Review: Big Rude Jake – Butane Fumes & Bad Cologne

Big Rude Jake – Butane Fumes & Bad Cologne is one of the most lyrically astute swing revival albums of 1993 that is worth listening to. You can expect to hear that big band jazz sound and that swing jazz sound on this album. His album brings out the fire and passion of the swing scene in a swanky manner. Songs like “Filthy Bastard Cabaret” or “Front Street Belvedere” have a great sense of humor. Clearly this album is powered off of butane fumes and bad cologne.

7th Avenue is the classic all time favorite neo-swing song which fans of neo-swing music favor and enjoy. Jake reminisces and wishes he was back with them cats in his band from those good old times on 7th Avenue. There is a sense of nostalgia in the song.

Jake wishes he was back with all them cats! Tearing it up just like they used to do. All decked out like the Devil’s own on Butane fumes and Bad cologne. And fleecing sheep along the avenue. When every wheel had a dame and every dame looked so fine with painted eyes and smoky blue perfume.

Jake and his band could be down at the diner, eating red beans and rice. They could be at the Coliseum sippin’ Champagne on ice. There was no better place to be than at the fine saloons and drinkin’ holes.
The marquee lights and burlesque shows would open like a soft nocturnal bloom. Jazz would fill the air, curl like smoke, and lick your ear as it drifted down old Seventh Avenue

Jake and his band never worked a single day in their lives. They were the biggest sports that this town ever knew. They turned a dollar for the revelry. A living out of lechery. Merchandise stigmatized with disrepute. With messages of ill repute.

In this town, Jake and his band ran the sweetest operation and a piece of all the action. Then suddenly everything went wrong and got awry. No one really knew how the cops got wise to the band’s illicit antics and malarky.

They stuck the books up in a toilet stall and let some sucker take the fall. Then they disappeared down old 7th Avenue. Jake told police there was no corroborated evidence to charge him with or hold against him. However he has got witnesses saying they were standing next to him. They still holed up on 7th Avenue.

Distinctions are political. You take your seat and you play the hand that’s dealt you. Lay your trump and take your trick. And know that only hypocrites will say they’re lookin’ out for number two. We breathe the musk of every last taboo while the cowards clung to Mama’s hem and all the Statute laws of men. And with every single scandal spent, there’s nothing left to rebel against.

Jake got the whole town hung over on his song Front St. Belvedere. He explains how it feels like all of New York City is hung over. He explains that he gets drunk as a ploy of crying for attention.

It’s morning here on Front Street and Dover Street here in New York City, New York. And it feels like this whole town’s hung over. The potholes look like they would rather just go back to bed. Hunch-backed buildings with blood-shot windows. There’s a Buick passed out in his gutter. The parking meter wishes he’d just called in sick instead. The crack in the sidewalk is yawning. That storefront window’s head is pounding. That hydrant’s waiting for the hair of the dog to come stumbling on by.

Jake props his eyeballs on the front stoop and watches that chimney over there cough up some yellow soup. Sometimes he get drunk and falls over. And sometimes he’s staring down the sewer grate here on Front Street and Dover Street. But if you’re so inclined, just keep in mind that no one asked for your opinion.

Clearly Jake is needing some attention. All because he is the Front Street Belvedere (Front St Belvedere). Well there’s no one like Jake anywhere around here. He is the Muscatel Musketeer. He is the liquor store cavalier. The sky is clear and Aqua Velva blue. The pop bottle is green from the ingredient’s residue. He loves the tin can jingle that goes ding dang dingle when he kicks it down the avenue. You can mind your own business. You can spare him the sermon.

Hard Deep Junction Blues uses a twist of blues and swing jazz. It’s a swing blues fusion. The song is about an auto mechanic named Jude that fell love with a decal on his tail fin that was a glossy Vargas pinup on a beach in Malibu. So he took a faithful leap of blind ambition at a retail thrift store.

An auto mechanic named Jude is flat on his back with his nose stuck up a chassis. He got girlie tats, gabardine, and a greased up pompadour. Jude drives a ‘59 Saratoga on the weekends through the Junction. There he keeps one eyed peeled for something that just ain’t there anymore.

