If you've gone out to more than a couple of gigs involving local musicians over the past year, there's a good chance you've seen Cameron Kinghorn perform in any of a wide variety of scenarios.
That was Kinghorn singing Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas" at the New Standards' holiday shows and "How Come U Don't Call Me Anymore?" at First Avenue's Prince block party. During last weekend's Twin Cities Jazz Festival, he blew his trumpet with Black Market Brass and the JazzMN Orchestra. He also added backup vocals for Dessa's Minnesota Orchestra concert in April, and he sang and trumpeted at 89.3 the Current's birthday parties at First Ave in January.
Amid all that, Kinghorn has been fine-tuning a debut album by the one-and-only act in which he serves as frontman: Nooky Jones, a playful and tastefully sexed-up R&B/funk ensemble that he formed with some of his bandmates from the aforementioned brass and jazz bands.
"This is the one I've really been working toward," Kinghorn said, "the one I'm most invested in personally and creatively."
Nooky Jones takes over Icehouse in Minneapolis for a two-night party Saturday and Sunday, touting its self-titled record. The album's release kicks off a busy summer for the band that also includes a set at next weekend's Basilica Block Party, a slot the following weekend at Bauhaus Brew Lab's third-anniversary bash and then a two-night stand at the Minnesota State Fair's West End stage in late August.
Recorded over a year's time, the 11-song collection finds the lanky 27-year-old journeyman diving headlong into the sultry vocal stylings of Hathaway, Billy "Me and Mrs. Jones" Paul and more modern smoothie singers like Maxwell. There are some sweet and tender songs on it, like the love-at-first-sight single "Hello." And then there are tunes that will make more timid listeners blush, including the slow-grinding, falsetto-spiked "Sweet Wine."
The fact that the record turned into such a lively, libido-driven affair is rather surprising when you learn that Kinghorn grew up in a conservative Mormon household in Circle Pines. The Centennial High grad said just being a kid of color was distinctive enough to make him something of an outcast in the northern Twin Cities suburb.
He made the decision to leave the Mormon faith at age 19, when youths are expected to fulfill missionary service for the church. Instead, he opted for four years of studying music at the University of Minnesota, after singing and playing in the choir since before grade school.
