Groove is in the heart

After a six month hiatus, Reverend Groove return to Portland with a tighter sound and a new, live CD

by Pete Hodgin

Reverend Groove play the Stone Coast on Saturday, August 19.

GROOVY: Paul Thibeault, Paul Joseph, and Matt Rancourt.

I'm arguably the worst dancer on God's green Earth, or at least tied for worst with my dad, so as a purely ego-protective measure, I've developed a regrettable, but reflexive aversion to all self-described "dance bands." I have even gone so far as to needlessly poke fun at bands that include buzzwords like "funk," "groove," or "booty" in their names. When I sat down with Matt Rancourt, lead vocalist and keys for Reverend Groove, who describe themselves as "Maine's premier and only all-originals dance band," I figured I was a goner. Certainly, inevitably, my bias would slip out and torpedo the interview and I might even get my "moneymaker" kicked in the bargain. However, Rancourt turned out to be a forgiving, thoughtful soul and Reverend Groove a disarmingly interesting band in the process of re-inventing itself and re-introducing itself to Portland audiences.

A three-piece consisting of Rancourt, his cousin Paul Joseph on guitar, and Paul Thibeault on drums, Reverend Groove have been setting local hips shaking for over four years, but have only truly come into their artistic own recently.

"I think of Reverend Groove as only being a year old," Rancourt explains, "because when Paul Thibeault rejoined the band as a drummer [in the summer of 1999], that's when we revamped the whole sound, and it's finally where I always wanted it from the beginning."

The new RG sound slams tightly sequenced bass and drum loops against the trio's already slinky, smooth live instrumentation, creating a more modern vibe and effectively upping the already substantial dance ante -- '90s sampling styles merging harmoniously with '70s disco-soul. Add Rancourt's strong vocals, which sound a bit like Peter Gabriel or Steve Winwood with more yearning and urgency, and you've got something worth checking out.

"It shouldn't work," Rancourt admits, "but it does. It blends well." Although they've gotten a little flack from a couple bass players lamenting the lack of a phat bottom end, the feedback on the new sound has been mostly positive, and many fans have commented that the band sounds tighter than ever.

"You're not going to hear anything real heavy, or negative or thrashing" Rancourt remarks. "Reverend Groove is like a celebration of good feelings and positive vibes, and it's hard to say that without sounding cheesy. It really does doesn't it? But hey, that's what I believe and that's the way I live my life."

Reverend Groove's new, self-released CD, Good Thing!, was, as Rancourt describes it, "recorded live, flat-notes and all" at Bloomfield's Tavern in Waterville in May of this year, and it exemplifies the sleek reworking of RG favorites. Cuts range from the pure fun of "The Freak," a slow burner based on the beloved behemoth B.B. LeFreak ("this big, rugged, hairy guy" who would "out-dance everybody" at RG shows, says Rancourt), to more serious songs like "Slavery," which uses a reggae bass line to carry lyrics about mental, emotional, and physical oppression. There's even a touch of Vegas crooning in cuts like "Voodoo," as if Tom Jones and Moby got shoved into the same sandbox and told to play nice.

The sound on Good Thing! has yet to be experienced fully by local audiences, as Reverend Groove haven't played a Portland date since the Basement folded back in February. Rancourt hopes that when they take the stage at the Stone Coast on Saturday, the fans they grew to love during their Basement gigs will materialize again.

And as for new fans materializing, Rancourt recognizes and validates that their identification as a "dance band" might get in the way at times. "The things is, I don't really like saying dance band" he admits, "because it gives a lot of people the wrong idea," explaining that anyone with a fog machine and motion lights (which RG have incidentally), playing Top 40 covers can be construed as a "dance band." This worsens the cause of bands playing truly original dance music, and contributes to people like myself historically dismissing such bands out of hand. Rancourt insists that getting out and experiencing Reverend Groove's live show is really the only way to judge if the scene is for you. He still fondly remembers a "thrasher guy" who approached the band after one show to say he'd never, ever, under any circumstances buy their CD and doesn't like their style of music, but he was still impressed by how much heart and skill they put into their performance.

"You didn't have to pay me that night," Rancourt insists. "It was the strangest compliment I ever got, but one of the most effective."

For Rancourt and Reverend Groove, getting audience members moving, thinking, or simply taking in a set make the effort all worthwhile -- labels be damned.

Pete Hodgin can be reached at ph4872@aol.com.