An extraordinarily prolific jazz collective, with nearly ten albums spanning as many years, De-Phazz do elegantly funky lounge music and they do it very well. Although their albums are not era-defining worldbeaters (their hybrid form of highly competent jazz/funk lends itself to early 90s acid lounge acts like Incognito and Corduroy ) they are consistently cool with a capital C. Once again a loose collective of musicians from Germany (what exactly do they lace the baby food with over there?) centered on a prominent producer and remixer, De-Phazz have a smoky and gentle sound that evolves in delicate layers of echoed vocals and incredibly tight instrumentation. This 2007 release continues the groups long and languid journey to the soft center of laid back, groove-based jazz with little variation or experimentation. If anything De-Phazz are exemplarily models of the age-old notion. ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’, despite the album’s ‘Twang’ hypothesis (a strange and broad sweeping theory in the bio that suggests rock n’ roll revolves around the guitar ‘twang’, hence the title), which apart from the occasional guitar strum brooding over a lazy groove, rarely raises its head.

Upon hearing the albums first single Hell Alright, fans might be a little perturbed; over a spaghetti western groove and spooky Duane Eddie type guitar, vocalist Barbara Lahr sneers deliciously with hands on hips, “I slap your face, no pain no gain. I wreck your guitar and scratch up your records”. But it’s a short lived moment as De-Phazz never really stray from their overly familiar territory. Cuts like the plodding piano ballad Nonsensical Thing with it’s smoky strings and sassy trumpets and It Will Turn Out, a hands-in-the-air celebration of lounge cheese, may show elements of ‘twang’ but it’s run so heavily through De-Phazz’s sickly sweet filter it still comes out sounding like intelligent elevator music. The percussion, rather than the guitar, is what holds sway on this album making it a little stronger than you think. On Devils Music, tight samba rhythms drive a cool-as-you-like groove into territory that is almost homage to David Lynch’s favorite composer Angelo Badalamenti, and on the short but fascinating How High The Hat, upright bass wrestles muted drums and snares into a murky swamp of reverb.

Elsewhere throughout it is high standard groove based music with few stylistic surprises. What you expect from this release will determine how much stock you hold in this genre of music; if you think that the Acid Jazz label was the greatest label of the nineties, yearn for days when the only summer festival was Vibes On A Summers Day and think Jamiroquai is the modern day Prince well, this one is defiantly for you. However, if you think Incognito were good for nothing except to soundtrack you trying on new jeans at Westfield, don’t own a single Pulp Fusion album and think dinner parties are something your parents have when they are bored, then steer clear. Days Of Twang is very accomplished, but only in its own universe.