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Jive turkeys >> Will the real swing thing please stand up by RUPERT BOTTENBERG
The Fonz/Richie dichotomy springs from our chat over coffee about the distinct lack of swing displayed by many of the swing revivalists these days. Take the recent Big Bad Voodoo Daddy gig at the Jazz Fest: "It just all seemed a little too clean," says Wolff. "It seemed like the Disneyland version--perfect suit, perfect hat, perfect pants, this expression goes at this point in the song. They didn't have that raw edge. They were great musicians, but my number one criteria is that it's gotta make me--not even me--it's my hips that get up and go ba-ba-boom. The dancefloor's going, 'c'mere, mama!' and I just gotta get up and dance. I didn't feel that. It didn't feel like an authentic '20s black Harlem club, which is where the music comes from. A beautiful exterior, but it didn't have that passion inside." Passion is everything to Wolff and Doc. Not merely a passion for the superficial trappings--the obscure Louis Jordan 78s, tiki mugs and leopard print love seats--though they're guilty as charged in that department. No, it goes deeper than that. It's a love for the true spirit of swing, jump blues and rock 'n' roll. The drinking, cursing, fighting, fucking, dancing, loving, just-plain-going-nuts spirit. In the year and a half or so since Wolff established her jiving classes at Building Danse, they've managed to infect a sizable number of Montrealers with that spirit. The infection is spreading. In September, Wolff and Doc will be heading to sunny California to enlighten the yanks to the ways of the jive. "When I went to the Viva Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Weekender, I met these people who said that in California, they've got the clichéd swing revival. And that's good, because it doesn't matter if it's people who don't really know what they're doing; they're bringing new blood to the scene. "So everybody knows how to do swing out there. It's a yuppie revival made big by schools like Arthur Murray. But nobody knows how to jive out there, although there are a whole two decades worth of inspired music. I'm going to be teaching at a different dance school, festival or club every night for 20 days. It's going to be gruelling." But that's in the fall. In the meantime, we've still got Wolff and Doc to ourselves. And judging by the fact that Wolff's dance classes have doubled in enrolment since a year ago, we seem to appreciate that fact. That enthusiasm should be in full (excuse me) swing this Saturday at Wolff and Doc's monthly Jive Joint soirée. The trappings are all in place: cool bands, a wicked DJ, a '40s-style shutterbug, free dance lessons, karaoke, a jive contest and stylin' second-hand retro threads. But don't sweat the look and all that. Come as you are, because, as the saying goes, it's the spirit that counts. Jive Joint happens at Jailhouse Rock on Saturday, August 1, 9pm, $7. Catfish and Kamikaze Mustang perform, DJ Witchdoctor spins, and the new Squirrel Nut Zippers disc gets its Montreal launch
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Sophia Wolff has had an almost religious revelation. "Jiving is the Fonz," she enthuses. "Jitterbugging is Richie Cunningham!" The Happy Days analogy seems remarkably appropriate, given that Wolff and her partner Doc (aka DJ Witchdoctor) have become the leading lights in Montreal's recent revival of '40s and '50s kid culture. Between dance classes ('50s jiving and '40s jitterbugging), DJ spots and concert promotion, the two have put this town on the retro map.