ORGAN DONOR

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I fully intend to write about guitarist Nigel Price and his new album in my next column for the Camden New Journal, but I know I simply won’t have room to do him justice. Not only is Price our finest interpreter of the legacy of Wes Montgomery, Kenny Burrell and (pre-pop) George Benson, he  has been instrumental in maintaining the health of jazz in Britain.

(Above: Nigel Price. Photo by John McMurtrie)

We in London tend to think that jazz revolves around Ronnie Scott’s, the Pizza Express, The 606, The Vortex, The Jazz Cafe and a handful of other venues. These might form the beating heart of British jazz, but the lungs, the organ that keep the music breathing, is found in the myriad of small clubs scattered around Britain. They act as incubators for new talent that will find its way to London eventually, but also offer a network where established players can always get a gig. Without the likes of Peggy’s Skylight in Nottingham, The Verdict in Brighton, Splash Point in Seaford and Eastbourne, the Bear Club in Luton, the Band on the Wall, Manchester, Jazz Jurassica, Lyme Regis, Palladino’s in Cardiff, the Blue Lamp, Aberdeen and many, many more, the life of a gigging jazz musician would be even more unsustainable than it is in the current climate, where rapacious Spotify has stripped out much of the traditional income stream.

These clubs are often run by enthusiasts and volunteers  who wouldn’t recognise the word profit if it was on a Scrabble board before them (11 points by the way). Such is the precariousness of their existence that Covid threatened to kill some off as efficiently as it did those in care homes. It was why Price set up the Grassroots Jazz charity (https://www.grassrootsjazz.com), which fundraises and gives grants directly to venues. Recipients have included St Ives Jazz Club; Sound Cellar, Poole; Bebop Club, Bristol and Milestones, Lowestoft. Quite why he hasn’t been given some kind of government-sponsored gong for Services to Jazz is beyond me (although he and his group have won plenty of awards over the years).  

His latest tour is with his Organ Trio to showcase the band’s new record It’s On! It is criss-crossing the country, calling at many of those self-same grassroots venues outside of London (although for those in the capital there’s an album launch at Pizza Express Soho on October 5th – https://www.pizzaexpresslive.com/whats-on/nigel-price-organ-trio). For the full list of gigs nationwide see https://nigethejazzer.com/.

It’s On by the Nigel Price Organ trio is a very good album indeed – he’s not just a fine guitarist but his fellow members (Ross Stanley on Hammond, Joel Barford on drums) are at the top of their game. The hefty touring schedule that the trio undertakes has given them real emotional, rhythmic and harmonic connection. In his sleeve notes the guitarist calls the collection of tunes on It’s On! a “mixed bag” but it’s a cohesive exploration of classic organ trio material, re-written, reworked and revamped by Price to give it a more modern feel, while not ignoring the voicings and killer swing that made guitar/organ/drums such a key feature of the jazz repertoire. Buy a physical copy if you can rather than streaming it. You can purchase It’s On! and his other records on vinyl and CD at Price’s website above. And then catch the trio live and help keep jazz in Britain breathing.

BIG BAND THEORY

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The Tom Smith Big Band plays at the Pizza Express at lunchtime on Sunday October 5 (https://www.pizzaexpresslive.com/whats-on/the-tom-smith-big-band). This is a very classy ensemble of top players and Tom is a talented arranger and composer – praised by one of his influences, my friend and collaborator Guy Barker – who writes evocative themes and charts for his stellar soloists to shine over. Check out his album A Year in the Life, a first rate jazz ode to London, which includes players of the calibre of saxophonists Graeme Blevins and Alex Garnett and trumpeters Tom Walsh and Freddie Gavita. I asked Tom Smith at the time of his last Pizza gig if you had to be crazy to run a big band in this economic climate, given the challenges of pulling together so many in-demand players. This is his Big Band Theory.

