Even with band a name that sounds like a punchline from a middle school boys’ locker room, Bonerama stay on the better side of what separates novel from novelty. The New Orleans’ sextet’s front line of singing trombonists played their signature extension of some of their hometown’s brass-drive musical traditions to what group member Craig Klein deemed a “small but intelligent crowd” Sunday night at Shank Hall.
In so far as anyone desirous to see an act for whom a relatively sparse audience meant no apparent lack of energy on stage, those filling the seats at Shank did indeed made a wise choice. And if anybody there wanted to witness an ensemble whose aesthetics straddle the funkiness of The Meters and the spirited accompaniment of a Crescent City funeral tackling the repertoire of some of the founding fathers of heavy metal, that was a bonus for them!
That was because Bonerama were touring behind their forthcoming album of Led Zeppelin reinterpretations, Bomerama Plays Zeppelin. Prone to camp as that concept may appear on its face, it becomes a template for legitimately inventive negotiations of the canon of one of the hoariest ensembles in the classic rock pantheon.
That de facto leader Mark Mullins—he spoke the most, anyway—occasionally applied a pedal effect to his trombone to give it a monstrously alien tone abetted the guys’ Zep’ tributes, though he used the trick elsewhere in their two sets as well. Having Mullins’ gloriously pompadoured son, Chris, sing a few numbers, such as “Good Times, Bad Times” and “Immigrant Song,” and successfully approximate a young, rockabilly-looking Robert Plant played in their favor, too.
But the idea of mashing up a combo led by an instrument more commonly associated with marching and ska bands with Led Zep is a genuinely savvy one. It wasn’t for nothing that Zeppelin’s first few albums cracked the R&B sales charts, nor that hip-hop producers have sampled Zed Zeppelin staples like “When The Levee Breaks,” too. Bonerama drummer Walter Lundy didn’t attempt to recreate the ominous oppression of John Bonham’s attack, but his frequently rapid fire approach mimicked what it might sound like were he to have to set off multiple Fourths of July’s worth of firecrackers in the back of the stage complemented the proceedings. Guitarist Bert Cotton sounded as if he’s listened to Funkadelic six-string wizard Eddie Hazel as much as he has Jimmy Page; his own battery of effects in tandem with all those horns, including Matt Perrine’s frequent implementation of Sousaphone to replace his electric bass, resulted in truly psychedelic excursions toward the end of the night.
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Riveting as an entire evening of revisions of British hard rock royalty would likely have been, the Boner’ men dedicated some of their time to their burg’s fertile musical history a well. All three regular trombonists on their run through Fats Domino’s “I’m Walking,” and a tribute to the late New Orleans food truck green grocer who went by Mr. Okra possessed a vim recalling Cab Calloway leading The Hoosier Hot Shots.
An encore reading of traditional pacifist hymn “Down By The Riverside” was the closest the guys came to Dixieland style. But in case anyone were to get a wrong impression, they concluded with another dose of Zepply heaviosity before bidding their small, sage crowd adieu.
