Bees Mouth - June 2017

26th June

Maybe you hoped for rain at Glasto to dampen your pals’ humblebragging FB posts… maybe you expected a billion pound birthday present from the magic money tree and meany May gave it to the DUP instead - no fair! - maybe you somehow convinced yourself that summer was 100% here when really it was just a thumbnail preview and the real thing may be lost in the Cosmic Ordering post room… don’t get down in the mouth, get up and get on down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we’ve still got an unshakeably strong mandate to deliver a far-reaching program of blues-to-bop-to-latin-to-swing-to-whatever thanks to the endless creativity and tireless enthusiasm of Luke ‘Luke’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Loz’ Thomas (drms), gamely assisted by me on bass, while multi-dimensional entities that manifest themselves on this plane as the Bee’s team wait, vibrating soundlessly, amidst the scented dusk behind the well-stocked bar, ready to pour you libations that will refresh and invigorate your jaded senses quicker than a government housing officer can pass the buck…. far away across the multiverse Mr Corbyn prepares for a follow-up greatest-hits tour of Carling Academies, Ms May runs panting in ever-decreasing circles through an endless wheatfield pursued by the vengeful ghost of the Reverend Ian Paisley, Craig David finally discovers some well-deserved down time in his packed weekly schedule, Ed Sheeran returns home to change his sheets and tune his guitar, clandestine Russian hackers accidentally break into LinkedIn and drown under an endless torrent of unsolicited emails, The Trump does something so dismally predictably awful that you can't even be bothered to find out what it is, dogs delight to bark and bite, Fortuna's wheel keeps on turning and we keep on keeping on…. don’t be shy, come and join us, now's the time. 

19th June

The sun’s out! Not a moment to lose - abandon whatever attempts you were making to convert the latest horrific tragedy into internet commentary gold, pull a sickie if you’re one of the dwindling band of worker bees still gifted with old-school contractual protections, or just abscond from whatever exploitative gig-economy bullcrap disguised as self employment you’re engaged in, and get yourselves down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH … We’ll be expecting you fresh from the beach, your pink-and-white flesh still bearing the imprint of the greasy pebbles, your hair fragrant with the evocative scent of disposable barbecues, your eyes dazzled with the shimmering rays as they bounce off a million pairs of knock-off Raybans before being absorbed into the inky blackness of a million sweet tribal tattoos, waiting to dazzle and delight your sun-scorched senses with the killer sounds of Luke ‘Scorchio” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Hotter Than The Sun” Thomas (drms) plus me supplying low end as per, while the Bee’s team led by dandy highwayman Jack Rowan wait, vibrating gently in the scented dusk behind the well-stocked bar, ready to slake your thirst with a selection of exotic liquors, the languid zephyrs of midsummer play about your fevered temples and the last showing of the light in the western sky glows like the unearthly radiance shining from your own personal doorway to The Law… as everything seems more and more improbable, as the prolonged period of uncertainty keeps on delivering like a horrible Amazon Prime of despair, give your poor bewildered self a break and come and join us, now’s the time, there is no other.

June 12th

A total upheaval, as candidates bared all, let their particulars be examined by the nation, and braved the hostile climate, making a clean breast and astonishing spectators with their unexpected surges - yet again the Naked Bike Ride has shown us a triumph of optimism over the forces of gravity and confounded the naysayers - if you’re safely fully clothed* and need a break from wondering just what the heck is going to happen next, JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is here once again, defying the way the mainstream media has totally ignored our successes, with the return of the dream coalition team of Luke ‘The Surge” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Urge’ Thomas (drms), plus me making up the numbers on bass, and the ethereal ascended beings of the Bee’s Team under the leadership of dandy highwayman Jack Rowan ready to offer soothing libations to help you all just chill the flip down, you know… as the prolonged period of uncertainty stretches ever further into the cloud-dappled future, as poor Ms May and her new chums sweatily attempt to cobble together a convincing vision of a strong, stable realm riven with sectarianism but forever free of homosexual dinosaurs, as the nation’s responsible parents remind the newly enfranchised youth that it’s not the winning, it’s the taking part that matters, as Mr Corbyn stands before his modest bathroom mirror and practices adjusting his tie with a smile of quiet command, as an appalled nation tries to reconcile feelings of victory with the sudden return of Mr Gove to our ever more neglected TV screens and front pages, it’s time to put down your tethered devices, abandon your tribal prejudices, hang up your hang ups and come and get down with some righteous hard swinging jazz n’ bop n’ blues n’ groove … see, it’s all ok, come join us, join us…..  