“You’re right that it’s a huge job, but there is something absolutely mesmerising about watching a group of 18+ musicians working together in harmony. Anyone who’s seen a big band performing live will know this immensely, especially in London where you can get right up and close to the performers and feel every note in your bones. In this country we really do have some of the finest big band musicians in the world – musicians who’ve studied this music all their life inside and out and know exactly what to do to elevate it to the highest level. There is a huge appetite in this country to experience this music, and we are in a new age of big band composers, especially in this country – Nikki Iles, Julian Siegel, Emma Rawicz, Dan Casimir, Sean Gibbs, Charlie Bates/Helena Debono, Callum Au, Olivia Murphy, Josephine Davies..and I could go on, everyone approaching it from totally different angles, with so much experimentation and new ideas.

“For my money the classic big band line-up is one of the all-time great large ensembles for the simple reason that it’s a self-balancing acoustic ensemble. In the hands of experienced players 5 saxes, 4 trumpets, 4 trombones, piano, bass, drums and guitar can perfectly balance with each other without the need for amplification, and this gives the musicians and the composer a HUGE amount of control over how the music is expressed and played. We also have access to a huge number of timbres – the saxes can be harsh, melodic, airy, trumpets bombastic and regal, trombones piercing and full bodied, and that’s not to mention the extra colours we can get with mutes, moving the saxes onto flutes and clarinets, and giving the trumpet players flugelhorns. The rhythm section is very adaptable and wide ranging, giving you the option to move from 20s jazz to 60s rock, from psychedelic guitars and orchestral percussion. The greatest big bands in the world consistently sell out huge concert halls, and I see a future where the big band is regarded as equally as important as a full classical orchestra – my dream is to write a film score using a big band as my main writing vehicle! (Below: Freddie Gavita).

     

“What I love about being a saxophone soloist on top of a big band is the amount of support it gives you. The music has a great range of movement, timbres, emotional weight and texture and this gives me so much to work with. I find myself playing off of the most different things every time I play with the band – the way a specific trombone chord resonates at a certain point, the sound of a muted trumpet playing with a clarinet can inspire me and push me in new unique ways each time. I absolutely love playing in smaller groups as well, there’s more options for where the music can go and your improvisations can move into freer territories, but sometimes the magnificence of a well-oiled machine like a big band is hard to beat…”

     And if that doesn’t whet your appetite for some of Tom’s big band adventures, I don’t know what will.

FAREWELL, MY LOVELY

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I have been in Ronnie Scott’s many, many times, but never on a Saturday afternoon and have certainly never had my heart broken there. Ronnie’s is all about elation, not regret. But then, on a recent Saturday, I was about to give something precious away. An instrument.

         (PHOTO: JONATHAN FUTRELL)

Some years ago, I was working on a novel [Trans Am] set in a trailer park in the US. I wanted the hero to be a trumpet player and, at some point, to have to sell his horn in order to fund a search for a young lad who had gone missing from the park. I tracked down top trumpet player Guy Barker, whom I had seen and heard at Ornette Coleman and Billy Cobham gigs and asked him if he would help with some technical details. Yes, he said. When we went to get taxis home, it turned out we lived in parallel roads in Muswell Hill (he’s in Chiswick now and I’m in Kentish Town). We became friends and have even collaborated on projects since then.

         I eventually bought myself a rather careworn trumpet and set about practicing not just the playing but the stripping down and cleaning rituals (prior to the hero hocking it). My wife Deborah even bought me lessons, from a young man called Henry Collins who went on to play in the Amy Winehouse Band. In fact, he still does – they are regulars at places like Koko in Camden and are currently touring what we used to call The Continent.

         When I finally delivered the book, my editor loved it. Apart from one thing. “Lose the trumpet player,” he said. “But I’ve just learned to play Love Theme from Spartacus,” I protested, to no avail. My protagonist became a guitarist. But I didn’t buy a guitar. I wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.

         During the course of my over-research into the trumpet, I had mentioned how much I loved the warmer, more melancholic sound of the slightly larger flugelhorn, as played by Kenny Wheeler, Art Farmer and Ian Carr. Me and my big mouth. I had a big birthday coming up and, unbeknownst to me, Deb plotted to buy me one.

         She went to a well-known brass instrument and explained what she wanted and was duly presented with a shiny Flugel on the counter top. “Hold on,” she said. “I’m not sure. Do you mind if I make a phone call?” The assistant shrugged. Deb called Guy, who was in Hong Kong. “Put the server on,” he said. Deb handed her phone over, saying “It’s Guy Barker.”

