of the band provided us with this little bit of history. After we played “White Christmas,” Mary told me later, “That was the best version I’ve ever heard! It was sweet and melancholy. It had some pain in it. It belonged in a place like this. It was like you were playing it for a cross between Holiday Inn and They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” Wow. I also was able to collect this nugget. Chuck emerged from the men’s room and exclaimed, “I love this place! You get to pee on bar ice!” At the Nomad, the men’s room is equipped with a porcelain trough about four feet long that’s usually filled with ice. “I want one of those at home!” he finished. I advised, for the sake of his marriage, against any hasty remodeling.

Before the end of the year, the Aces managed to squeeze in one more first. On December 22^nd, we played at Famous Dave’s in Uptown for the Monday Dance. We play there to this day, although we took a break through most of 2012. This is once again a job we got on referral from Bill and Shannon Butler. I guess we’re going to have to put them on retainer one of these decades.