Sweet Papa Lowdown -- About the Band

The Current Line-up

Sweet Papa Lowdown's current lineup features Jeff Shucard on guitar and vocals, Rick Van Krugel on mandolin, Kris Bowerman on trombone, and Dan Marcus on sousaphone and bass flugel horn. Dan Marcus has been with me since 1996 when we recorded Lost & Found. Each of these players brings very special gifts to the whole. Dan Marcus, an acknowledged master of all things brass, has been a member of both the Ray Charles and Woody Herman bands. He has performed in over 200 countries. Blues great, John Hammond, has called Rick Van Krugel "the best blues mandolin player working today." Rick has performed with many greats, including Mississippi Fred McDowell and Geoff Muldaur. Kris Bowerman brings thirty years of jazz chops, joy, and savvy to the lineup.
Jeff Shucard

Sweet Papa Lowdown, 2004

A number of years ago I came across a handful of sheet music written by Jimmy Durante in the early 1920s when he had been a young aspiring pianist and band leader in the burdgeoning New York jazz scene. I remember being immediately taken by the surprisingly high quality of these songs when I first played through them. Several of the songs, I felt, were exceptionally beautiful, well written and, best of all, lent themselves easily to my guitar. I immediately wanted to add them to my repertoire. Also, I became intrigued with their author and his own seeming lack of interest in this aspect of his talent – a lead followed, unfortunately, by jazz critics and historians alike. This "unknown" Durante continues to interest me and many questions about his composing career remain unanswered to my satisfation. I still haven't (despite great effort) been able to find all of Durante's published compositions, which would be necessary to conclude my study with, I hope, a comprehensive recording of this music .

At the time I came upon the Durante music I happened to be putting together a new band called Sweet Papa Lowdown (after the tune by Blind Blake). I had been listening carefully to such artists as Ma Rainey, Tampa Red, Little Brother Montgomery, Leroy Carr, and Blind Blake for quite awhile and it seemed to me that all these musicians would have had a ball playing together. (Tampa Red and Blind Blake did, in fact, on separate occasions, record with Ma Rainey.)

This was the kind of band I wanted to have: a jazzy blues ensemble that did not attempt to emulate any particular artist or "sound" but that interpeted the music freely (ain't that what it's all about?) and would, I imagined, put a smile on any of the faces of these original artists if I were able to "channel" it to them. As a musician, I had no desire to pretend to be an old black bluesman from the plantation or to contrive any other inauthentic stage persona as was largely in vogue then. I wanted to play music that, for the most part, transcended the ethnic and the endemic, music that I felt was vital and alive with the joy and sorrow of living.

It took quite a while for me to arrive at the sound I wanted – choosing the right material, finding the right players, tuning my ears to that particular groove I felt I needed to lock into.

Once I felt I had something I felt good about, I began to go out and perform the new ideas in local venues around Vancouver. During that time I also booked two consecutive afternoons in a small recording studio for myself, Jamie Perry and Dan Marcus to come up with a short demo tape to shop around. We weren't trying to do very much in the little bit of time we had, just get a few usable tunes down to pass around to club owners. But in listening to the playbacks we had a feeling that we might have created something special. And apparently we had; remarkably, by the end of the second afternoon we had a recording contract with a small Canadian jazz label and most of what was to become the Lost & Found album. it was that quick and simple – just one take per tune and Mr. Marcus doubling on the lead horn parts.

It was on those two afternoons that we recorded two of the Durante tunes I'd been working on. It seemed to me that these never-recorded, forgotten melodies defined the band's character, something I later described as "post-modern retro-fusion afro-american hokum jazz and blues."

I knew I was way "out there" on a musical limb, so to speak, with Sweet Papa Lowdown. No-one knew quite what to make of the music we played. To the general public and venue owners alike we were far beyond the parameters of anything they had ever heard (or, I suspect, wanted to hear!). The blues crowd were only interested in screaming electric guitars, and the dixieland/trad crowd only wanted to hear "St. Louis Blues" for the three millionth time. No-one was interested in our takes on Georgia Tom Dorsey and Jabbo Smith. But that was fine. I continued to feel we were making good music and I had no desire or interest in changing my stuff.

Still, you can't help but second guess yourself. I began to wonder why I had strayed so very far from the flock. I didn't think of myself as a musical eccentric or obscurist. I certainly didn't open my eyes every morning, rub my hands together gleefully, and start searching for yet more and more jazz obscurencia to further alienate the listening public with. I had just begun to realize that there was a very great wealth of music in the blues and jazz canon that I enjoyed enormously. That this music was being totally ignored was none of my concern. I was an explorer and I loved making new and exciting discoveries. I still do.

Click here to read a 1999 newspaper article about Sweet Papa Lowdown.

Home || Photo Gallery|| Music (demos) || CDs || With Chris Barber || Links