         The assistant went pale. After some spluttering, he said “No, Guy. Yes, Guy. You’re right, this isn’t the flugelhorn she’s looking for. I’ll sort it.”

         And he did. It’s a lovely instrument, but I simply don’t do it justice. I sort of played it at my daughter’s wedding recently, although luckily Guy stepped out from behind a curtain to perform Cole Porter’s I Love You as intended.

      Guy Barker  (PHOTO: JAMES CHRISTOS)

  It has mostly been back in its case since then, although I sometimes lift it out to give it a polish and oil the valves. The thing is, hanging around with Guy and people like Nathan Bray and Tom Rees-Roberts and listening to Mark Kavuma, Poppy Daniels or Sheila Maurice-Grey, I know I’ll never be in the same trumpet universe as them, even if I did have the wherewithal to put in the hard hours. And the other thing is, that flugel should be played. It demands to be played. I feel like those people who buy beautiful vintage cars, lock them in a garage  and never drive them.

         Which is how I ended up at Ronnie Scott’s on that recent Saturday afternoon. For the past ten years the club has run a non-profit charitable foundation which supports jazz and young jazz musicians. One of the initiatives is the Musical Instrument Amnesty, which happens every two years or so. You turn up at the club and hand over your unwanted, unloved, criminally underplayed saxophone, guitar, trumpet, violin..whatever. Ronnies then finds a home for it with a struggling musician. Where do they end up? Ada Ologbosere of the RS Foundation explains:

      “We distribute instruments through our extended networks, primarily by holding school workshops at the club and providing grants to youth music charities. For example, this year, we funded several organisations across the country, including Serious Trust, to host jazz-focused workshops during the EFG London Jazz Festival. We have also committed to ongoing funding for Kinetika Bloco, a youth music charity comprising young brass and woodwind players, drummers, steel pan, and dancers. 

Our outreach program, ‘Ronnie’s On The Road,’ allows us to partner with various schools and organisations across London. This initiative enables us to connect with young adults who, for various reasons, cannot or choose not to leave their borough.”

         It isn’t just the UK – Ronnie’s has sent instruments to Africa via Brass For Africa – https://www.brassforafrica.org/) and to  Europe (via Sistema Europe – https://www.sistemaeurope.org/). So, who knows where my flugel will end up? Well, I hope I will.

       I arrived quite late in the afternoon of donations and the room was pretty rammed with around a hundred instruments. The standard jazz joke would be to say they were all trombones, but there were guitars, keyboards, drum sets, violins, trumpets… and the odd trombone. Each instrument is assigned a number at check in and those that are particularly notable are given a star. My flugel got one of those, which means Ronnie’s will do its very best to keep track of where it ends up and who will play it. Ada kindly offered me the chance to go up onto that hallowed stage and give one last toot, but my mouth went dry at the very thought, especially as RS Orchestra’s estimable Pete Long was in the room checking out the instruments. So, I simply waved it off as it disappeared upstairs.

         And yes, I did ask Deborah’s permission before saying goodbye to her gift.

You can contact the Ronnie Scott’s Charitable Foundation on foundation@ronniescotts.co.uk to find out when the next amnesty will be, although it is also announced on social media – just follow the club on whatever platform (links on http://www.ronniescotts.co.uk). But if you have an instrument burning a hole in its case right now, North London’s Young Music Makers charity (which offers subsidised music lessons) will take it off your hands see: https://www.youngmusicmakers.co.uk/.

JACK BOND

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It wasn’t until recently that I discovered that film director Jack Bond had died at the age of 87 on December 21st, 2024. It was a shock, because I had last spoken to him a couple of months ago on the phone, and he seemed as irrepressible as ever. We said we would meet up soon, but soon never came.

      I first met him back in the mid-nineties, when researching a short story for Esquire. It was about “Williams” the man who won the inaugural Monaco GP in 1929 and who later became a Special Operations Executive operative in wartime France, alongside two other talented race drivers – Robert Benoist and Jean-Pierre Wimille.

