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Soul means of ska-munication >> Hepcat know their roots, and the steps to boot by RUPERT BOTTENBERG
My sentiments exactly. Spinning firmly on a soul/ska axis, the band bring in a touch of Latin groove on one side, swingin' jazz on the other. The final product has a distinctly traditional flavour, recalling the glory years of rock steady, the laid-back link between ska and reggae. Hepcat are frequently given sole credit for turning third-wave North American skankers on to the history of Jamaican pop. Desert shows standard-issue humility at this suggestion. "Hey now, that's quite a load," he says. "If people are saying we're partially responsible, that's quite an honour." Humble shrugs aside, the fact is that when Hepcat got started at the turn of the '90s, ska was steering toward distortion pedal crunch and away from its mellow roots. Although not yet even of legal drinking age at the time, Desert and his singing partner Greg Lee already knew that ska was losing its cool. Desert remembers the ska gigs he and Lee would attend. "We'd only get grooving and start dancing after the bands played," he says. "When the DJ would come on and play Skatalites, Prince Buster and all that. It was as bad as going to a show wearing a Walkman." At the same time, what separates Hepcat from many bands that turn a ska gig into a humourless history lesson is a serious injection of Stax-style soul. Drawing a parallel to soul greats Sam and Dave leaves Desert in stitches. "What's funny is, when we started the band, I said, 'Let's be the Sam and Dave of ska!'" Yeah, real funny, but there's a point to be made here. "You listen to (rock steady artists) Ken Boothe or Alton Ellis," he says. "They wanted to be soul singers. But they were mixing in ska and reggae. That's one of the things I keep in my head when I'm writing a song or singing. No matter what it is, it's a soul song. Ska comes from the blues." What really drives home the Sam and Dave analogy is the fancy footwork that Desert and Lee execute for the audience. Desert admits the moves are only semi-choreographed. "Me and Greg won't ever be in a dance studio, going, 'Pliez! Now I want you to do a shuffleball turn! Aaand... position one!' We've never taken the time to do that." It seems the pair pretty much pick their steps up as they go along. "We'll be onstage, and somebody'll be doing something cool, and we'll go, 'Aw,shit, let me do that with you.' And it's developed into a stage show, I guess." As smooth as Desert comes off, that's not how he snagged the role of Charles in Swingers. Turns out he and scriptwriter Jon Favreau are old pals. Their days as out-of-work thespians, trying to maintain a veneer of lounge-hopping stylishness, inspired the film's martini-soaked antics. "Basically, we'd both been going through auditioning hell," recalls Desert, "so finally Johnny just broke down. It took him only two weeks to write that script. He calls me up and goes [affects nasal whiteboy whine], 'Hey, Alex, I wrote a script, and I got a part for you, you wanna do it?'" He did. The flick was a smash, though Oscar Night will have to wait a while. For the time being, Hepcat takes priority, and that's good news for skankaholics everywhere. With the Slackers and the Gadjits at Cabaret, Tuesday, Feb. 24. 8:30pm, $11-$13
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Take a look at the photo on the right. Does the dude in the black leather Shaft coat look familiar? Ska fans will identify Alex Desert as one of the two frontmen for L.A.'s primo old school unit Hepcat. Film buffs, on the other hand, will recognize him from his role in the swanky testosteropus Swingers. "It's amazing," says Desert, "I moved to L.A. to become an actor. Then Hepcat just happened--and god bless every minute of it."