Thursday, November 13, 1997
‘Daddies’ set Billboard astir
MUSIC:
’40s-esque band dazzles young crowd with zesty performanceBy
Vanessa VanderZanden
Daily Bruin Staff
They were heatin’ it up, all tender-tight like smooth cats in a
juke joint, slappin’ down those voodoo tunes. That’s right, they
were playin’ it all fiery and witchy-like, with the sultry air
slurpin’ down their zoot-suited backs. Infectin’ souls right and
left into wrigglin’ fits, the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies consumed
Billboard Live last Friday night.
In a zesty performance that brought together both teen-aged
swing kids and twentysomethings in search of a "new" sound, the
Daddies shook the house with their eight-piece band of horns and
strings, keyboards and drums. But the Daddies were playin’ it cool,
leaving the rest of their 17 additional musicians, who helped out
on their latest album, "Zoot Suit Riot," at home.
Still, the darkly-laced,depth-filled lyrics of the big band’s
whirlwind tunes proved more than sufficient means for swingin’
one’s dancing legs.
Setting the mood and establishing the era for the ’40s-esque
group, the lights dimmed and the Frank Sinatra song "Come Fly With
Me" filled the room. Soon, the two sax players and trumpet
player/trombonist chicly stepped to their front corner place,
wearing matching decadent burgundy velvet smoking jackets with
black lined collars. And as the tall, silent, tough-man keyboardist
set up at the back of the stage, cigarette dangling from his lips,
lead singer Steve Perry leaped gingerly as a cartoon wolf to the
front of the cramped stage.
Perry’s entire aura proved the most intoxicating stimulant of
the entire shimmy-shangle, shack-shaking evening. With a slender
body with gumby-like flexibilities, even allowing him to break into
the splits at times, and a transposable expression-filled face,
grinning like the devil or a cherubic, mischievous tyke, Perry
never failed to fascinate. Inexhaustibly dancing chicken-like to
the bopping toe-turning rhythms, sweat freely fell from the brow of
Perry’s wide-brimmed yellow hat to his matching suit and demon-red
shirt.
From one fiendish song to the next, Perry’s consciously naughty
persona exuded all the wit and charm of the slick pieces being
flawlessly performed. And Billboard’s sound crew did their job, for
the most part, providing amplifier levels fine-tuned enough so
every line of Perry’s sinister lyrics could be made out from the
singer’s well-elocutioned lips. Dealing with topics ranging from a
whisky-swilling father to a pool shark, the Daddies brought the
crammed room to the seedy side of the 1940s.
By the time Perry began playing the seductive and over-the-top
performer for the heavily sexually innuendoed song "Here Comes the
Snake," he had the room of swooning hair-netted and bobby-socked
girls blushing. Yet what was most intriguing about the act was that
it moved seamlessly from swing to ska to punk, as the singer threw
off his stiff hat and jacket, all without the audience’s awareness.
Before anyone knew it, the keyboardist stepped aside as the guitars
furiously strummed and Perry grabbed the microphone to passionately
belt out lyrics to an Operation Ivy song. Strangely enough, the
suited performer, with black spiky sweat-caked hair, fit the role
of punk singer just as well as he had quasi-respectable big band
leader, as he smoothly slipped right into the piano-based old
saloon song "Mister White Keys."
By the time the band finished its hour and 15-minute set,
transforming the dark, industrial-metal-garnished club into a
colorful scene of large-sounding music and ceaseless twirling
bodies, Perry had to have danced the equivalent mileage of a
marathon runner. Yet, the spritely, jovial musician would never let
fans know it, enthusiastically bringing his band back to the
limelight for another two songs during the encore with tireless
zeal. When the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies finally left the stage, fans
flooded the merchandise selling booths downstairs, prepared to
spend oodles on the recorded version of the music that only
partially captures the evening’s mood.