Crooning, Swinging Love Jones: Alternative Music With A Smile

LOS ANGELES - Dressed in snazzy matching ensembles, crooning and swinging and banging bongos, Love Jones may look like just another crew of hipster lounge lizards.

But they warble about underage love, drive-ins, drug lords, life vests and big hair. "Here's to the Losers," the band's debut album, carries no "parental advisory" label; in fact, kids may feel it's inappropriate for their folks.

Instead, the record bears a little pink sticker that says, "Get off your grungy little flannel-shirt Doc Marten trip already."

The album includes an uncredited appearance by the band's hard-core labelmates, Tool. "We want to reappropriate the word `alternative,' " said Jonathan Palmer.

"We have a little saying," added Ben Daughtrey: "Love Jones is the only alternative you have left - you poor fools."

The band is even ready to take on Pearl Jam. Love Jones will make you laugh, but the band is no joke. Daughtrey, former drummer for the Lemonheads and Squirrel Bait, is surprisingly earnest. "We feel that the music is a return to real, melodic songwriting," he said.

"Hopefully they're taking the music seriously. The image is there to have fun with," Palmer said.

Love Jones' vocal duties are divided among Daughtrey, whose conga and bongo licks are as sharp as his one-liners; Palmer, who provides the mellow, lounge-faithful vocals; and guitarist Chris Hawpe, who chimes in with old-fashioned falsettos. Bassist Barry Thomas and drummer Stuart Johnson also wear the specially designed Love Jones loungewear.

The music is certainly the real deal - catchy, finger-snapping melodies or pretty pop that incorporates everything from samba to swing and bossa nova.

Sure, there are a couple of genuinely pretty, relatively serious songs but most are wry and tonic. "Pineapple" is the snappy, funky ode to Manuel Noriega with a soaring chorus; "Custom Van" tells the tale of a man looking for love (and hitchhikers), living a dream until a tragic encounter with a Peterbilt truck; "I Like Young Girls" is self-explanatory. And alleged Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss has agreed to appear in the video for "Li'l Black Book."

"All of it has humor in it," Daughtrey said, from a between-cut dream sequence to the album packaging - from the funky pink logo to the liner notes, which call the songs "catchy as Velcro."

The band started in an unlikely burg - Louisville, Ky. "Basically, Barry and I were in kind of a white tribute to the Time (Prince protege Morris Day's group) called Love Jones." A few loungier numbers got him to thinking; "Why can't we just play music like this?"

The various members assembled for drinks, a few three-part harmonies and some minimalist music and impromptu instrumentation.

As Love Jones, they started playing in the Louisville area, "basically anywhere we could get a free drink," Daughtrey said.

They established a solid following, but record companies were hesitant, deciding, "This is either too weird or not weird enough," Daughtrey said. So they decided to move to Los Angeles "and see what the hell people thought of it . . . "

The band wound up with a weekly gig in Los Angeles at Largo, taunting and entertaining audiences.

Members of Tool caught the band at Largo and invited Love Jones to open for them at the Scientology Garden Pavilion in Los Angeles. Tool's mosh-inducing show went off smoothly; Love Jones was the evening's troublemaker.

The show impressed Tool's label, Zoo Records, enough to get Love Jones a record deal. But the Scientologists didn't look upon the band as kindly; seems they didn't appreciate the stage banter, which targeted the the church and Scientology founder L. Ron Hubbard. After four songs the band's microphones were cut off, but they continued to play anyway. "We were accosted and removed from the property," Daughtrey said.