Sass and Class

As kids they logged a lot of time in front of the tube watching the late show. Gable, not Dylan, became their hero; Carousel, not Hair, their fantasy musical. Grown up, their look is zoot-suit city: double-breasted and pin-stripe for the gents, shoulder pads and scarlet lipstick for the lady. The New York quintet call themselves Dr. Buzzard's Original Savannah Band, and their RCA debut LP is this season's breakaway disco act. The sound: musical gliss that ripples across five decades and combines Hollywood star dust and big-band elegance with Afro-Cuban cross rhythms.

"Ever watch those old movies?" asks Stony Browder Jr., 28. "Bogart, Garfield —they believed in things. There was music when they walked." Stony, resplendent in bow tie, watch chain and beret, writes Savannah's music. He admits it takes him two hours to press the crease in his pants, coordinate his colors and get his chains together. His pal, "SugarCoated" Andy Hernandez, 26, nods. "A lot of people think we dress like this only for performances," says Sugar-Coated, who plays vibes. In the '60s, he explains, society drifted further and further away from his dreams. So he turned the clock backward. While rock musicians continue to play in their undershirts, Sugar-Coated decks out in a three-piece suit and a gray fedora.

Husky Alto. Drawing on pop's musical past, Savannah synthesizes the sounds of yesterday—Count Basic, Hoagy Carmichael, Carmen Miranda—with its own swank brand of soul. Strains of Whispering (1920) are grafted onto Cherchez la Femme, a disco number bumping along to Mickey Sevilla's sassy drumbeat. A lilting intro evoking Glenn Miller evolves into the hustle smash I'll Play the Fool.

Somehow it works, Savannah's zany blend of romance, dress-up and the late late show. The songs are mostly about love. But August Darnell's lyrics, shaped by Singer Cory Daye's sweet husky alto, extend beyond the "boogie down" formula. Cherchez la Femme tells the story of a man who takes two jobs to spring his girl from debt, only to have her seek solace elsewhere while he is gone.

Until a recent publicity junket, the closest these New Yorkers ever got to Georgia was a tale-spinning, small-time '40s music man. "Dr. Buzzard, who managed our bands in high school, got us off on Savannah with devilishly decadent stories about his own band days in the South," explains Stony. But Savannah's newly won popularity, bringing with it TV guest appearances and a national tour the first of the year, may even get them to Hollywood. Right now Savannah is hunting for backers so that they can finish a film they have already started. According to Stony, it is a 1940s Dead End Kids musical. Guess who plays the brats.