       I had begun my research by contacting Gervaise Cowell, the SOE Advisor to the Foreign & Commonwealth Office, an archivist role, SOE itself having been wrapped up with possibly undue haste at the end of WW2. Frustratingly, the files I obtained were heavily redacted. At the time I thought Cowell was simply being wilfully obstructive, although after his death in 2000 I discovered that he was something of a Smiley figure – he had been Our Man in Moscow in the early sixties. I think secrecy was in his blood.

      One day Valerie, who was Cowell’s assistant in the SOE office, called and told me someone else, a Jack Bond, was researching the same resistance circuit, at which my heart sank. (In fact, there were three of us – Joe Saward, whose non-fiction The Grand Prix Saboteurs book on the drivers is highly recommended – was already taking an interest.) Valerie offered me Jack Bond’s name and number. I rang him and he invited me to his office near the British Museum.

      Somehow (that word features a lot in any account of Jack’s career), somehow he had managed to persuade a well-known hotel chain to open a film division, with him in charge, and they funded the offices. The company’s first project was to be Early Morning, named after a painting by William Orpen, who was a character in the real-life story of Williams (in reality William Grover-Williams) and his wife Yvonne. It quickly became modified to Early One Morning.

       At that meeting Jack and I discussed the story. I had been chatting to Peter Howarth, my editor on Esquire, and had told him about my difficulties in extracting the exact facts from SOE. “Make it up,” he said. “we’ll publish it as fiction.” Which I did, and it appeared in Esquire as The Man with One Name. Jack wanted to do something similar but didn’t have a script. Would I write it?

       I had never tackled a sceenplay before, but Jack had, of course – he had a long string of successful projects behind him.

(See https://www.theguardian.com/film/2024/dec/24/jack-bond-cult-british-director-pet-shop-boys-collaborator-dies.)

What was he like? At that first encounter, he reminded me of a cross between Terence Stamp, Richard Harris and Ian McShane in Lovejoy (Jack loved a leather jacket). There was a disarming, almost rogue-ish charm and a sophistication about him that made you happy to be in his company. He was also a born storyteller, most of them tales drawn from a life well lived. There was always the feeling that here was a man who had enjoyed a rich and varied life, both creatively and personally, and that yours was somewhat dull in comparison.

       An accountant at the hotel company eventually asked Why have we got a film division? Good question. So, the offices and financing disappeared.  But we did write a script and its fate became another picaresque story among the many that dotted Jack’s life. It was bought by Granada Film who subsequently went bust – not because of how much they paid us, but due to the poor performance of several of its films. We went into the dreaded turn-around. At one point Jack phoned me and told me he had sold it on to an Irish film company that had never made a film. And, as it turned out, never would.

       Frustrated at the lack of progress, I decided, with Jack’s blessing, to combine the short story with some plot points from the script and produce a novel, also called Early One Morning. It was my fourth book, and the first to become a Sunday Times bestseller. I still get calls asking to option it as a movie and I have to explain that, thanks to its chequered history, it comes with some baggage.

       Jack carried on making films and I carried on writing books, but we would meet now and again to discuss ways to revive the project and Jack never lost the ability to surprise me. I remember us drinking a coffee on Wardour Street when an elegant 1960s Bentley glided by. “I used to have one of those,” Jack said. “When?” I asked. “When I was a millionaire,” came the reply.

       But that’s another story for another time. Goodbye, Jack.

*The picture of Jack was taken by his partner, cinematographer and photographer Mary-Rose Storey

HELL ON EARTH

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Guy Barker’s Inferno 67 finished a sold-out three-night run at Ronnie Scott’s last night (Sep 19th). I wrote the “book” and Joe Stilgoe the lyrics, but the heart of the piece is Guy’s music for his 18-piece big band, which almost fitted on the stage. The sheer stamina demanded of the players for this 75-minute epic (which features barely five minutes of silence from them) is astonishing. As is Per “Texas” Johansson who came from Stockholm with his contrabass clarinet to make some amazing sounds and growls. And the trumpets… normally there is a lead trumpet, then a second, third etc… here there were five leads, all trading places. The power generated was intense but sound engineer Miles Ashton ensured there was amazing clarity in the mix – it was possible to isolate individual players within the soundscape..

