Irving Aaronson and His Commanders (1928) - This band is way too loud

Should you watch this today? If you like jazz or seeing how weird early movies were, then yes. It is only about nine minutes long, so you won't lose much of your life. If you hate crackly audio and guys in suits acting like toddlers, you will probably want to skip it.

I found this while looking through some old Vitaphone shorts. It is one of those early sound films where the camera just sits there. It does not move at all. It feels like you are watching a play from the very back row of a theater.

Irving Aaronson stands in the middle. He looks like he is trying to hold back a laugh the whole time. His band, the Commanders, are all wearing these matching outfits that look slightly too tight. I think they are supposed to be sailors or something?

They start playing "An' Furthermore." It is loud. The sound quality is actually okay for 1928, but you can hear the hiss of the disc in the background. It adds to the vibe, honestly.

The drummer is the best part. He is doing all these trick shots with his sticks. He hits the cymbals and then spins. He looks like he drank about five cups of coffee right before the director yelled action.

One of the horn players makes a face at the camera. It is a very quick moment. I wonder if Nick Grinde, the director, even noticed it. Or maybe they only had one take and had to keep it in.

There is no plot. It is just music. But it feels more alive than some of the other shorts from that year, like A Musicale Melange. That one feels a bit more stiff.

The band starts singing in harmony. They sound like they are shouting at a ghost. It is very high energy. Almost too much energy for a Tuesday afternoon.

I noticed one guy in the back row who looks bored. He is just blowing into his tuba and looking at the ceiling. I wonder what he was thinking about. Probably lunch.

It reminds me a little bit of In the Movies because of that raw, experimental feeling. Everything was new back then. Nobody knew where to put the microphones yet.

There is a piano solo that goes on a bit. Irving looks very proud of himself during this part. He does this little hand gesture that is super dramatic for no reason.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Irving Aaronson and His Commanders (1929) through its definitive frames.

The whole thing ends very abruptly. They just stop playing and the screen goes black. It is kind of jarring. No credits, no goodbye.

If you have seen The Smile Wins, you know how these old shorts can feel a bit empty. But Aaronson and his crew bring enough noise to fill the room.

The lighting is very flat. It makes everyone look a bit sweaty. It was probably very hot in that studio with all those big lamps. I can almost smell the hair grease through the screen.

I liked the part where the saxophonists all stood up at once. They did it with such precision. You can tell they practiced that move a thousand times in some dusty rehearsal hall.

It is not a masterpiece. It is just a recording of a band that is long gone. But there is something nice about seeing them move. They look so happy to be on film.

I would recommend watching it on a big screen if you can. Just to see the details on the instruments. The brass is very shiny.

It makes me want to look up more stuff from Nick Grinde. He seems to have a talent for letting people just be weird. Even if the camera is stuck in one spot.

Don't expect a story. Don't expect fancy editing. Just sit back and let the jazz hit you in the face for ten minutes. 🎷

Actually, the way the singer looks at the lens is kind of creepy. He has these wide eyes. Like he is trying to look into your soul from 1928. It is a bit much.

Anyway, it is a fun little relic. Better than sitting through a long silent film like The White Moth if you are in a rush. It gets straight to the point.

One last thing. The shoes. Look at their shoes. They are immaculate. I don't know how they kept them that white while jumping around.