LIVIN' THE HIGH LIFE WITH MONTY BANKS

By Armand Nex

It was late one evening, and I found myself sitting in the corner of a run-down establishment where, amid the shouts for the cocktail waitress, the tinkling sound of ice in glasses, and the clicking of cigarette lighters, I found myself talking to a genuine maestro of Northwest Lounge Culture--keyboard player and song stylist, Mr. Monty Banks. Monty, a man of some notoriety, and simple pleasures (usually from a distillery), was in a reflective mood as he began to talk about life in the front seat of the Lounge Culture limousine cruising toward the new millennium.

In the murky past Monty had been a spawn of the damp and dingy Puget Sound region, and--emerging from this miasma--had made the de rigueur trip to NYC to seek enlightenment and find himself. Living in the Big Apple, Monty became part of the art scene, writing plays and some far-off-Broadway theater pieces. As an experimental performer on the art scene he struggled to make a mark for himself in various media, multimedia, and cable TV projects, reaching a kind of pinnacle by doing piano accompaniment to silent film classics in the renowned Cooper Union Hall.

The Northwest still exercised some hold on Mr. Banks, and in 1991 he exited from his East Coast starving artist role to assume the West Coast version of the same. Rummaging through the dark comers of his parents' attic, Monty uncovered his grandfather's musty old accordion (which he had learned to play along with piano as a kid) and realized that with this instrument he could take his act directly to the people. A Seattle pedestrian strolling on Capitol Hill's main drag at that time would have espied Mr. Banks, disguised as a clown, busking for dollars in front of the Seafirst building, playing an assortment of jazz, folk, and novelty tunes. Monty had to "leave New York in order to make it on Broadway' (as he puts it).

It was on Broadway that Monty ran into Jeff Holstrom, itinerant drummer, who was interested in the same kind of Forties and Fifties tunes that seemed to have been neglected by popular culture at that time. They formed a team and tried to line up live shows, but it didn't work out in an era when 'Grunge" was still the Big Thing; and all the venues were looking for the proverbial Rocker acts. They performed as a duo, piano and drums, at different nursing homes (which Monty still does), two to three times a week through the early Nineties. It was all part of the senior citizens' activity programs. They played both the high and low end of the nursing home circuit and found it to be more enjoyable than they had expected. The old people knew the music they were listening to and were very good and honest critics. Monty picked up quite a few tips in his discussions with these sage auditors.

Jeff Holstrom's grandparents had once owned a roller rink in the Fifties and Sixties, where his granny had been an organist and DJ. Delving into her archives from those years, she sent Jeff and Monty tapes and sheet music of Big Band tunes, which they were able to learn and use in their gigs. Eventually Monty and Jeff added a few horn players to their duo and were able to play in some Seattle clubs as a diversion and novelty between Rock acts.

They played some lounge and swing-a-billy to the crowds, who were surprisingly good-natured about the contrast. While doing one of their nursing home shows, an elderly woman named "Lovey," who had once been a showgirl at Harlem's Cotton Club, and claimed to have hung out with Duke Ellington, gave Monty and his group their first name: "Jumpin' with the Hot Men."

Monty and the "Hot Men," through friends of friends and sailing chums of Jeff, began to play at yacht clubs, rich private parties, expensive weddings, and a number of chi-chi affairs. Monty also became popular with the exotic dance and cross-dressing community and played at several more esoteric functions... The OK Hotel in downtown Seattle was the site of one of Monty's first regular jobs where he was part of their standard "Cabaret" nights in 1995. Later he moved to the Showbox where he became the designated piano player on "Barfly" night every Sunday, then Mondays, in late 1996. Initially, Mark Mitchell both sang and served as Barfly host, and later lounge diva Teresa Hannam, of the Nightcaps, joined as a regular. Monty filled in as the third string saloon singer of the night. Barfly lasted about 6 months until the cavernous Showbox, needing more event-type performances to meet its high cost overhead, ended it.

In early 1996, Monty met lounge impresario, Terence Gunn, who helped him line up a monthly job at another Downtown club, the Back Door Lounge (503 3rd Ave). Later this became a steady Thursday night gig with his then renamed group, "Monty Banks and the Sharla-Tones." Returning from a trip to Vegas that year, where they played at the Double Down bar and gambling establishment, a place well off the proverbial "Strip" they were re-christened the "High Rollers" in keeping with the loose night club/casino scene they had found there…