Tap Room Trio:
Grown in a shack of South Jersey woodchips, honed on the workbench of New Hampshire attitude and matured in the kiln of West Philly motivation, Dave Mattock and company have taken what was left of jukebox groove, twisted out the nostalgia, and un-seized the pumping engine of funk lust. 3 years and a lot of sweat went into the production you are now hearing. From NYC to Rehoboth to Nashua, The Tap Room Trio has overdriven their music into all quarters left for dead. Nowhere can their sound be found that isn’t mindful of the whiskey and dirty jokes their followers love. Without the nasty, you’re just hearing lame ass jazz. The Tap Room Trio is NEVER without the nasty.
The duality of the Tap Room Trio is apparent on this drive: two sets, two bands. Such diversity would pull apart the less attuned ensemble but the denominator of Dave Mattock holds together what no man can put asunder. Mattock is the epitome of duality, his hands separate and rejoin on the organ with the finesse and cruelty of opaque lovers fighting in the dark on the other side of the bar, sounds that seem to dance and battle with the purpose of making up, but continue to fight anyway (it makes getting back together that much better.)
Aided first by Matt Smallcomb and Jason Klinke (drums and guitar, respectively) the trio attains intuitive balance, earthy flow and passionate sparring through each selection. They function with the lilt of steeplejacks on a 7-day bender, never looking down, back or up. Always forward.
The second trio: Mattock, Josh Orlando and Greg Kettinger (again, drums and guitar, respectively) choose to surgically eviscerate each selection with the accuracy of blokes shooting Fives, laughing at the cadaver of time and harmony they are using for a foot rail.
Don’t be fooled by The Tap Room Trio name. “Trio” may conjure late night sessions, smoky bars, fedoras, and martinis in hand for the over-romanced, nostalgic, jazz wanna-be. If so, you are in the wrong place, my friend. This is modernity of music, mind, and madness. A cascading flux of funk and soul with the hardcore improv heart of a busy city street – like staring out the window of the express on the El, hundreds of stories whizzing past you - different tales, same moral.
December 5, 2011