Ashley Slater once described his singing as sounding like Andy Williams on acid - but Andy Williams fans (if such a species still exists) would probably not have been shocked by Slater's angle on the crooner's art on Sunday: the bare-skulled bandleader kept surprisingly close to the script.
Slater is a former trombonist with the much-lamented Loose Tubes big band, but he has been as active in music for clubbers as jazzers over the years, particularly in a dynamic collaboration with Norman Cook (aka Fatboy Slim) and Freakpower. This week Slater launched a debut CD for his Big Lounge ensemble, a multinational outfit that plays slinky jazz and spikily creative funk around his own louche vocals.
Slater rarely plays live shows these days. Big Lounge has been going for two years, but the band doesn't often make it to the stage. A little of this unfamiliarity with the heat of the moment showed when the rhythm section shuffled on rather bemusedly, as if waiting for someone who hadn't shown up. And the disjunction between the lazily swooping vocal lines and the chunky forcefulness of the accompaniment was sometimes a little disorientating.
But for the most part the underpinning provided by the elegantly provocative Steve Arguelles on drums, the jackhammer basslines of Christophe "Disco" Minck and pianist Benoit Delbecq kept Slater's show on the boil. Guitarist Alan Weekes, a Slater collaborator from Jazz Jamaica, added vivid colours of his own with the wah-wah.
Slater sang more ballads than might have been expected, and with considerable poignancy at times - particularly on the lilting Private Sunshine. On uptempo funk he varied his themes audaciously, adding in whoops and slurs of embellishment. Meanwhile, the band hinted at the compelling tightness that might follow a little more road-work, pulling together ensemble grooves that suggested a hybrid of legendary 1970s funksters such as the Jazz Crusaders and Sly Stone.
David Slater, Ashley's violinist father, took to the stage for some graceful swing fiddle breaks."What's his name?" a member of the audience asked. Slater gazed back as if mystified.
"Dad," he eventually said, in tones of pitying tolerance.