*Bee’s Mouth is not licensed for full public nudity.

June 5th

Confused? Fearful? Maybe changing your profile pic to a national flag, or writing solemn, pontificating posts about how it's All Our Fault or People Are Dying Abroad Too, longer seem like adequate responses? Maybe the tension is too much? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH pour soothing balm upon your poor jangled nerves, as we keep calm and Carry On Swinging, as though infused with the twin spirits of Kenny Burrell and Kenneth Williams, thanks to the impassioned, ineffably hip stylinga of Luke 'Lightsabre' Rattenbury (gtr) and the cataclysmic grooving precision of special guest Tristan 'T Bone' Banks (drms) plus me on the ol' Dog-house, while dandy highwayman Jack Rowan and the ethereal, ever-obliging Bee's team stand by, on hand to offer soothing libations... Tear your horrified gaze away from Mrs May as she flaps and squawks like a dusty vulture on her way to running the worst election campaign ever created by a sinister Australian, stop wondering anxiously if Mr Corbyn can keep remembering how to do his tie up properly, keep your head steady and your powder dry against whatever trials may loom ahead through the gloomy mists of the prolonged period of uncertainty, and for now respond to It all by grabbing yer axe down off the shelf and coming to join us, let's celebrate. 

Bees Mouth - May 2017

May 15th

OMG! Still 24 more sleeps to go til everyone finally gets to vote, then collapse in a fevered heap, their busy little brains worn out with the effort of sustaining their opinions, their Facebook pages laden down with big squishy heaps of suppurating ill-tempered sniping masquerading as political engagement, their ears ringing with the words ‘strong and stable’ or ‘policies and principles’ echoing in shrill doomy voices… give yerself a break, get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where we have a warm welcome awaiting you no matter what your convictions, as long as they’re not criminal, thanks to the superhuman all-party skills of Luke ‘Mr Dynamite’ Rattenbury’ (gtr) and Loz ‘The Big Noise from The Big Smoke’ Thomas (drms) plus me on the ol’ dog house, the ever-radiant Bee’s team, and the usual cast of characters swept in out of the night’s turbulent mystery to give their personalities some exercise as we lay down a magic carpet of swing-to-funk-to-bop to take you away from all the bad vibes and into a world of entrancing possibilities … like you’re a footballer on an open-top bus parading through the town, in that magic moment after the promotion but before all the scandals start, with the wind in your funkily coiffeured hair, the sun on your artfully stubbled face, cheers of adoration ringing in your shell-like ears…. leave your ransom-ware riddled devices behind, stop shouting at the pollsters or trying to undermine the integrity of the poor old BBC, wipe your mind forever clean of the image of politicians eating fast food in an effort to appear normal, leave off feeling guiltily, bizarrely nostalgic for Phil 'Prince' Mountbatten's unique contributions to public life, come and join us, let the music take you higher, higher, higher.

