OFFBEAT Magazine - New Orleans, Louisiana.

Bonerama Live at the Old Point (MuleTrain Records)

Throughout elementary and middle school, the band kids were always far down on the "cool" hierarchy, just a notch above the Dungeons & Dragons club. The tables turned in high school when the band geeks shed their skins and began forming rock 'n' roll bands and dating the cheerleaders. It was always the guitarists, saxophonists, trumpeters, and drummers who benefited from this maturation. Notably absent were the trombone players. For some reason, adherents to the slide horn art couldn't make the evolution into rock 'n' roll stars. The media undoubtedly played a part in this. Who can forget Rob Lowe standing on the bar blowing his saxophone to throngs of adoring ladies in the seminal '80s classic St. Elmo's Fire? Had he been blowing a trombone things might have changed for the unheralded horn. Alas, the trombone has never felt quite comfortable in the rock setting, but why? You'd think its unique shape would enhance its popularity, at least among the male population, as its phallic properties undoubtedly convey a strong sense of machismo. Could it be then that the trombone's sound does not lend itself to rock ears? Combating several decade's worth of banishment, Mark Mullins and Craig Klein gathered like-minded trombone players of the city together to take issue with this stereotype and put the trombone in its rightful place as a bona fide rock instrument. This endeavor was dubbed Bonerama, and its debut CD Live at the Old Point makes their statement loud and clear.

Joining Mark Mullins and Craig Klein among the trombone troupe are Rick Trolsen, Brian O'Neill and Steve Suter. Guitarist Bert Cotton and journeyman drummer Russell Batiste fill the non-trombone spots gamely, as does sousaphone ace Matt Perrine (what's a rock band without a sousaphone anyhow?). Together they create a sound unlike any this city or any other city has ever produced. Labeling Bonerama as a brass rock band might be a bit misleading. The term rock nowadays carries with it a certain baggage. Much of today's rock is loud, angry and decidedly undanceable. Fortunately, this band cannot escape its heritage, as funky rhythms abound. The second track makes no bones about its leanings as Mullins and crew storm through a blustery version of the Meters' "Funky Miracle." The opening track, a brilliant slice of onomatopoeia called "Bap Bap," contains a beat much more akin to the school of James Brown than Elvis Presley, thanks in large part to the heavily syncopated tandem of Batiste and Perrine. It actually isn't until the fifth track, a cover of Led Zeppelin's "Moby Dick," that an honest-to-goodness rock tune is presented. That the group understands the idiom becomes evident as the song is stripped down to its fundamentals. Five trombones replace Jimmy Page's infectious guitar riff while Russell Batiste disguises himself as John Bonham's long-lost twin mimicking the rock drummer's legendary drum solos. Covering a Led Zeppelin tune should come to no surprise as New Orleanians have a long history of Zeppelin worship. For a period, local radio station WRNO would play only Led Zeppelin songs.

Many times brass bands suffer from sound dynamics. The temptation must be too great to blow with all one's might, resulting in the deadening of the band's intensity. Bonerama proves too savvy for this pitfall. A laid-back arrangement of the Neal Hefti classic, "Lil' Darlin'"(made famous by Count Basie), exemplifies this taste. Gone are the barking and honking sounds of the barnstorming rock songs. Instead, a quieter aesthetic is achieved, which is a feat in itself with five lusty trombones leading the way. The song builds, and with the help of Matt Perrine's bubbly bass lines, finishes as a genuine head bobber. Another welcome change of pace comes from the pen of Mark Mullins in the bluesy ballad "I'm Tellin' Ya." It's a refreshing change in brass music to hear his bright-toned trombone play the melody of a ballad, instead of being relegated to the chorus. The most familiar tune, not including the obvious covers, would be local keyboardist Luca Fredericksen's "Blues For Ben." On any given night of the week, in several venues across town, music lovers will undoubtedly come across this tune with its punchy chorus and driving beat. What makes the Bonerama rendition of "Blues For Ben" stand out is the electric wah-wah trombone solo of Mark Mullins. Maybe in some other cities, there are attempts to electrify the trombone, but none in the fashion of Mr. Mullins. The sound created is comparable to the nonsensical squawk of the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons, but only if the teacher had been tripping on acid. While trombone legend Tommy Dorsey might have trouble swallowing the unorthodox noise coming from the electrified horn, none of the mesmerized crowd had any objections. It pushes the envelope like a good rock 'n' roll song should do.

The opus of the album is the 12-and-a-half-minute closer. Bonerama confronts one of the heaviest guitar riffs in history in covering the Edgar Winter monster guitar classic "Frankenstein." The song is virtually synonymous with the electric guitar. It seems a direct challenge to all the nay-sayers who had kept the trombonists in the band room as the guitarists got all the girls and the glory. Succeed they do, as after one listen, I can't imagine this song being performed in any way except with five raucous defiant trombones supplying the lead. No other instrument would suffice.

While not every song on Live at the Old Point would be classified as rock 'n' roll because of their leanings into jazz, blues and funk, the important fact remains that Bonerama has the rock attitude. It is the personality of a band that defines its genre, and these musicians are the Alice Cooper's of the trombone (note the totally nude liner photo of the band). "Live at the Old Point" is a unique and energizing debut that will hopefully lay the groundwork for future trombone rock collaborations. That nerdy kid in the band room with the trombone just might have the last laugh after all.

- Christopher Blagg