Heat Wave – The Intoxicating World of Nexotica as Dug by Lux and Ivy
I’m sure I said I wouldn’t get any more of these, but here we are. It seems entirely reasonable that some, if not all, of these records were owned by the fair, jettisoned by 50s hipsters when their family began to look ascance at the delapidated Tiki bar where the new telly is meant to go. I completely understand the corner Cherry Red has painted itself into – you get the rights to release a batch of exotica, but once you’ve released a ‘best of’ or comp of a certain artist’s wares, you’re left with a lot of tracks gathering dust. At least this way we get to chomp into Bianchi and the Jungle Sex-tet and The Markko Polo Adventurers.
All of which means, yes, you do get yet another clutch of Martin Denny, Les Baxter, and Arthur Lyman. In this instance, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Denny’s ‘Exotica’ (1957) practically launched the genre, and his follow-ups, ‘Forbidden Island’, ‘Primitiva’, ‘Afro-Desia’, cemented his status as the king of the bamboo bongo. Lyman, his former vibraphonist, went solo and arguably out-Dennied Denny, recording over 30 albums including ‘Taboo’, ‘Bwana À’, and ‘The Legend of Pele’. Les Baxter, meanwhile, was the genre’s grand architect. Before exotica, he was arranging for Nat King Cole and Yma Sumac (whose five-octave voice features here). He scored over 150 films, including the Roger Corman Poe adaptations (The Pit and the Pendulum’, ‘The Raven’) and beach party flicks like ‘Muscle Beach Party’. His albums ‘Ritual of the Savage’, ‘Tamboo!’, ‘Jewels of the Sea’ are masterclasses in orchestral fantasy, blending Afro-Cuban rhythms with Debussy-esque flourishes and a healthy dose of Hollywood kitsch.
But what makes ‘Heat Wave’ more than just another tiki torch compilation is the inclusion of artists like Leo Addeo, Robert Drasnin, Frank Comstock, and Johnny Richards, names that rarely get marquee billing but deserve a moment in the limelight.
Addeo, a Brooklyn-born clarinettist and saxophonist, became one of RCA’s go-to arrangers in the ’50s and ’60s. He specialised in Hawaiian music, releasing albums like ‘Hawaii in Hi-Fi’, ‘Calypso and Other Island Favorites’, and ‘Blue Hawaii’. His work may have been filed under “easy listening,” but there’s real craftsmanship in those arrangements, lush, melodic, and just the right side of syrupy. Comstock was your classic ‘behind-the-scenes’ man, composing for Disneyland attraction, composing and arranging whilst often dodging the spotlight (though his 1962 solo work, ‘Project: Comstock – Music from Outer Space’ is terrific).
Drasnin, on the other hand, brought a noirish edge to the genre. A clarinettist with a background in big bands (Les Brown, Red Norvo), he composed for over 100 films and TV shows, including ‘Picture Mommy Dead’ (1966), Crowhaven Farm (1970), ‘The Candy Snatchers’ (1973) and incidental music for ‘The Twilight Zone, ‘Hawaii Five-O, and ‘The Man from U.N.C.L.E.’. His 1959 album ‘Voodoo’, recorded with a young John Williams on piano, became a cult classic, later followed by ‘Voodoo II’ and ‘Voodoo III’. He even performed live at tiki festivals well into the 2000s, proving that exotica’s spell never quite wore off.
Then there’s Johnny Richards – born Juan Manuel Cascales – who straddled the line between exotica and serious jazz. He arranged for Stan Kenton on albums like ‘Cuban Fire!’ and ‘Adventures in Time’, and led his own big band on records like ‘The Rites of Diablo’ and ‘Experiments in Sound’. He also wrote ‘Young at Heart’, made famous by Frank Sinatra. Richards’ work is dense, dissonant, and often thrilling, proof that exotica wasn’t all bamboo and bongos.
Even the more obscure entries have pedigree. Bianchi and the Jungle Sex-Tet, aka Bob Romeo, only released one album (‘Music to Play in the Dark’, 1959), but it’s a fever dream of flute-led exotica featuring Latin jazz luminaries like Eddie Cano and Laurindo Almeida. The Markko Polo Adventurers, a studio project led by ‘Roots’ and ‘The Baby’ (1972) composer Gerald Fried, released ‘Orienta’ (1959) (along with a sensational sleeve!), a tongue-in-cheek take on Eastern musical clichés with five top percussionists and a wink to the hi-fi crowd.
These weren’t just novelty acts. They were working musicians, arrangers, and composers who poured real technique and imagination into their craft. They may not have changed the world, but they certainly soundtracked a few surreal evenings, and how many can say that in 2025?
Daz Lawrence