Alright, let’s dive into this old gem of an album—My Regular Gal That Saxophone Waltz by Ed Kirkby and His Orchestra. Released way back in 1928, it’s like stepping into a time machine to the golden age of jazz and pop in Australia. The record label? Parlophone. Yep, the same folks who’d later bring us The Beatles. But here, they’re giving us something completely different—a waltz-heavy, sax-soaked slice of musical nostalgia.
First off, I gotta talk about “That Saxophone Waltz.” Man, this track is smooth. Like butter-on-hot-toast smooth. It’s one of those tunes where you can practically picture people in fancy dresses and suits twirling around some grand ballroom. The saxophone really takes center stage here (pun totally intended), weaving through the melody like it owns the place. It’s got that easygoing charm that makes you wanna grab someone for a spin—or just sit back with a drink if dancing ain’t your thing. Honestly, it sticks with me because it feels so alive, even after all these years. You can almost hear the energy of the band feeding off each other, like they’re having the time of their lives while recording.
Then there’s “My Regular Gal,” which hits different but still packs a punch. Les Reis handles the vocals on this one, and his voice has this warm, crackly quality that screams vintage charm. It’s not perfect—it’s kinda rough around the edges—but that’s what makes it special. He sings about love in a way that feels genuine, no frills or over-the-top drama. Just straight-up affection for “his regular gal.” There’s something comforting about how simple and heartfelt it is. It reminds me of those little moments we take for granted, like sharing a laugh with someone who gets you.
What strikes me most about this album is how human it feels. These weren’t polished studio pros trying to reinvent music—they were just doing their thing, letting the notes flow naturally. And yeah, sure, it might sound dated compared to today’s slick productions, but isn’t that part of its appeal? Listening to it feels like flipping through an old photo album—you notice the quirks, the imperfections, and somehow that makes it more real.
Here’s the kicker though: as much as I enjoyed revisiting this piece of history, I couldn’t help but wonder—what would Ed Kirkby think if he knew people were still talking about his work nearly a century later? Would he laugh? Be amazed? Or maybe shrug it off and say, “Eh, it was just another gig.” Either way, hats off to him and his crew for creating something that still resonates, even in our fast-paced, playlist-driven world.
