With all due respect to Wynton Marsalis and his Lincoln Center crew, jazz traditionalists are…well, they’re jackasses. Jazz was the definition of musical adventure until Upper West Side honkies started trading in their philharmonic memberships for that classic jazz sound. Don’t get me wrong, I like to listen to Miles, Coltrane, Satchmo and the Duke as much as the next person. But Miles Davis wasn’t even revisiting Kind of Blue five years after he made it, so why should anyone else be revisiting it 40 years later? Sex Mob isn’t so traditional. Their meandering horns and smooth rhythms fall somewhere between the avant-garde and the smoky club, and the extracurricular touches—samples, megaphone lyrics, deep electro hums—surely are more thoroughly enjoyed with a doobie than a highball. Indeed, like Medeski Martin & Wood, Sex Mob seems to be a hit among jam band enthusiasts, and while they’re jackasses too, at least they’re jackasses who can have some fun without the faux-witty repartee.
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