May 8th

Are you surrounded by a swarm of overheated online election hoo-ha, ubiquitous and unavoidable as the massed ranks of ukelele players, slam poets and fire jugglers now advancing upon us under cover of the Fringe Festival? Haunted by the image of Ms Le Pen doing her weird Nazi-disco dance, rolling her eyes at you and sticking her tongue out between her fingers like a terrifying lunatic at a provincial midweek 90s revival night who won’t take no for an answer? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH will be your sanctuary, your refuge and your psychic regenerator, as we’ve got the old skool original G team of Luke ‘Mr Magic’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rule From The Centre Of The Ultraworld’ Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, laying down some old standards, blues, bebop and grooves while the radiant celestial beings known in this earthly dimension as the Bee’s Team wait in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar, ready to hand over refreshing libations of the finest liquors known to man… don’t spend the evening cowering in front of your FB feed, flinching before the shrill chatter of ‘strong and stable’ assaulting your consciousness like a flock of angry nanobot cockatoos, or watching Mr Corbyn looking cross and puzzled, or realising that you’ve forgotten all about what Trump and his busy little orange hands may have been up to in the meantime..Spring is in the air, the voice of the cuckoo is heard once again across the land, let the storm of intransigent political emnity rage away in it’s own little online teacup for the rest of the evening and get on the good foot , grab your axe down off the shelf and celebrate good times, come on…

Satisfaction, finally

Jazz FM Award Ceremony Review -Jazzwise Magazine - May 2017

A combination of the diligent pursuit of journalistic integrity on behalf of you, dear reader, and the organiser’s generous assessment of my actual capabilities to deliver as such, resulted in my being fortunate enough to attend this year’s JazzFM Awards. The setting was the Shoreditch Town Hall, its high-Victorian architecture evoking a suitable spirit of municipally serious-minded yet aspirational collective endeavour. Would that my humble keyboard were able fully to describe the dazzling splendour of the assembled company, the rapier-like cut and thrust of the repartee, the sumptuousness of the canapés, and the dignity and forbearance of the ushers and waitresses, but these details will have to wait for the attentions of one upon whom Calliope has more generously bestowed her gifts. I can confirm that among the musical highlights were Laura Mvula’s performance of The Man I Love in tribute to Ella Fitzgerald, accompanied by pianist Oli Rockberger, Georgie Fame’s unexpected, affectingly artless cockney-flavoured rendition of ‘Everything Happens to Me’ backed by an all-star house band featuring Guy Barker, and a storming performance from New York man of the moment Donny McCaslin. Among the eclectic array of presenters adding lustre to proceedings were fearless guardian of the democratic process Gina Miller, scat supremo Cleveland Watkiss,  eternally boyish radio star Gilles Peterson and famously irascible veteran Van Morrison, whose valiant but ultimately unsuccessful struggle with a recalcitrant microphone stand commanded the respect and admiration of all who witnessed it. It was a real pleasure to see Ashley Henry and Nubya Garcia among the nominees for Breakthrough Act of the Year, both of whom were featured at New Generation Jazz events at Brighton’s Verdict Club in 2016.  However it would be fair to say that even these eminences were overshadowed by the nominees who garnered the majority of the subsequent press coverage, and sparked much heated debate in the process – Mick Jagger, Charlie Watts and Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones. 

    Between them the old-timers notched up three awards. Charlie Watts was up first, receiving a Gold Award ‘in recognition of his lifelong contribution to jazz and blues’. Watts’ enthusiasm for jazz, especially the bop big-band styles of his youth, is well known; he cut a very modest, self-effacing figure onstage, particularly in contrast with his presenter, the indefatigable free-jazz crusader Evan Parker, who was as ebullient as Watts was reticent. Introduced by host Jez Nelson as ‘the most important man in the room’, Parker started his speech by declaring impishly ‘I bet 98% of you have never even heard of me’ – Watts responded by muttering ‘I should be giving this award to you’ before both men paid tribute to bassist Dave Green, one of the stalwarts of jazz in the UK for as long as the Stones have been on the radio. That two figures from such radically different areas of the music biz should share a stage and find common ground in esteem for a style that both admire but neither regularly perform was a heartening display of ecumenicalism. Equally, when Mick and Ronnie took to the stage to accept the award for Best Blues Album for their recent release of back-to-their-roots R&B the choice seemed uncontroversial. It was the same record’s award for overall Album Of The Year that set social media chattering. How could the Stones possibly qualify?

    Something of the sort seems to have occurred to Jagger, who noted in his acceptance speech that in their early days the Stones were regularly thrown out of jazz clubs for playing R&B. Back in the early 60s, jazz was still hip and the R&B pop stylings of his band were rather looked down upon by the cognoscenti. ‘It’s come full circle’ he declared, visibly pleased to receive the award; how are we to interpret that remark?