The show also included Vanessa Haynes singing Headshrinker/Voodoo Working, two old soul classic from the sixties, and Have a Nice Life, lyrics by Joe, music by Guy, which needed someone of Vanessa’s skill and power to do it justice. She smashed it every night. Here she is with Guy conducting. Costume singer’s own.

Danny Sapani played the narrator but also “rapped” as Little Albert, singer at the nightclub Hell on Earth.

And as well as supplying lyrics, Joe Stilgoe was the MC of Hell on Earth, Joey Darke.

Above is actress and writer Emer Kenny who played the enigmatic Cassandra with (the back of – sorry) Demetri Goritsas who is a heartbroken cop who falls in love with Cassandra. Shame she’s a Memetim, an avenging angel (check your bible, Book of Job). That’s a shrunken head she is admiring.

Also playing a starring role…

Yes it is quite a complex plot, but really its just a love story with added complications – like immortality. And Irish whiskey.

Thank you to http://www.ronniescotts.co.uk / @officialronnies for having us and taking a chance on a very different type of show for the club. and for the above pictures There’s even a rumour we might do it again next year…..

INFERNO UPDATE

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Some news on the Inferno 67 show with the Guy Barker Big Band at Ronnie Scott’s on September 17-19, with script and some lyrics (mercifully few – that’s not an easy gig) by me. Due to filming clashes, Clarke Peters can no longer take on the role as The Narrator. Fortunately, Clarke recently appeared in a lauded production of King Lear with the mighty Danny Sapani (Misfits, Penny Dreadful, The Crown) at the Almeida Theatre in Islington.

That’s Danny as Lear on the left with Clarke as The Fool. So, Clarke asked Danny if he could step in and pick up the baton, which we are thrilled to say he has. He joins Demetri Goritsas and Emer Kenny on stage at Ronnie’s, along with Joe Stilgoe and Vanessa Haynes on vocals and a mere 18 musicians, plus Guy Barker conducting and cueing. There’s an interview with myself and Guy talking to Ian Shaw about the show coming up on JAZZ FM soon – details later.

Meanwhile, Ronnie Scott’s has re-opened on time after its refurbishment during August and is looking very refreshed. This is me on the re-opening night, loitering with intent to go in.

AN INFERNO IN SOHO

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Composer-arranger-conductor and let us not forget trumpeter Guy Barker and myself have collaborated on several large scale jazz projects over the years. There was The Amadeus Project featuring dZf, a cheeky Runyonesque re-working of The Magic Flute, featuring actor Michael Brandon as the gravel-voiced narrator. For a Benjamin Britten festival at Aldeburgh we created That Obscure Hurt, a 90-minute piece for 75 musicians, with the great American singer Kurt Elling and actress Janie Dee. As a co-commission with the RTE (he is its Associate Artist) and the BBC Concert Orchestras, Guy created bravura new arrangements of Charles Mingus’s music to a text written by me and spoken/sung by Allan Harris.

But Inferno 67 is something else, as you can tell from this ad in the latest edition of Jazzwise:

My instruction from Guy was to imagine an episode of the Twilight Zone as if directed by David Lynch and scored by Quincy Jones, Miklos Rosza, Bernard Herrmann and Johnny Dankworth. And maybe the Beatles. And definitely Coltrane. That was before the pandemic. Since that enforced hiatus, it has grown in scope, introducing new characters, references and twists and is now blessed with one hell of a score. Luckily the powerhouse Guy Barker Big Band, its ranks filled with world-class soloists, can manage every switchback that its titular leader can throw at them.

So that just left the story element to deal with. For the narrator, Guy recruited the wonderful Clarke Peters (The Wire, Five Guys Named Moe, etc etc) and for lyrics, wit and devilish charm, the urbane Joe Stilgoe. The firebrand soul and funk come from the incomparable Vanessa Haynes; the shape-shifting love story is delivered by two of the UK’s top actors – Demetri Goritsas (whom I had seen in the fabulous “Jaws” play The Shark is Broken, as Roy Scheider) and Emer Kenny, who, among many other things, wrote the screenplay and co-starred in the series Karen Pirie, based on the novels by Val McDermid.

