You know who oozes swag? Who might even have the definition of swag in my book now? The Dirty Dozen-Brass Band. Most specifically Suave Suave and Dirty Ol’ Man the two lead saxophone players for the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. I was lucky enough to see them at a free show at something attempting to be like Feed Me Chicago, where Nob Hill in Albuquerque shuts down the roads for a day and has lots of free live music and food and discounts in all the stores. A good time for all, we were graced with the presence of the Dirty Dozen Brass Band to close out the festivities. Which was a literal Godsend. I had just returned from Chicago and Pitchfork and was still feeling the withdrawal effects from not listening to music for 12 hours a day. This was the perfect division from my sadness. The concert had everything you could possibly want from a show, music you can’t help but dancing too, hilarious performers, and obviously, attractive girls that were digging your dancing style. I knew little about the Dirty Dozen Brass Band except that they are a legendary jazz band and they know how to have a good time. Boy, how right those two things are. From the moment I got to the performance, until the moment they stopped playing, my body was moving. I banged on my chest like it was a drum set, I bounced my knees back and forth and I basically just moved any part of my body as much as I could.
What really made the show was the fact that two very attractive girls were dancing their hearts as well just in front of me. Some how they knew or could feel my violent dancing through the floor because they kept doing checks on me for a good amount of the show. I just kept dancing, not worrying about a thing and of course they eventually wanted to get closer. To the stage that is and sadly, they disappeared for the rest of the night. This was the first show I had ever been too where I was perfectly fine with staying a fair distance away from the stage for the simple fact that I was having too much of a good time dancing where I was.
The songs they played were pretty memorable too, because when me and my brother got their new album for my dad’s birthday a couple of weeks later, I recognized every single one. They also played two amazing covers though, which were the best parts of the whole performance. Their rendition of “When the Saints Come Marching In” and “Superstition” were superb and I was just too excited to finally know some words to sing along that the songs were that much better.
Now for their last song, called “Dirty Ol’ Man,” they invited some young girls onto the stage to dance with them. It was funny at first but slowly it became creepy as each elderly member of the band took a turn to grind on the girl. But I overlooked it. They had created too much fun for them not to be allowed to have a little, even if it was a little weird.
Swag is such a hard concept to quantify, but old guys with sweet beards, playing New Orleans jazz and grinding on young girls may just about be the exact definition. So shout out to the Dirty Dozen Brass Band for doing the unthinkable, and keeping swag alive with the elderly population. Who says swag is just for the youngins’ now?