BURGAMY-HANCOCK NEW ORIGINATORS, Down in Honky Tonk Town

New Orleans jazz was never meant to sit still. Its magic lives in the push and pull between instruments, the sly musical asides, the sudden bursts of collective energy and the sense that the entire band is having a conversation at once. That spirit comes alive on Down in Honky Tonk Town, the debut by the nine-piece Burgamy-Hancock New Originators, where a deep affection for early Crescent City jazz meets the spontaneity of musicians who clearly enjoy listening and responding to one another.

Co-led by cornetist and historian Colin Hancock and banjoist, vocalist and song stylist Hunter Burgamy, the ensemble digs into repertoire associated with figures including Jelly Roll Morton, King Oliver, the New Orleans Rhythm Kings and other pioneers. But this fascinating set artfully transcends a mere exercise of museum-piece reconstruction. The arrangements have enough room for personalities to emerge, with Hancock’s cornet frequently serving as a buoyant focal point while clarinet, trombone, saxophones, piano, banjo, tuba and drums continually reshape the sound around him.

“Sensation Rag” establishes the album’s personality immediately, with darting cornet, animated clarinet and punchy percussion creating a spirited exchange before the whole ensemble takes off. The contrast between high cornet lines and deep tuba accents gives the arrangement a wonderfully elastic quality, while brief solo turns keep the texture shifting. On Jelly Roll Morton’s “Buffalo Blues (Mr. Joe),” the pace settles into a looser stomp, with banjo and piano adding a jaunty foundation beneath the conversational horns.

That collective interplay becomes even more pronounced on “Baby Brown,” where cornet, clarinet, piano, banjo, trombone and tuba trade short bursts like musicians passing musical jokes around the room. “Cryin’ for the Carolines” provides a welcome change of emotional color, pairing Burgamy’s plaintive vocal with muted trombone, darker tuba and lighter instrumental touches. The tension between the melancholy story and the almost playful accompaniment gives the song an unexpectedly human character.

The title track is pure celebration, driven by brisk banjo and drums, bright cornet and clarinet harmonies, and a succession of animated solo spots. Elsewhere, “Working Man Blues” and “I Never Knew What a Gal Could Do” demonstrate how naturally the band handles the intricate, overlapping language of early jazz, while “Squeeze Me” brings a more relaxed, slyly romantic mood.

What makes Down in Honky Tonk Town work is its sense of interaction. These musicians aren’t simply playing century old songs; they’re finding fresh ways to make them breathe, bounce and occasionally surprise. The result is a lively reminder that traditional New Orleans jazz remains less a fixed style than an ongoing musical conversation.