Mr. Mo' Django

>> Swing Dynamique's Mike King gets back to basics

By RUPERT BOTTENBERG

"Frankly, it's nice to have a rest," says Swing Dynamique's Mike King. After 250 gigs a year for four years, King's happy to ease off the septet set-up for a while. He's opting for the stripped-down trio approach, focusing on the music of King's idol, Django Reinhardt.

"It's the music I like best, anyway," he says. "The bigger band thing, that was more taking advantage of the lounge boom, but that's not where my heart is. Besides, Swing Dynamique started out as a Django Reinhardt cover band."

"Django who?" goes the peanut gallery. Django Reinhardt, kids, the Belgian-born gypsy who would come to be regarded as arguably the best guitarist in pre-war jazz--in spite of a terrible injury that left him two fingers short on his left hand.

"In '28 he was living in Paris and had just signed on with English bandleader Jack Hilton, at 18," says King, "when he had the famous fire in his caravan. His girlfriend had made all these cellophane flowers, and he was carrying a candle to light his way to bed when the wick fell off. The flowers burst into flame. He tried to shield himself with a blanket, but he was badly burnt, especially the back of his hand. He was rushed to the hospital but, being a gypsy, had trouble getting quality medical care."

After 18 months of recovery, Django came back better than ever. His guitar technique was amazing, and his gypsy folk-music heritage gave him a unique sound. In '34, he started playing with violinist Stephane Grappelli, and things really got rolling. "They were becoming international stars, outselling Tom Mix, the cowboy star, at the London Palladium. But then the war hit."

Grappelli split for the U.K., but Django couldn't bear to part with his family in Paris, even if it meant living as a gypsy in Nazi-occupied France. "Actually, that's when he really started composing. He was forced to do his own thing. But after the war, his star was on the wane. That's partly because of rumours, tar-and-feathering him as a collaborator, but it's mostly because by that time bop was king. He was very much associated with swing, and that was kind of old hat by that point."

Still, Reinhardt had a rep as one of the best guitarists in the world. Duke Ellington brought him to North America, but Django, being the capricious sort, failed to respect the particulars of his engagements. This didn't endear him to critics, audiences or the industry. Ah, fuck 'em--Django didn't like the States much either.

Sadly, just as things were looking up again, in spring of '53, Django had a fatal stroke en route to his suburban home outside of Paris. "He's still unsurpassed," sighs King. "Even the guys brought up in the post-Django tradition, olympic-calibre guitarists, still don't have the soul married with the technique."

That said, why would King in his right mind tackle Reinhardt's oeuvre? "I've been doing it for 15 years, so it's not so hard physically. The real challenge is finding other musicians who aren't intimidated by it--like I guess I used to be." :

At Upstairs on Sunday, March 19, 8pm, $5, and at Barfly on Fridays March 17 and 24, 10pm--payment via "pass the hat"