`Molasses' Easily Slides Through Tunes

Molasses with Chubby Children, Easy Times and Neves. Red Roof Pub, 12314 Pacific Hwy. S.W. Tacoma. Tonight, 9:30 p.m. Cover $5. 588-9446. --------------------------------------------------------------- -- TACOMA Talking to a 10-piece horn-spined bottom-heavy funk-and-soul band isn't hard.

Listening is hard.

"Names?" Molasses' trumpet man Keith Curtis asks in answer to the question. "Uh, we're all named Keith."

"No, we're not," counters bassist Harry Wirth.

"Yes we are," rejoins keyboard player Keith Rea.

The other members of Molasses shuffle in and out of their Belltown office and rehearsal space, arguing whether they're `Keith' or not. One thing they're sure of is they all have nicknames. Guitarist Jesse Tarrant is `the spice man.' "Because he adds the `spice' to Harvey ("Pac-Man") Bauer's rhythm guitar," explains Wirth. He goes on to list the alto sax as "Delicious" Dave Fischer, tenor sax Andrew "Hayseed" Hickman, the other trumpet player Kevin "Up" Seely and the bands new drummer as Jeremy "Jerm" Clement.

"Wait a minute," insists Curtis, "Jeremy is the Jerminater!" Wirth reluctantly agrees. Actually Wirth and vocalist Ron Ray are without nicknames and they don't know why, although both are sure they have absolutely no use for Ted Nugent."

"We are not huge on the Nuge," Ray says solemnly.

Molasses first formed - for lack of a better word - around 1989. The core of the group is Wirth, Tarrant and Bauer, who've known and played together since high school.

"We're all from around here," Wirth explains, "except for Ray. He's an Army brat. North Carolina. We didn't really start the group, we just kind of assembled it. Like, Dave just found us. He walked in one day with a horn case and we said, `What's in the case?' He said, `A horn' and we said, `You're in.' Dave knows more about playing than all of us combined."

In a town thick with grunge, Molasses is one of Seattle's few exceptions to slide out. Tiny Hat Orchestra, Black Happy and Sad Happy also have a truly dominant horn sound, but all are very individual. Molasses has arguably the heaviest funk leaning. The horns build a brick-thick, sky-high wall over which Ray's vocals and Tarrant's guitar lines spray across like smoked-up, street-smart graffiti.

As the band hunkers down in the office space the discussion bounces and swells. The names of different players, managers, gigs, clubs, wedding receptions, liner notes, albums, writers, magazines and favorite beverages ricochet off the poster-covered walls. Wirth may be the voice of reason, or at least some semblance of leadership, but he's quickly shouted down. What's clear is that even as large a collection as this group is, they get along pretty well. A real anomaly in a business where trouble generally increases the more members there are.

"We've got all kinds of guys," says Wirth. "And we've played all kinds of gigs. We don't think in terms of where we've played but where we haven't."

And besides live gigs, the band has also recorded an EP, with a full CD soon to follow. The songs from the current release, titled "Straight from the Players," pretty much sum up the Molasses' attitude: "Sugar Sweet," "I Like This Groove," "Cookie Jar," "Little Mary Sunshine" and "Body Love/ Lush" make up the funkified collection. This is a band that's more about style than speed.

"That's why we all get along, that's what we like about the music," Curtis says. "Molasses is the slowest band in town."