Review Summary: Doodaweebopweeohhsheskeebagadadeedopohhdabadoodeedoopdaweeeeee!
I can’t say I deserve to review jazz albums, I barely listen to jazz. Still, Caity deserves a shoutout at the very least for her passionate inspiration. I can say the same about the band members who just
get it. Whether pitter-patter brushwork on the drums, ever-funky bass, or casual solos from the guitarist, impressive is the word. More impressive is delicate playing throughout, and accents are plentiful anyhow. They manage excessive flavour with “simple” guitars and drums.
The spotlight is on Caity here, a true jazz singer. The songwriting and lyrics are quirky and affectionate, and her singing effortless. Scat singing is prolific here, almost too much sometimes, but the skill at work is undeniable. All I can say is Caity deserves a big band, some saxophones, a little extra instrumental pinache to compliment her showgirl energy. This album is rhythmically astute and quite tasteful, but it tends to fade into the background - the scat singing especially.
Still, there’s something delightfully ordinary about the album. The art of showing the singer amongst books feels about right; I can easily imagine her scat style being the highlight at a book store concert. The warm, snug environment of the band’s tender instrumentation also makes for a relaxing visit. Repeated listens are not out of the question, the singer’s unique vocal style mixed with talented instrument players invites a tasty, Sunday afternoon treat. It’s no album for the ages, but it remains for the here and now.
