_{Photos by Nicholas Polimenakos}

Skerik is to saxophone what Mike Patton is to voice: sinister, experimental, sometimes innocuous, mostly hilarious. Last night was the final show in his August Monday night residency at the venerable Owl & Thistle (a funky, friendly, dimly-lit Irish pub Skerik once referred to as his “crazy uncle’s basement”) and the two hours of music he played swerved all over the map.

Lanky, soul-patched, possessing a ski-jump chin, Skerik is a Muppet, or maybe a psychedelically-enhanced Loony Toon. His best music explodes with cartoonish blorts and squarks but leans towards the darker corners of Eastern European and Middle Eastern tonalities. Like Patton, he’s got an evil streak, and he’s at his best when he embraces his inner freak.

The last song of his first set—the first I caught last night—was the perfect example. “Sneaking music,” as one friend suggested—a soundtrack for a comically slow, tippy-toe chase down a Technicolor rabbit hole. It was all horns—badass multi-hornman Craig Flory baritone and melodica, a dude on pocket trumpet, a clarinet, and Skerik on tenor—bouncing rubbery notes between each other like a beach ball. There was something familiar, something Kletz-noir, about this all-horn interlude. Eventually Joe Doria came in on Hammond and drummer D’Vonne Lewis—easily Seattle’s brightest young drummer—came stalking back in for a raucous finale.

The second set roller coastered; again, it was during the less straight-ahead moments that the ensemble really took off. A few sorta straight up jazz numbers—inflected with funk via Doria and Lewis—were OK, but the weird monster mash surf jazz scrunk was by far the most interesting. Early on, a flautist and flugelhornist hovered to the side of the stage and added bobbing punctuation to Skerik’s flights. Flory—underrated, a huge talent in his own right—switched from bari to clari while another guy—Hans Teuber?—tweeked out some electronic washes. Another all-horn breakdown was a highlight, though I could listen to just Doria playing foot-pedal bass and Lewis on drums all night and feel full. There were a bunch of killer moments—dueling melodicas, for one; Lewis’ drum solo, for another—throughout the second set. These guys know how to put on a show.

All of them—talented, driven a bit batty by Skerik’s unbridled ecelcticism—are awesome to have playing in this city. The Owl & Thistle was warm, lived-in, a real downtownish kinda vibe that catered to an attentive roomful of family and fans. Casual, like jazz should be and so often is not. People seemed to recognize the rightness of the setting last night; one dude was doing the Mr. Bean right in front of the stage, entranced by Skerik’s horn. (This is a full-body effect Skerik has on certain men, described by the same friend as above as “the Skerection.” Court, that’s spot-on.) Skerik himself is a larger than life character, so it’s no wonder he attracts more of the same to his gigs.