Surely the moment PeeWee Russell and Bill Davison moved into the Ken, you'd thing jazz lovers would stampede the place. They didn't Monday night; the good word hadn't travelled far enough. But by the end of this week, the Ken should be packed every night, Most people have never heard of Davison, as he's made only a few records and these for private labels, but PeeWee Russell is undoubtedly one of the greatest jazz clarinetists of all time.

You can argue all night about whether Benny Goodman or PeeWee Russell is better, but the fact remains that PeeWee is already an immortal. Goodman has more polish and control, but PeeWee's playing has more soul and more guts. You'll. not find two more opposite characters in the band business today. Strange, because they are both from Chicago and sounded very similar in their early stages. Goodman has long since branched off, but PeeWee continues in the same strain.

If you've never heard of PeeWee, much less heard him play, you are missing a great experience in life. Even if you don't like jazz, even if you think Glenn Miller is the greatest thing on earth, it is worth your precious while to spend an evening listening to Russell. For PeeWee is a real character. Not an Artier Shaw who points his clarinet way up high to impress crowds, but a PeeWee Russell who leans way back and closes his eyes because he can play better that way.

You can also argue all night as to whether is a Chicago style, but Davison's six-piece combo plays differently than Scabby Lewis at the Savoy, and differently than Red Allen or Frankic Newton, whose bands were recently in Boston. They play old Dixieland tunes like "Fidgety Feet" and "Oh Baby," and blow the roof off in the process. But you don't mind the plaster falling all around you. Not when Davison plays cornet out of the side of his mouth, with's wonderful husky flavor like Berigan or Spanier. Not when PeeWee chortles his notes sometimes with an amazingly dirty tone and sometimes with a tone like molten silver. Not when Gene Schracder bangs out a fine barrel-house piano.

You may notice the lack of a trombone, but the band is the first to admit it. "If we only had Brunics here," they say. If they had Brunies, they'd have the three biggest clowns in the business, Brunics, PeeWee and Davison.

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If you don't have time enough to hear Davison's band at the Ken, you can judge for yourself next Wednesday night at Winthrop House, or over the Crimson Network. A jam session will be held, featuring instrumentalists around the College. Bill Davison has graciously consented to bring part of his band and play for the occasion.