So, in all, that’s about 22 people on stage. It’s fair to say Ronnie Scott’s has rarely seen anything like it, but rest assured, the beating heart of this piece is the finest big band jazz in all it iterations. And a bottle of Green Spot whiskey. Oh, and a shrunken head. You’ll just have to go to find out why.

INFERNO 67 is at Ronnie Scott’s on Frith St in Soho from September 17th to 9th, two shows each night. Details: https://www.ronniescotts.co.uk/find-a-show/guy-barker

DEFENCE OF THE (JAZZ) REALM

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THE JAZZ DEFENDERS

Pizza Express, Soho, April 30th

Originally published in the Camden New Journa:

https://www.camdennewjournal.co.uk/article/defence-of-the-jazz-realm

Over the years we have had Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, Ronnie Scott and Tubby Haye’s Jazz Couriers and the pioneering Jazz Warriors with Courtney Pine, Gary Crosby etc. from South London. Now, from Bristol,  we have the Jazz Defenders. Given that jazz has probably never been so popular in this country, what exactly are they defending? Well, not the art form as a whole, but one important corner of it – the soul-jazz movement of (mostly) the sixties, with records such as Lee Morgan’s The Sidewinder, Horace Silver’s Song for my Father Hank Mobley’s No Room for Squares and Herbie Hancock’s Takin’ Off (which included Watermelon Man) or the under-rated Fat Albert Rotunda.

         Purists were disparaging about many of the soul-jazz albums at the time, seeing them as a cynical ploy by Blue Note and other labels to sell more records on the back of the surprise success of The Sidewinder and, in the parlance of the time, “selling out” (there was some truth in this – records like Lee Morgan’s kept the label alive). Fortunately, “jazz” is a far broader, less judgemental church than it was, and original pressings of the once derided discs are now much sought after by collectors. And the musicians in The Jazz Defenders are too young  to recall the hostility from the pages of Downbeat magazine.

         In any case, the Jazz Defenders definitely have this side hustle’s corner. From the opening blast of unison horns from the frontline courtesy of Jake McMurchie on sax and Nick Malcom on trumpet, the audience knew they were in safe hands – these guys have this music down tight. Furthermore, they’re not a slavish tribute band, the tunes are all original compositions, which may have a rhythmic familiarity but with a modern melodic sensibility at work. There is even a blast of hip hop thanks to the special guest, the actor and rapper Doc Brown who offered a sparky, witty interlude with Rolling on a High (he should have a way with words – he is Zadie Smith’s younger brother). There was also welcome hints in the mix of Quincy Jones’s soundtrack work – think the muscular Theme from Ironside and the frothy Soul Bossa from the Austin Powersmovies.

   Leader George Cooper – who moved house to London on the day of the gig – has played across the musical spectrum, having worked with Hans Zimmer, Nigel Kennedy, U2, Omar, Slum Village, MF Doom and The Brand New Heavies. It is little surprise that he can switch effortlessly between Herbie-like electric piano, classic Jimmy Smith Hammond B3 (albeit on a sound-a-like keyboard rather than the real beast) and, later, perform a lovely chamber piano piece called Enigma, which summoned up the spirit of Mehldau and Jarret. Kudos too to the powerhouse drummer Ian Matthews, whose “other band”, as he put it, is Kasabian. I asked him about being (like Charlie Watts) a rock drummer who loves and plays jazz. “They’re very different experiences,” he said, wheeling out a boxing analogy. “One is like punching haymakers, the other is more jabbing and fancy footwork.” So, one George Foreman, the other Muhammed Ali. In fact, given his ferocious final drum solo, it is obvious Matthews can bring a few Foreman haymakers to the party at any time.

  The night’s repertoire was mainly drawn from the band’s latest album Memory in Motion (Haggis Records), with a sprinkling of tracks from the previous King Phoenix, including Munch, where taut acoustic bassist Will Harris switched to electric for a slice of infectious dirty funk. Live, the tunes are perhaps more full-blooded than on record, thanks to the vigorous soloing of McMurchie and Malcolm and the driving drumming from Matthews, but the album is worth investigating as it works on several levels. Given its lack of jazz dissonance and because it flirts with funk, soul and R&B, it can work as quality background music, but pay closer attention and the high calibre of the playing and writing draws you deeper into what is a very satisfying and rewarding set of soul-jazz in all its iterations. I would say the record (and the band live) is a perfect gateway drug for any jazz-averse friends you might have. This stuff burns.

