Swing is the most bluegrass-y subspecies of jazz. The chunk of the guitar chopping and comping away, the improvisational fiddle, and the walking bass solos almost guaranteed to elicit applause are more than reminiscent of âgrass. Itâs not uncommon to hear standards played in the style of Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli wafting from more progressive bluegrass jams. Quintessential numbers like âSwing 42â and âMinor Swingâ morph seamlessly into new acoustic favorites like â16/16â and âE.M.D,â both written by David âDawgâ Grisman. Dawg, arguably more than anyone else, is responsible for bringing swing and gypsy jazz to the bluegrass masses — but he isnât just a jazzy missionary to more folky, old-time realms; he has made a home for himself in the heart of the swing scene, as well. Heâs as comfortable straddling the fence as he is jumping down and spending some quality time on either side.
On the opening track of Hot Club Sandwichâs just-released album, No Pressure, the duo of mandolins make this bluegrass comparison most palpable. But donât be mistaken: This band, this album, and this track are all swing. Hot Clubâs mandolinist Matt Sircely and Dawg himself, the writer of âSwang Thangâ and the albumâs producer/advice guru, twin the tuneâs bouncy, whimsical, jovial head and swap licks with each other during the solo sections. Listeners may feel a sudden urge to run away to the countryside in France, or to sip wine or snooty coffee at a street side cafĂ©, or watch an indie movie or Fiat/Vespa car chase after a dose of this swang. Itâs a pleasure to hear Dawg do what he does best with this Washington-based string outfit thatâs been carrying the swing banner for going on two decades.