    To many jazz fans and performers of their era, the Stones were at the forefront of the musical revolution that swept their scene away, closing the clubs, bankrupting the record labels and putting the artists out of work.  Interviews from the period seethe with resentment at the way that rock and roll took over as the dominant popular music of the day, and at it’s perceived coarsening effect on the nation’s musical culture. Jazz in its early days had attracted exactly the same opprobrium and had been described in exactly the same terms – ‘primitive’ music appealing to the lower instincts – but this was forgotten as the effects of the bop innovators took over and jazz moved out of the dancehalls and into the hipster clubs. The Stones had helped kill jazz – were they now to be honoured, already garlanded with awards and material success beyond measure, with a trophy that surely belonged to a jazz artist? Which raised the long-standing and ever-unresolved question – who would qualify as a jazz artist nowadays anyway? 

    A look at some of the other, uncontroversial winners gives us a clue to how the latter question would be answered by Jazz FM – awards were handed to Shabaka Hutchings, Orphy Robinson, Norma Winstone and Nikki Yeoh, among nominations includingBrad Meldhau, Wayne Shorter, Julian Arguelles, Laura Jurd, Tim Garland, Soweto Kinch and Gwilym Simcock. Other nominees contesting the Stones for Album of the Year included Gregory Porter, Kurt Elling and Donny McCaslin – and alsoMadeleine Peyroux and Anderson .Paak whose status as jazz artists is perhaps more debatable. Despite the presence of many artists whose relationship to jazz is tangential at best – and the inclusion of ‘Best Soul Artist’ and ‘Best Blues Act’ among the categories – there were rather more incontestably jazz acts among the nominees than can be typically found on a Jazz FM playlist. 

    Defenders would argue that Jazz FM is a commercial radio station, and in the ancient battle between art and commerce, jazz has usually come off badly. By nominating the Stones, the awards ceremony secured far more of the valuable oxygen of publicity. The award was voted for by the listening public, and so reflects what a majority of them actually like to listen to – and perhaps some of their attention, once gained, might be diverted onto the rest of the fertile UK jazz scene as represented by the other, less famous nominees. At the end of the day, everybody has to make a living, and critical accolades and esoteric artistic ambitions often don’t pay the bills. This attitude, however, is anathema to some. There will always be those uncompromising jazz fans for whom any stylistic development later than 1959 is highly suspect, or who see the purity of the free-improv scene is the only true representation of the music – JazzFM and all it’s works will have little appeal for them. But in addition such respected and forward-thinking players as Cleveland Watkiss and Kit Downes also raised their voices on social media to portray this as simply another example of jazz being sidelined, marginalised and diluted by a musical establishment that pays lipservice to the idea of jazz music, hoping to borrow some of it’s cultural cachet, while actually ignoring anything outside the tried and tested commercial mainstream. This is not an isolated complaint – many of the larger jazz festivals have attracted criticism for their policy of booking non-jazz popular headliners – the same complaint has been made against the Jazz Cafe and even the venerable Ronnie Scott’s. As we’ve noted before in this column, it’s easier to find agreement on what jazz isn’t than on what it is. Yet the label persists, with all its baggage, and seems increasingly to be deployed for its positive connotations – who shall be its guardian and gatekeeper?