On the wall behind me at the Pizza Express was a poster for guitarist  Barney Kessel playing the venue, presumably back in the Sixties. It reminded me that I had been meaning to recommend an album by an Irish guitar player who cited Kessel (and Joe Pass and Wes Montgomery) as influences. Unlike the UK, Ireland in the sixties and seventies did not have a large pool of internationally recognised players, perhaps because the Catholic church long waged a campaign against the devil’s music (there were even anti-jazz parades in some towns and cities in the 1930s). Louis Stewart was an exception, a guitarist who played with Tubby Hayes and whom Ronnie Scott rated as one of the best in the business (unconditional praise from Ronnie was as rare as one of his new jokes). Stewart’s debut album (Louis the First) from 1975 has just been re-issued by Livia Records and it sounds wonderful. Straight out the gate with an energetic All The Things You Are, the listener agrees with Ronnie, this Irishman had the chops to play among the top guns. The album is all standards, sometimes tackled at quite a lick, but with remarkably precise playing from Stewart even at the fastest tempi. Mostly performed with his trio, there are also three solo pieces, one of which demonstrates how to take an old warhorse such as Send in the Clowns and breathe new harmonic life into it. Elsewhere his modern-sounding voicings remind me of when Larry Coryell parked his jazz-rock and played straight ahead jazz. Well worth investigating.

         Stewart was also famed for a mischievous sense of humour. One story has it that, when he was ill in hospital, one of his relatives asked if, should the worst come to the worst, would the guitarist like to be buried or cremated? Stewart beckoned them closer and as they leaned in, he whispered: “Surprise me.”

CHANGE OF WINDS

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First published as part of a longer article in the Camden New Journal: https://www.camdennewjournal.co.uk/article/change-of-winds

Rob Ryan on the re-birth of a “nu-jazz” pioneer as he switches instruments to ride the new wave of ambient jazz.

There is no stronger indicator of jazz’s current ascendancy than the introduction of a new nightly show (Mon-Fri) on BBC Radio 3 called Round Midnight, hosted by Soweto Kinch and dedicated to this once widely derided genre. I listened to several of the broadcasts in the first week and Soweto – an accomplished tenor player and rapper –  is a warm, inviting and, of course, knowledgeable presenter, with an admirably broad choice of music that ranges far and wide, but always includes generous helpings of home-grown talent. It well worth catching, either live, or, if 11.30pm is past your bedtime, on BBC Sounds.

         One of the key architects of the current jazz renaissance was Shabaka Hutchings with his bands The Comet is Coming and Sons of Kemet. I still recall the awesome power of his saxophone when I caught the former at Gilles Peterson’s Worldwide Festival in Sète, France, the hypnotic riffs blasting across the night sky like aural fireworks. So, like many, I was surprised and a little bereft when Shabaka (he has a single name now) announced he was laying down his saxophone in favour of the flute.

       He has spoken extensively about this somewhat surprising decision, and it boils down to this: he felt he had exhausted the possibilities of his sax playing (for now, at least) and he wanted to challenge himself and move the music forward into pastures new. After initial disappointment I found myself admiring the courage of the change and enjoying the music he produced late last year. Shabaka is eloquent, erudite and impassioned about his craft and his questing reminds me of John Coltrane’s search for a spiritual enlightenment in his music. Shabaka’s path, though, is far gentler and more ethereal than Coltrane’s latter take-no-prisoners cosmic explorations, creating serene, ambient soundscapes often featuring the fiendishly difficult shakuhachi, an end-blown Japanese bamboo flute. You can hear his new direction on the just-released album Perceive its Beauty, Acknowledge its Grace (Impulse!), which has a raft of star guests, including Outkast’s Andre 3000, another recent convert to the flute, and Shabaka’s father, reading one of his poems on the last track. It’s an involving album that really rewards repeated listening (just as a guide, if you enjoy Matthew Halsall’s more meditative tracks, you’ll love this). Shabaka brings his shakuhachi (and no doubt some of his 64 other flutes and possibly his dad) to The Barbican on May 9th for what should be an intriguing concert, marking a new beginning for him and his fans. Details: https://www.barbican.org.uk/whats-on/2024/event/shabaka.

