Dinah Balada O Johnu Brownovi by Pražský Dixieland: A Czech Jazz Gem That Still Swings
Let’s cut to the chase—this album is a treasure chest of Dixieland magic. Released way back in 1961 in what was then Czechoslovakia, Dinah Balada O Johnu Brownovi by Pražský Dixieland feels like stepping into a smoky jazz club where everyone speaks with an accent you can’t quite place but love anyway. It’s raw, unpolished, and dripping with soul—a perfect snapshot of its time.
The band? Oh man, they’re tight. Z. Mayer on clarinet gives those reeds a workout that’ll make your ears perk up like a dog hearing dinner being served. And K. Danda on cornet? Dude knows how to blow his horn without blowing it outta proportion. But let’s zoom in on two tracks that stuck in my brain like gum under a barstool.
First off, there’s “Balada O Johnu Brownovi.” This one rolls in slow and steady, kinda like a riverboat floating down the Vltava River. The trombone from F. Kunc adds this mournful, almost cinematic vibe—it’s not flashy, just honest. Like someone telling you a story over a pint of beer at a pub table. You don’t need fireworks when you’ve got heart, right? By the time the whole band kicks in, it’s impossible not to tap your foot or nod along. It’s the kind of tune that makes you think about history, struggle, and maybe even that weird dream you had last night.
Then there’s “Dinah,” which flips the script entirely. If “Balada” is introspective, “Dinah” is throwing a party in your living room. L. Šváb on guitar lays down some riffs so smooth they could butter toast. Meanwhile, Š. Jaroschy keeps things groovy on drums, proving he didn’t get the memo about staying chill. There’s this moment near the middle where the clarinet and cornet trade licks like old friends arguing over who ate the last koláč—it’s playful, chaotic, and absolutely delightful.
What really gets me about this record is how alive it sounds. No fancy studio tricks here, folks. Just musicians doing their thing for Supraphon, a label known for giving Eastern European artists a platform during the Cold War era. Listening to this feels like eavesdropping on a jam session rather than sitting through a polished performance. And honestly? That’s what makes it special.
So yeah, if you’re into jazz—or just curious about how Czechoslovakia did Dixieland—you gotta check this out. It’s not gonna change your life or anything (unless you’re super into obscure vinyl), but it’ll definitely give you something to smile about. Plus, isn’t it wild to imagine these guys playing while Prague Castle loomed in the distance?
Oh, and here’s a random thought to leave you with: I bet nobody in the band expected people would still be talking about their music sixty years later. Life’s funny like that, huh?
