Squirrel Nut Zippers

Out-of-Step Jazz Eccentrics Squirrel Nut Zippers Step Back on Stage

By Matt Fink

Of all of the unexpected musical moments of the 1990s, from a scruffy band of Seattle misfits knocking Michael Jackson from the top of the pop charts, to the surviving Beatles issuing new recordings and hip-hop becoming the music of choice for suburban teenagers, it’s possible that no development was more unlikely than the brief resurgence of interest in swing music. A full 50 years after its peak and just as music seemed to be moving away from the traditional tools of the trade, the Brian Setzer Orchestra, the movie “Swingers,” and a ubiquitous commercial for khakis momentarily had trend-humping hipsters digging through their grandparents’ record collections looking for Louis Prima and Cab Calloway records.  Most unlikely of all was the ascension of a band from Durham, N.C., a band whose deft combination of hot jazz, jump-blues, and ’40s pop meant that it wasn’t really a swing band at all. But just like all those bands, this one was gone as the new century dawned, a band whose music was now a relic of two eras and an unfortunate casualty of changing tastes. Unlike all of those bands and bandwagon jumpers, though, the Squirrel Nut Zippers are back.

“I think it was more curiosity than anything,” says vocalist and guitarist Jimbo Mathus. “We were curious and wanted to see what it was,” he laughs. “It was just more of an experiment just like the first time was, just to see what it would sound like. I think everybody was curious after all those years off, so I had to go back and learn all those guitar parts and everything. It’s a lot more complicated than it sounds like. It took a minute. But if you’ve got the live CD, you can hear that we got it back together pretty good. It’s sort of like seeing a long lost crazy uncle that you hadn’t seen in a long time.”

Having reformed in 2007 around the core of founding members Mathus, vocalist/banjoist/ukulelist Katharine Whalen, and drummer Chris Phillips, Lost At Sea announces the Squirrel Nut Zippers’ return after eight years of hiatus. Recorded in Brooklyn in 2008, the 17-song set revisits many of the highlights from the band’s first run, capturing high energy romps through the jazz exorcism of “The Fat Cat’s Getting Fatter,” the sultry “It Ain’t You” and the klezmer-tinged “Ghost of Stephen Foster,” leaning heavily on the band’s 1995 debut The Inevitable and its 1997 breakthrough Hot. By the time the band gets around to “Hell,” the ominously catchy warning of eternal damnation that ended up turning into a radio and MTV hit, it’s hard to distinguish between this retooled eight-member version of the band and its original lineup. And though the band never lost enthusiasm for its material, this time no one is likely to have to deal with the whirlwind of attention that occasionally sucked the joy out of its success.

“I think it was strange,” Mathus says of the band’s commercial heyday. “I don’t have any animosity or resentment toward it. It was just one of those weird cosmic events. Like I said, our goals have always been artistic and not commercial. That was the first and foremost thing that I insisted on with this band, that it would be family, and we learned and we rehearsed and we never had any aspirations to do anything with this. There was no plan to have a career as the Squirrel Nut Zippers. First and foremost was frying chicken and having fish fries and having everybody picking and singing, and it just sort of took off on us. At most, [the success] was a heartache. It was something that we couldn’t forget about or put out of our minds, but we didn’t obsess over it.”

Still, the band didn’t walk away from its commercial breakthrough without some scars. Trumpet player Stacy Guess was kicked out of the band and died of a heroin overdose in 1998. Founding bassist Don Raleigh and saxophonist Ken Mosher both quit. There were lawsuits by the Squirrel Brand Company claiming that the band owed them part of its profits due to the presence of “squirrel” and “nut” in the band’s name. Soon, vocalist and guitarist Tom Maxwell, the songwriter who contributed much of the band’s original material, became so disillusioned with fame that he began writing songs about leaving the band, something he did in 1998. More members came and went. By 2001, those that were left had little energy left to sort through the entanglements, wandering away from their Durham home base and off into side-projects and solo work. Just like that, the Squirrel Nut Zippers were gone.

“Down in Mississippi and in the South, most people know me as a honky-tonk singer or a blues singer,” Mathus says of his post-Zippers work, a period of time that included him touring with blues legend Buddy Guy and producing a record for Elvis Costello. “They don’t even know anything about Squirrel Nut Zippers in the places I play down here, so that made me realize how unique that music was and how strange and beautiful it was.” Eventually, though he doesn’t own a computer or surf the Internet, Mathus began to realize that the Zippers’ following had actually grown in stature while they were gone.

“There’s nothing like us,” Mathus says. “Now that we’ve been on the road, Devotchka — these different groups that we’ve toured with over the past couple years — tell me that they’re influenced by us and that’s why they’re interested in the music that they’re doing now and their style and approach to what they’re doing. From Manhattan to San Francisco and all around the country, there are people who have things going on that are based on what we started. I’ve seen these groups in the past couple years, so in that regard, I knew that it had meant something.”

That said, Mathus admits that he has no greater expectations for the band now than he did when they started 16 years ago, refusing to offer any indications that the they’ll eventually head back into the studio to see what frontiers remain. Now parents whose children are starting their careers as musicians, Mathus says that this time around the band will stay rooted in the present, enjoying what the moment offers, however profitable or unprecedented.

“When it’s all said and done, it is a blessing to us, and that’s where it’s at,” Mathus says firmly. “We just come make people happy with our shows, and we put a lot of time and energy and consideration into how we interact with people and the audience and crowds and make everybody happy and have a good time. That’s what the Squirrel Nut Zippers are about.”

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