Jude fell in love with a decal on his tail fin. She was a glossy Vargas pinup on a beach in Malibu. So he took a leap of blind ambition at a retail fabrication and Landed up in Knocks-ville (Knoxville, Tennessee) with some Hard Deep Junction Blues.

Junk shops line the streets in the Junction and there are most certainly heaps of useless relics on the sidewalk by the store. Piles of dusty furniture, appliances and curio. Cash and carry cast-offs from the ceiling all the way down to the floor. They got 8-track tapes and busted lamps and dirty books. And them fuzzy dice will get you a dollar off them worn-out walking shoes. Got a sale on blemished wishes and abandoned expectation. Trade in your cracked and peeling daydreams for some Hard Deep Junction Blues.

Mistress Odella says that there’s a spectre in the Junction above the huddled rooftops and the smell of creosote. She says the spirit of St. Jude has revealed himself to her. Crying cherry teardrops with his arms stretched over the fold. Jude hauls off to work in the morning. He ducks the landlord when the rent is overdue. He plays stickball in the alley and he hoses down his driveway. He loiters on the corner and he surveys the cherished multitude.

Summer Haze uses a wild unique twist of Swing-Punk which is swing jazz and punk rock. The song is most certainly perfect to play in the heat of summer haze. Where the grass is cool beneath the willow tree.

Chili Beans’ Final Carouse described a brawl that took place at a Mexican diner and the other fracas that occurred. Roach and Chilli Bean engage in a full all-out gruesome brawl inside a Mexican diner.

It was a night in November when Roach finally surfaced. Just like a World War Two U-boat submarine. He was at a 24-hour Mexican diner talkin’ to a cat they call Chilli Bean.

Well, they got a reputation for lots of talk and no action. They are all talk basically. Drinkin’ tequila and just flapping their jowls. But they come over all quiet. So tonight they just might do it. They getting’ ready for the final carouse. They got a plan that won’t work and an alibi that won’t stick. They got a motive clear as a sun-shiny day. But Bean don’t care.

So while Uncle and Rudy trade Hillbilly trivia with a cowgirl in a red chiffon blouse, Roach and Chilli Bean will be trading last instructions getting ready for the final carouse. The patrons in the diner will have one last drink and have one last toast to all men who are good and civilized.

Bean is currently sporting stone poker face that’s peekin’ out from behind a full house. Just wait until they see when he throws down his cards and he bets it all on the final carouse.

And when the employment counselor asked little Chilli Bean just exactly what it is he wanted to do, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his hands. Been couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth that he wants to kick a hole right through the middle of Main Street and how he truthfully wants to slaughter all them sacred cash cows. He wants to feel this whole town tremble like a wet frightened puppy in the wake of the final carouse.

Circus carny pornographers sell distractions along the corners here. But even the cheapest thrills are getting too expensive. So clear across town to where the big shots live, you’re gonna hear about the last alternative. And the night they made a legend out of a man they call Chilli Bean. Tonight Chilli Bean will be his own Little Caesar. No more bended knees or bashful bows. He’ll cut a big slice of pie that come straight from Hell’s Kitchen and take it along for the final carouse.

Magpie is about a strange and phantom mistress who keeps her treasures and prized possessions sealed in plastic bags. She flaunts her wealth and indulges deep in her lavish lifestyle. This strange and phantom mistress is pretentious affluent woman who flaunts her wealth.

In the park there’s a strange and phantom mistress. Magpie is a strange and phantom mistress who keeps her treasures and prized possessions sealed in plastic bags. Reciting to herself her ribald secrets and wraps her frame in old discarded bags. She seeks out precious things such as bangles, trinkets, and flecks that catch the light. Magpie guards her shiny dreams and keeps them close and safely out of sight.

Wind blows across the street and bites her face with hard relentless teeth. Dampness creeps across her spine and shakes her bones all the way down to her feet. Magpie walks through the hordes of vain and shallow, trite and useless minds. She walks about the squandered wealth of affluent swine! But Magpie has seen the truth. That lurks in shadows cast by tinted glass. Magpie in all her righteousness knows just who is wallowing in trash. Magpie finds her peace of mind in the dark and dank and cold and secret place.

