Wednesday, June 9, 1999 | 6:05 a.m.
Geoff Carter VEGAS.COM
First published on Jan. 24, 1998.
Home Cookin' is not a band; it is a monster. A creature composed of well-worn brass fittings, gold lame, low-end rumble, ten hearts and multiple limbs all intent upon hitting it on the one. They do not play shows; they host dinners. On the menu: slick horn charts, fierce guitars, engaging vocals, a rhythm section sharp enough to cut through tin cans and more than a few surprises.
Ask a question, and Home Cookin' will respond with a unified answer. Leave an opening, and Home Cookin' will endeavor to fill it. Fall off a tall building, and Home Cookin' will be waiting at the bottom with an air mattress and a pitcher of beer. They're that thick, that friendly, that willing to please.
Unfortunately, this solidarity unwittingly makes them an imperial pain in the ass to interview. Nine neo-brothers sit in a semi-circle and answer each other's questions, as if at a gospel revival: "Yeah, man." "Right on, right on." It is difficult -no, impossible - to determine who is saying what at times; such is their singular voice. Therefore, some quotes in this story may be attributed to one "Mr. Cookin'" - the Thing from Planet Funk.
Tonight, direct from the mothership: Dave Baker, guitar; Steve Barclay, bass; Russ Bert, tenor sax; Jason Colby, trumpet; Steve Dawson, baritone sax; Frank Klepacki, drums; Dave Philippus, trombone; Jordan Robins, vocals; Rob Stone; alto sax. (Percussionist Joe Malone can't make it, which makes my job that much easier, and marks the third time I've almost interviewed Joe: he missed a Tippy Elvis interview, and his quotes didn't make the last December's Vargas cover story. Hey, Joe!)
We take over several tables at Money Plays, order up a few beers, the band forgives me for being half an hour late and we get in the groove.
THE COLLECTIVE
In 1988, Robins and Baker started jamming together with a long-gone drummer as Home Cookin', knocking around the bars until scholastic and financial matters forced a brief hiatus. Their pursuit of marketable skills lasted until January 1997, when suddenly a fully-staffed, well rehearsed and completely primed Home Cookin' suddenly dropped from the sky and started playing standing-room-only gigs.
Hang on a second here.
"First, we started playing together with Frank as the Chemical Solution [in late 1995], just trying to find our sound," says Baker.
"We were trying out different kinds of material, trying to figure out what was going to work best," adds Klepacki.
"We used the other name as a way to record the new material without blowing our load. That's how I interpret it, anyway."
"Good interpretation," chuckles Robins.
"So we tested our stuff on the crowd, and the funkier stuff worked out the best," says Klepacki. "So we just stuck it out, which is what Home Cookin's always done, even prior to me being in the band."
I comment on the band's solidarity; how unusually cooperative and friendly they seem for a double quintet.
"There's power in numbers, man," says Mr. Cookin'. "There's ten people and no room for conflicts."
WHAT MAKES THEM COOK?
There's nobody that grooves the way we do," says Robins. "The horns are a big part of it," says Klepacki. "We could just get up there as a rhythm section, but we would sound like every other rhythm section that's trying to be funky."
"You can really mix it up with horns," says Stone, grinning wide. "Plus, the women love 'em, which is the primary attraction of having horns."
"And I'm getting better at writing horn charts," says Klepacki. "Nothing makes me happier than hearing from the horn section that my charts are getting better. I mean, they have to play them night after night."
"[Frank's] style of songwriting fits so well with the band," says Bert, "that I thought the new songs were ones that Jordan and Dave had written."
FOR THE RECORD: SUMMER 1997
Home Cookin's debut CD, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, has been selling steadily since it hit the shelves late last year. Most of it was recorded at Frank K. Studios of Las Vegas, scarcely twenty feet from where the drummer and Westwood Studios house composer cooks dinner.
"Listen to this," says Klepacki, playing the tracks that would become their debut album. "X-Rated Superstar" leads the parade with its Nile Rodgers-style guitar riffing and sly, sexy lyric ("Getting ladies from the latest magazines...making money with my pants down"). Every track Klepacki plays blurs my memory of the previous by virtue of being so goddamn catchy - stickier than peanut butter and marshmallows.
Before long we arrive at the power groove of "Soul Space Express." Robins belts the lyric through a Vocoder, evoking a hot set of memories in my head-the first time I saw an Ohio Players album cover, hearing Roger "Zapp" Troutman throw down live.
The song fades and Klepacki shakes his head in wild disbelief.
"This," he says excitedly, "is the sound we've always wanted."
WHO'S THAT GIRL?
The eye catching cover of Mmm, Mmm, Mmm was designed by Robins, who works as an art director at DRGM Advertising when not dropping the bomb. Former Playboy centerfold, Playmate of the Year and Las Vegas resident Corinna Harney peers into an oven diffused with unearthly green light. It's da funk, and it's rising!
"A complete sweetheart," says Robins. "We didn't even ask her to do the cover; she volunteered."
WHY FRANK WEARS THAT GOLD LAME SUIT
"I figured nobody was gonna see me behind the drums," smiles Klepacki, "so I had better wear the flashiest shit in the group."
"We talked him out of setting himself on fire," adds Robins.
There would be no point, anyway. The entire band is already burning, happily hard-firing their repertoire into the collective nervous system of a packed house. Ten men light the torch, but it's the fabulous Mr. Cookin' that combusts.
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