Press Reviews

Article Appearing In The Easton Irregular October 2011

Review of The FUZED Quartet at the Lafayette 9/3/11

                                                      Irregular Beats by Mathew Crain

 
Photo by Matt Swenson

            Four months, six days in Easton and the kinfolks said, “Matt, it’s warm, it’s September, it’s Saturday night: forget the Cemetery--go to The Lafayette!”

            What a beautiful black-and-white sign over the door. But don’t let the good penmanship fool you: the letters may read “ Lafayette ” but they say under their breath, No illusion.

            What a smell of popcorn. What antique mirrored beer signs. What red carpet wainscot with flattened beer can border. What an anaglypta ceiling painted puce. What a paltry bunch of cables plugged into my grandmother’s soundboard powering as clean a PA as you’ll ever hear. There were a few empty stools along the wall but not for long, tables were packed, heads nodding, toes and fingers tapping, earrings swinging, everybody grooving with the band set up in front of that big, grey curtain.

            Onstage, the FUZED Quartet was playing “Gingerbread Boy”, the guitar and drums motoring along solid and funky as hell, the bass player like a bear wrecking the hive to get that honey, the sax player soloing and hitting the very center of each note. And then a funny thing happened: the bassist reached over for his glasses on top of his amp but it was too far, and suddenly there was no low end, the bottom fell out of everything, and he had to forget his glasses and seeing the chart on the stand had to play the next note on the downbeat or else, and he did play that note, and that is the sign of a pro. 

            The FUZED Quartet is leader Allan Meyerson (saxes, clarinet, flute), Paul Demarest (guitar), Bernard England (bass), and subbing for Dan McCoach was  drummer Vernon Mobley. That you’d never know this was his first gig with the band shows what pros these guys are. They play all over the Lehigh Valley , (read their interesting bios and listen to clips on their website fuzedjazz.com); standards, funk, blues and any mixture thereof, they can play it. No theatrics. No ballhogging. They’re workmen and what they work on is the tune. There were too many earthy, tell-it-like-it-is moments to list, but what I remember most is how much the clarinet and guitar enjoyed doubling the melody of “Blue Monk” and the crowd found itself singing along, and how the band turned loose on Meyerson’s arrangement of “Summertime”. “We haven’t rehearsed this tune,” he said. “This is going to be an experiment.” There is nothing like hearing inspiration strike a group: someone gets hot and then they all get hot, and you’ve got a fire on your hands. Can anyone explain this? Should we try?

            Three sets, 14 tunes, and 1 encore later (a smoking rendition of “Lester Leaps In”), Meyerson bent down to the mic, thanked us and said good night. The time was 12:19 a.m. Watching musicians break down their instruments always gets me. The snare coming off its stand. The cable pulled out of the amp.

            The sax going back into its case.