BRIGHT, BROMIDIC BRYCE
AND HIS FREEWHEELING FRABJOUS FRIVOLITY
Take note, nightclub-goers: Attending an edition of the spiffy soiree The Bryce Edwards Frivolity Hour might just make you believe in reincarnation. How else can you explain a young entertainer delivering old, old, old pop songs with the nasal croon and slick panache of a band vocalist on a low-fidelity 78 rpm shellac record played on a gramophone with a jazzy, snazzy band? So authentic, so at ease, so in love with the genre is Bryce Edwards that he could be the ghost of bygone crooners. Only his winks and grins—acknowledging the present’s perspective on the past—prove we aren’t trapped in a flashback or a delightful dream.
This high-energy troubadour, in his mid-20s, warbles wonderful tunes from the mid-1920s—give or take a few years—but never comes across as someone flipping through a cache of yellowed sheet music willed to him by a great-grandparent. No, he barrels through his act with the gusto of someone steeped in these songs and their histories.
(photo by Stephen Mosher)
Last night at Birdland, Manhattan’s iconic jazz club, his deep dive into the Roaring Twenties (which, by contrast, might make you call our current era The Boring Twenties) strongly acknowledges that these hits (and would-be hits) weren’t just about the singing. Much of a record’s playing time—or a live act’s runtime—was dedicated to the instrumental melody, often delaying the singer’s entrance by 60 seconds or more. And even then, unless the vocalist was a star, they remained anonymous, with only the words “with Vocal Chorus” printed on the record label.
Likewise, the spotlight isn’t solely on the voice at at Bryce Edwards Frivolity Hour. Instrumental prowess is paramount, with Edwards himself adeptly swingin’ on banjo, ukulele, tenor guitar, mandolin, and songophone—sometimes two at once! But he’s no one-man band (as far as we know, and according to reliable sources, he has only two hands). To up the ante on his multi-tasking, he’s assembled a top-drawer crew of vintage jazz specialists: Scott Ricketts (cornet), Jay Rattman (bass saxophone), Ricky Alexander (clarinet, alto saxophone), and Conal Fowkes (piano). The latter two also provide fun vocal harmonies. Any one of these guys would be a pleasure to hear on his own or in any combination with the others. They’re terrific, creating an irresistible sound where instrumental sections feel like thrilling highlights rather than filler between Edwards’ almost manic energy (which I call “Bryce Spice”).
(photo by Stephen Mosher)
Adding to the charm is his sweetheart, the somewhat calmer and creamier Miss Reilly Wilmit, a regular guest and duet partner who slips into the era’s sound (and his arms) as naturally as donning a costume that’s custom-made. Their playful eye-batting chemistry shone in the DeSylva, Brown & Henderson number “Never Swat a Fly,” complete with pantomime and pluck, as if they were crowned King and Queen of the high school prom.
(photo by Kevin Alvey)
A devoted, diligent historian and font of facts, Edwards introduces his numbers with backstories, name-dropping songwriters and original performers while acknowledging their obscurity. When he mentioned golden-age singer Annette Hanshaw, who had a brief but notable career, a few in the crowd clapped. Beaming, he quipped, “Ah! Scattered recognition!”
Bryce appears with other musicians and has his hand in various projects. (He’s also an actor and visual artist.) His following is fervent, and his setlists ever-evolving, replete with rarer rousers, nutty novelties, and other neglected or nearly forgotten gems. Sure, we got familiar fare in the mix on February 24, like “Makin’ Whoopee,” but this set offered selections that you know are mirth-makers just by their titles—so imagine the lyrics: there was a really rousing reception for “So the Bluebirds and the Blackbirds Got Together” and chuckles for the cheeky “Vo-Do-Do-De-O Blues,” “The Broken Records,” and “Blue Yodel Number 9.”
(photo by Amy Dul)The fascinating romp through rhythm began, fittingly, with the Gershwins’ “Fascinating Rhythm,” a tune introduced a century ago by Cliff “Ukulele Ike” Edwards, the voice of Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. This century’s ukulele-strumming Mr. Edwards makes no claim to be a blood relation—but let’s wait for the DNA evidence.
In the meantime, we can simply cheer his cheerful channeling of a bygone era, brought to life with verve.
(photo by Stephen Mosher)
photos of previous gigs courtesy of Bryce Edwards
The Bryce Edwards Frivolity Hour
Birdland, 315 West 44th St
reviewed on February 24 at 7
for more Bryce, visit, well, Bryce