DEDICATED TO HIM..AND WE WERE LISTENING

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Soft Machine

Ronnie Scott’s 10th April 2024

This review first appeared in the Camden New Journal

My wife suggested that a vanishingly small number of readers would appreciate the headline to this piece. So, here goes – it is a play on a track called Dedicated To You.. But You Weren’t Listening on Soft Machine Volume Two (also used for the title of an album by the Keith Tippet Group, which featured Softs men Elton Dean and Robert Wyatt). It came to mind because guitarist John Etheridge of this parish (you may see him crossing the Heath most days), and the de facto frontman of the current Softs line-up, dedicated the band’s performance on Wednesday night to long-term, masterly drummer John Marshall, who played his final gig at Ronnie’s last year with the band and died in September 2023. Marshall wasn’t actually on Volume Two or the Tippett album but the latter in particular is a masterpiece of the kind of jazz-rock that Marshall excelled at.

         The latest iteration of the Softs (above, pic by P Howitt) played the first show at Ronnie’s – 6.30-8pm -a slightly early slot for jazz. It was ”Just after nap time” as Etheridge, who joined the band in 1975, making him the elder statesmen, put it. Whether he had partaken of a snooze himself wasn’t clear, but something put fire in his belly, because he was on blistering form, whether trading licks with the versatile sax/flute/keys man Theo Travis, indulging in a McLaughlin/Cobham like interplay with drummer Asaf Sirkis or turning out fiery finger-shredding solos on former member (Sir) Karl Jenkins’ Tales of Taliesin from the ninth album Softs.

         With no original personnel left, there are those who think the group is like Trigger’s famous broom in Only Fools and Horses – if all the parts have been replaced, is it still the same brush? In this case, though, the better analogy would be something like the Porsche 911 that has evolved over time into a new, yet familiar, beast. Hardly any components remain from the original in the current 911 model, yet the DNA they share is obvious. Soft Machine began in 1966 but the 2024 version has a similar genetic connection to the original.

       Etheridge went to great lengths to explain how the new boys – drummer Sirkis with his five crash cymbals and bass player Fred Baker  – slot into the history of the band, although a hand-out of a Pete Frame-like family tree would certainly help beginners to the Canterbury scene. Baker, incidentally, may look like he’ll be off to sell shooms at Glastonbury, but he demonstrated that he and his fretless bass are worthy (farm) successors to Hugh Hopper and Roy Babbington. The latter retired recently with hand problems, but he can be heard guesting on the excellent new record Other Doors, which has all the knotty time signatures, ethereal soundscapes and earworm melodies that any long-term fan could desire.

         The set was a canny mix of old and new, going back to the sixties for Joy of a Toy – also revisited on Other Doors – and taking in the seminal Third with Facelift and ranging from the abstract and angular (Travis’s The Visitor at the Window) to the serenely beautiful (a flute-driven version of Hopper’s Kings & Queens from Fourth – the flute harks back to the days when the enigmatic Lyn Dobson was a short-lived addition to the “classic” Dean/Hopper/Ratledge/Wyatt line-up). Odd that the new single wasn’t featured. It’s a proper 7-inch 45 rpm number with Harry Becket’s lilting The Dew at Dawn backed with a reworking of that old Mike Ratledge-era favourite, Slightly All the Time. Still, it was for sale in the foyer for those who missed it being included.

         The evening finished with a medley that spanned decades, where the multi-talented Travis let rip a la Elton Dean, beginning with 10.30 Returns to the Bedroom, the final track on Soft Machine Volume Two, and climaxing with a furious Hazard Profile Part One from the Bundles album. The full house loved it and, as on the new album, the band demonstrated this music, rather than being an exercise in prog-rock nostalgia, still has a winning vitality and relevance. Ronnie’s is closing for a refurb over the summer – let’s hope they invite Soft Machine back to the spiffed-up club, perhaps this time in the later slot, not just after nap time.

Rob Ryan