Jake explains that he and his baby want to be dreaming and drifting along the sandy shore on Three Wishes. Indulge in a little fantasy. In the shade of a coconut tree. Who could ask for more?

Blue Jake Jump is a song which explains that the high times never last for long. You feel that energy inside of the jump, bounce, and swing. This song definitely screams swing jazz undoubtedly. Get up on your feet and do the Blue Jake Jump! Go!

Old Blind Blake was a bulk-rate beat flake in a blue bow tie and a cool cut drop drape. He took it to the track with a tip on the take and he put a twenty on the pony in the number 9 gate.

Well, Old Blind Blake met a long leggy shimmy shake and took her to a joint down on Cumberland Place. He whipped out a wad big as Washington State. And he stuck that dough in the governors’ face. He jumped on a table and he said, “Everyone, my baby came here to have us some fun. So don’t sit like a bump on a dime store chump. Get up on your feet and do the Blue Jake Jump!”

The world is diffused and confused it’s true. But there’s one thing that’s understood. The high times never last for long. So you better know to jump when the jumpin’s good!

Well, you’ve been haulin’ buckets of hard luck funk while the joint’s been jumpin’ like a son of a gun!
Do yourself a favor. Leave your pail by the pump. Get up on your feet and do the Blue Jake Jump!

Mad Palomino explains the story of Jake’s Palomino horse. Jake rides a mad Palomino in the long dark hours. This ain’t no carousel pony at your side. This here’s a Mad Palomino with a blisterin’ rage. You best be ready for a hell of a ride. Cinch up the saddle around a Mad Palomino. His horse can rear like a rattle snake and kick you like a cannonball.

Schiela’s Going Downtown is bout Jake searching for his baby Schiela all over town. The song has that 1930s swing jazz sound and style on top of production.

Jake got Sinatra on the jukebox and soda in his gin. He wore out a brand new pair of shoes looking for that baby of his again. He peeked into every crevice under every rock and every board. And he even looked across every bar stool and every empty dance house floor. But people tell Jake his baby Schiela is nowhere to be found. Schiela’s going downtown.

When My Number Comes In is one of the lesser known Big Rude Jake songs which hardly ever gets any mention or accolades. Jake sings about how he will spend his money when his number comes in for a lottery ticket.

Jake sweeps the floor to pay for his ticket. He stands in line at the lottery wicket thinking about the day that he’ll win. He’ll spend my cash when his number comes in. He sings about how he hard works in a diligent manner.

Jake has people to see and things to do. He’s got an appointment with my haberdasher at 2:00. He has got no time to spare. He’s got a cozy little date at Le Club Très Chère. They’ve got a box seat at the very best venue. Jake get the waiter to read him the French menu since he’s got a taste for Alsatian cuisine tonight. They’ll start out with peaches and cream. Jake tells his lady, “And no one cares if you’re fat when you got bread ‘cause if your looks won’t kill your cash will knock them dead!”

He will have a sweet steady girl and two on the side and every skirt he knows will want to be his bride.
He’ll be a man around town. A real V.I.P.! Big rude Jake will be the brand new toast of high society. And he’ll take his buddies out drinkin’ and howlin’ at the moon.

Upper-crust folks got their expensive needs. That is why Jake has a different zoot suit for every day of the year. Hounds-tooth, herring-bone, sharkskin and cashmere. A hundred pair of shoes that will never touch the ground. A rolling jazz band just to follow him around. He’ll spend his money any way he pleases! And you don’t gotta take no shit when you got bread!

Filthy Bastard Cabaret is a swing jazz song filled with a bit of cabaret music and is a good closer for the album. He gets quite raunchy and disturbing with his humor in this song. His humor is something else.

He gets quite raunchy and disturbing with his humor and vocabulary. Take time to read and analyze these lyrics.

Today, the pink and flaxen Saxon’s out of fickle fashions’ passion:
We would rather our affections went to those of ill intentions
Pompous belching lowly hunchbacked swine!
Vain and shallow, egocentric,
A misaligned and drooling sociopath!
A miserable, contemptible and wholly irredeemable,
To tasteless putrid malcontents,

I rate this album 5/5*****!!

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Writer, narrator, research archivist, and content curator for Bout Dat Online.

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