Sound Check — Geoff Carter: Artists aim to create a musical ‘sense of place’

Friday, May 12, 2000 | 9:04 a.m.

Geoff Carter's music column appears Fridays. Reach him at carter@vegas.com

Everyone has got to be somewhere. By that reasoning, it follows that some of us should be dancing the night away at Hugh Hefner's Playboy Mansion, while some of us sit across the street from Keaton's Bar & Grill as it burns to the ground. Both are interesting, but which one's more fun?

Dimitri from Paris and Roy Nathanson each attempt to musically create a sense of place with their latest releases, "A Night at the Playboy Mansion" and "Fire at Keaton's Bar & Grill." Only one album really succeeds in doing so, but both hit the sweet spot -- and from entirely different angles of approach.

"Mansion" comes by sea. Dimitri works up a good mix, but the sly French DJ doesn't so much evoke a lost weekend at Hef's as he does a restless night on "The Love Boat." Festive, airy disco stirs uneasy memories of polyester trousers, big hair and Tonight's Special Guest Stars.

Not to say that's a bad thing, but it's pretty far from the classy line Dimitri walked with his U.S. debut, "Sacrebleu." Playfully biting the hand that fed it, "Sacrebleu" borrowed hundreds of lounge jazz conventions and bent as many. The overall effect was one of annoying brilliance -- you could see the sucker punches coming, and despite yourself leaned into them.

There's no such serendipity here. Working with a few classic disco records and a fistful of naked disco tributes, Dimitri seems uptight and unable to maneuver. The records more or less run him, and you get no sense of Dimitri being surrounded by Playmates at the Mansion, or being anywhere in sight for that matter. As the 1971 edition of Playboy's Host and Bar Book puts it: "Most guests at a party will unbend only if the host himself can relax."

Which is not to say that it's not a fun party nonetheless. Your enjoyment will depend largely on how loud your stereo cranks; Cerrone's "Give Me Love" and Terry Hunter's "Sweet Music" only sound good too loud.

So what if Dimitri lands just shy of a party foul? At least he got said party going, and going strong. The more I listen to "A Night at the Playboy Mansion," the more I find that I cannot shake the image of a bikini-garbed Lauren Tewes in a go-go cage -- less "Love Boat" and more "Laugh-In." That's not a bad thing -- just not what you'd expect.

Roy Nathanson, on the other hand, knows where he lives, and with "Fire at Keaton's Bar & Grill" hits the address head-on. The Jazz Passengers' saxophonist has demonstrated a gift for making seasoned jazz vocalists of rock musicians in the past -- if you haven't heard Jeff Buckley's slick turn on the Passengers' "Jolly Street," you haven't lived.

But "Fire" makes the process seem flawlessly simple. Sure, Elvis Costello and Deborah Harry were already halfway to Birdland -- Harry toured with the Passengers -- but on "Fire," they seem to the barstool born. Costello narrates the tale of Keaton's miserable end with a sad sack, Chet Baker-ish croon: "Say we drank / and we prayed / some just sat like a choir." It's one of the best vocals he's ever recorded, virtually brimming with romance and pathos.

The Psychedelic Furs' Richard Butler does him one better. On "Last Call," Butler sounds like a glib, toothy twin to Tom Waits. His miserable drunk and possible arsonist is as a complete a character as any Waits has created. "I'll sing 'til my voice turns blue / pour gasoline all over these dreams / and fix me a drink for two," sings Butler in a half-lucid slur. By the time Nathanson steps in with a sympathetic solo you really know this guy, and hate his guts.

Having said that, "Fire at Keaton's Bar & Grill' isn't so much about its characters as the place they inhabit -- a smoky world of losers and babes, ratfinks and patsies. A trip to this jazzy otherworld is almost as inviting as a trip to a genuine dive bar, and half as taxing on the liver and intellect. The more I listen to it, the better I feel -- and that's always a good place to be.