The One & Nines

The One & Nines. What a great name for a band from New Jersey. Caught their set at Groove on Grove, the last one of the year, last one of the season on the last day of September. The chilly breeze made early Autumn feel like early winter. I couldn’t believe what I heard. The band ran through several STAX influenced numbers and a few actual covers—it’s hard to keep all those Carla Thomas song titles straight but they were in there for sure—and the female lead singer, a raven haired beauty, playing tamborine with a voice that was rich and brassy like the best of the shouters but also smooth, articulate, easily slipping up into and down from high notes like, well... Carla (who note for note is the equal to Aretha voice-wise and Aretha would agree). It’s called Soul music ladies and genetlemen of the jury, and it’s not the kind of thing you hear a lot of these days on the so called soul and R&B stations. The One & Nines follow a tradition that has been sadly forgotten by too many, applying their considerable talent with style, enthusiam and dedication. Pre-Janis Soul, pre-Clinton Funk. The bassist and guitarist were Dunn & Cropper reborn. Sax & keyboard were spot-on. The band could lay down a groove like Booker T & the MGs in their hey-day. Holy cow, a review—or is that, revue! Good thing it was cold, because this kind of music heads to your heart and soul via your hips, vertebrae and hands. You must shimmy, you must clap, you must shake. It makes you want to move! It makes you NEED to move! We are talking unadulerated Gut Bucket and I could not believe I was hearing it above the Mason Dixon line, thousand of miles away from the Delta or Memphis or the Big Easy, much less at Grove Street by what what seemed like a bunch of kids from the Garden State two generations removed from the progenitors of this hallowed sound. They did the music justice. I’m bad with the titles on this post, and what I believe were originals among the set list, which were based on the aforementioned musical traditions, fit in well with a tastly selection of obscure masterpieces. One song about Walking in My Sleep was particuarlly moving, I think it was an original. What a miracle, to hear this bueatiful, timeless music, played so well and genuinely. Then, just as I was ready to kneel in thanksgiving, the soul of STAX was transformed into this truly awesome, kick out the jambs, version of Chuck Berry’s 30 Days. Rocked Out Totally. I thought the arrangement was closer to the Ronnie Hawkins version. The Hawk, in my opinion, does the best version of this under-played Berry anthem. I chatted with the band’s guitarist, who confirmed my impression, and turns out, is a Hawkins afficianodo. The Sax player and keyboard player took some searing solos during the Berry romp. From STAX to pure Rock & Roll, not that easy to manage and back then, unheard of (a few of the great 60s bands might have pulled it off). The One & Nines deftly navigated these shores of the deep, muddy river of American music with a high-level of musicianship and a ragged edge that enchanced the authenticity and genuine appreciation of the tradition they intently revived. The crowd cheered as the autumn teetered towards icy, but the One & Nines formed a hermetically sealed dome around the stage and we were in a back roads juke joint with a broken air conditioner and moonshine whiskey, sweaty and joyously dancing to songs about love—fullfillment, lust & heart break to be sure—but love, nonetheless. They aren’t just students of this material, they aren’t just well-versed in the nuances of these songs. They FEEL this music. THESE CATS CAN PLAY!!!

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