Hi-Dee-Ho or No, Voodoo Daddy Swings Low

* 1/2; BIG BAD VOODOO DADDY; “Big Bad Voodoo Daddy”; Capitol/Coolsville

** 1/2; BLUES JUMPERS; “Wheels Start Turning”; Ridge

Big Bad Voodoo Daddy wears a self-appointed crown as Southern California’s kings of swing. But to bend a self-congratulatory catch-phrase that this predictable Ventura band predictably blares on its first major-label album: So what if it swings, when it don’t mean a thing?

Yes, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy’s brassy drive and rhythmic heft fulfill founder Scotty Morris’ ambition of leading a ‘40s-style swing band “as influenced by Black Flag as Count Basie.” But Morris mistakenly assumes that, because his punk roots condone singers who can’t really sing, swing will also accommodate that shortcoming. Even more off-putting, he forgets that punk--at least true punk--is about shattering stylish facades and poses so that the gritty, the real and the lived-every-day can come storming through.

There is nothing to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy’s new CD beyond putting up a facade, dressing up retro-style both in a musical and a fashion sense, and flattering the fans who are caught up in the newly hip swing subculture.

Typical of Morris’ subject matter and tired slang appropriations from days of yore is “Mr. Pinstripe Suit,” an ode to a natty ace-face of the swing crowd who is never seen “without a kitten on his hand.” The milieu is evoked, and that’s it; nothing else happens. There are no characters, emotions, stories to speak of, just cool cats and kittens who like to “swing to the Big Bad Voodoo band” and say “hi-dee-ho” a lot (compare this with Big Sandy and his Fly-Rite Boys, the swinging country-rockabilly band that evokes a revivalist scene and style but proceeds to populate its barroom and dance hall settings with witty, charming, universally resonant storytelling).

With his featureless, plain-as-paste voice, it’s questionable whether Morris could put across a real story if he had one to tell. In a wretched run at “Minnie the Moocher,” the Cab Calloway signature song that’s the only non-original on the album, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy substitutes cliches for personality.

The eight-man band does have a tight, bright sound that hits hard on numbers like “Jumpin’ Jack” and “King of Swing.” The emphasis is on ensemble dynamics rather than solo personalities, with a deft boogie-woogie piano the one nimble element offsetting the dominant brawn.

*

New York City’s Blues Jumpers, who also have an Orange County gig this week, supply most of the good stuff that Big Bad Voodoo Daddy lacks.

Singer Eldridge Taylor has a grabbing, vital voice that echoes jump-blues heroes such as Big Joe Turner and Louis Jordan. The horn soloists are clever and strong, and their penchant for playing it cool as well as hot contributes to the album’s sense of surprise. The material, a balance of original songs and humorous old-time covers, uses swing to tell a story, rather than dully assuming that swing is the story.

While Taylor is engaging as he tinges his amiable, now-cottony, now-edgy voice with the timbres of a soloing saxophone, he does start repeating his tricks. And a closing, rueful, jilted-blues ballad, “Where You Found Me,” finds the singer dipping into his bag of vocal mannerisms when what’s needed is simple, naked feeling. It’s an example of how easily style can overshadow feeling if musicians don’t keep their priorities straight.

Ratings range from * (poor) to **** (excellent), with three stars denoting a solid recommendation.

* Blues Jumpers play Wednesday at the Rhino Room, 7979 Center Ave., Huntington Beach. 8 p.m. $10. (714) 892-3316. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and the Jitters play Friday at the Galaxy Concert Theatre, 3503 S. Harbor Blvd., Santa Ana. 8 p.m. $18.50-$20.50. (714) 957-0600.