JC Brooks & The Uptown Sound, gracing us at El Corazon this coming Friday night, don’t have their own Wikipedia entry yet.  Good.  Means I can make up any damn thing I want and get away with it, which is always a good feeling.  Heck, I could say they came from Area 51 and somebody out there might believe me.

I tried a track at random and okay, they don’t come from Area 51. But they’ve got people dancing again.  Actually, they’ve got people dancing still, but dancing is an endangered species as I type this (seated).  Don’t believe me?  Stick your head out the window.  (Just for a second, I punched up the weather report.)  See any damn dancing?  a-HA!

I tried another track at random and found Mr. Brooks inclusionary, welcoming fans of other-than-societally-approved body configurations.  Of course he has to mention his hot auto but he’s a red-blooded American male and we expect no less.  He relates drug use to love with an endearingness to transcend the fundamental alone-ness of getting high, drifting, smearing, moving (usually) not towards but away from others.

AllMusic’s Steve Legget brings forth the description “Otis Redding fronting the Stooges,” but JC Brooks is not (yet anyway) Otis; and the Stooges, heaven love them, don’t often essay this specific species of choogle.  That said, though, Brooks believes in what he puts out, the band’s together on the one with a dryness of sound that sometimes recalls, okay, those boys from Detroit.  Sometimes their dryness flakes away, actually, but I’m still confident about this gig because believers such as this–believers in the dance, believers in body-heat communion, believers in taking the audience up in their balloon–always sound much better live than not-live, anyway.  They require a congregation, and they’ll get one.  Now I’m just hoping for someplace to rest my bad back now and again..