November 26–December 3, 1998

music

Just a Minute

Last Minute Man George Manney offers a 60-second jam.

by a.d. amorosi

It's no secret that the human attention span has dwindled considerably since the dawn of the TV commercial, the sound bite and MTV.

Most artists and critics bemoan this situation. But not producer George Manney. With his new local music CD, Last Minute Jam Volume 2: Minutes To The Millennium, he's counting on you to simply give him and his friends a minute.

Manney gave 69 Philly musicians—including Kevin Karg, Rich Kaufmann, Mike LeCompt, Philly Heats' congregation of singing cops, singers from Father Judge High and Lauren Hart—60 seconds to play and do a good deed. Partial proceeds from the disc and Wednesday's CD-release party benefit the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation, Settlement Music School and the Philadelphia chapter of the National Academy for Recording Arts and Sciences

From the ticklish piano stylings of Ted Gerkie and the acoustic soul of Chuck Treece to the quirky nasal power-pop of Wobbly and the shimmering folk of Nancy Falkow, Minutes To The Millennium satisfies at breakneck speed. This is all due to Manney, the former accordion player turned drummer/producer who moved from jamming at his parents' Tacony home (a fave spot for Philly musicians during the Christmas holidays) to playing with Kenn Kweder, Ron Nevison and Beru Revue throughout the '80s.

"My folks were musicians, so every inch of the house was wired for sound," says Manney. "I can still remember that giant Webcore mono reel-to-reel tape recorder my mom had. The green flashing eye on top of it, the flange effects, everything about the process fascinated me."

After playing with Philly guitar whiz Greg Davis in Beru, the two got along so famously that they started an impromptu jam night in 1986 at Khyber Pass with bassist Michael Radcliffe and keyboardist Wally Smith.

"I had to bring my own PA because the Khyber didn't have one," Manney laughs. "And every week I'd get beat up by somebody wanting to steal it."

As the crowds grew, he moved this Tuesday night jam to J.C. Dobbs. As The Last Minute Jam Band, Manney and his pals were the house act and Dobbs' Tuesday night sessions became de rigueur for thousands of musicians looking to work out their schtick, to express their best and worst artistic impulses.

Manney, 47, is a genial, generous chap; every instinct seems geared toward being communal and inclusive. After the success of 1996's Last Minute Jam Vol. 1 Manney was looking for a way to get more talented Philadelphians into the act.

"I wanted the next CD to play like a variety show with diverse musics and the opportunity to take fun chances," Manney says. "Plus, I wanted to take a jab at the idea of 'taking a minute.' Because nothing ever takes a minute. In this case it took a year and a half."

Although Manney rounded up scads of willing locals like Eltro, jitterbug boy Ronnie James and mopey folkies Cory, he took a personal hit in June with the sudden hit and run death of his inspiration—his mom, Madeline. "Very Italian, very matronly" is how Manney describes his mom. He honored her by including her own "paper guitar" ticklish tango "Our Love Affair" on the CD.

"She liked to entertain people, and she liked having all my friends jamming at the house at all hours while she cooked for 'em and played with 'em."

The Manney family jam goes with Minutes To The Millennium. He cites the dedication of people like Rich Kaufmann, Ben Arnold and Lauren Hart, each "writing fully developed songs that tell a story beginning to end." And while he laughs about the dynamic pop from people like Wobbly and the spiritual intricacy of guitar riffs from Rick Iannacone and Greg Davis, Manney is most in awe of two contributors: Stewkey and Marvis Frazier. Stewkey, the legendary cohort of Todd Rundgren in the '60s psychedelic act the Nazz, has been in semi-retirement for some time. But with his emotional, gospel-inspired "Share Your Love," Manney says Stewkey may be ready to record again. Frazier, the son of Smoking Joe and a preacher in his own right, steps up to the microphone not once but twice. He offers both a spoken word elegy and a raging blues bit complete with his own brutally raw roar on harmonica.

"That's the cool thing about the record," says Manney, citing the Time Machine illustration on the CD cover, "that people had the chance to be something or somebody they're not, to improv, to risk, to drive through space if necessary."

The Last Minute Jam party, Wednesday, Nov. 25, 10 p.m., Samuel Adams Brew House, 1516 Sansom St., second floor. Info: 332-5769.