    A look at the full list of nominees shows a scene bursting with original talent, steeped in the tradition and unafraid to carry it forward. Jazz is enjoying a period of expansion in the UK at the moment and part of this will surely depend on the extent to which it can move beyond a limited set of true believers and find its position within the mainstream. A generation of musicians is emerging in the UK who draw part of their musical sustenance from the jazz tradition but who see no conflict in mixing up their music with influences discovered elsewhere. Robert Glasper’s credentials as an important jazz figure are frequently, and perhaps justifiably, called into question by the establishment, but his name is constantly invoked by young players in the process of developing their own voices, in large part because of his cross-genre appeal. In the past the devastating effect of rock music on the jazz community has resulted in a tendency to develop a bunker type of mentality, as if jazz can only exist in isolation from other musical forms, and a zero-sum type of thinking where the advance of any other music is seen as detracting from jazz’s precarious position. There are historical reasons for this, in which the Stones have unwittingly played a part, but there is something incongruous when an artist deliberately chooses a musical path that defines itself by its complexity and esoteric or venerable appeal, then complains that other, easier music is getting all the attention. If jazz is to thrive beyond the conservatories and the arts centres it will have to find its place alongside the rest of the current soundscape – it’s all music, after all. Let’s hope that at the very least the JazzFM award is placed in a prominent position on Mr Jagger’s already crowded mantlepiece. 

Bees Mouth - April 2017

April 24th

Politics! So life-affirmingly wonderful! Such a cast of characters, such drama, such excitement and catharsis! I bet you just can’t get enough of elections, referenda, polls, surveys and angry men yelling at each other on social media.. but what will you do when the last ballot is cast, the last scandal unearthed, the very last stinging FB rebuke delivered at 3am via your twitchy iPhone fingers to utterly defeat and confound your enemies? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH offer you a vision of a different world, where there’s no need to assert your individuality and belief in personal freedom by smashing people over the head with your hastily assembled opinions, where you can relax the rictus of outrage that’s been glued to your lovely face since, like, forever, where you can stop trying to sort out Fillon from Macron from Hamon from Melenchon as if they’re all characters in a spectacularly boring Star Wars reboot, where you can leave off trying to imagine just exactly what the heck is going to happen to the entity formerly known as the UK and whether Ms May’s plans extend beyond Grammar schools and into the Tory wonderland of National Service, press gangs, public executions and compulsory suet pudding for the under 5s.... just kick off your heels, hang up your hang ups and get down with the sounds of special guest Oli “Intergalactic Master” Howe on the keys, plus regular hero and Alpine operative Loz “Positive Vibes” Thomas (drms), as they spin a web of hot swinging jazz n’ grooves, plus me on bass, and the peerless Bee’s team wait in the scented shadows ready to make with the quality liquors... don’t get lost in a dreary desert of fake news, get with the real deal, grab yer axe down off the shelf and come join us, join us......

April 3rd

The carnival of idiocy continues apace, as we start loading powder and shot onto the Victory and prepare to set sail for Trafalgar once again to demonstrate our commitment to a modern, forward thinking approach to Europe.. really, who’s got time for this kind of boring trash when the voice of spring is heard across the land? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is here to welcome in the season with the intergalactic vibrations streaming forth in a limitless torrent from the talented hands of Luke ‘Hakuna Matata’ Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Tristan ‘Bongoloco’ Banks as they smash out another scintillating mix of hot swing, cool funk and tropical grooves, aided by me on bass, while the shimmering, translucent Ascended Beings who in this dimension are known as the Bee’s Team stand by to offer libations of the finest liquors known to man to delight your senses… soon, all British men of honour will be removing their shirts to reveal the full inky, pasty glory of their tattooed torsos, the first bongo drummers will be heard in the parks, soon the acrid stench of barbecue will drift across from the beach while the suburbs come alive with the sound of inexpertly wielded power tools… don’t be a worry wart, a buzzkill or a funsucker, tear your eyes away from the grisly spectacle of Michael Howard rearing suddenly up in your TV screen like a boring zombie, it’s time to grab yer axe down off the shelf and come celebrate with us before it all burns down…. 

It don't mean a thing if it ain't challenging patriarchal norms

This column has touched before on the relations between jazz and politics, and we’re about to plunge headfirst back into those bracingly icy waters by drawing attention to a controversy that flared up this month and has continued to flicker fitfully ever since. As the focus of the Left has shifted from issues of class dialectics to issues of personal identity, so has the focus of jazz’s political debate increasingly centred around issues of identity and ownership. This was brought to the forefront as a result of comments made in the course of a conversation between two pianists on a Blue Note Jazz Cruise ship. The ivory ticklers in question were Ethan Iverson, primary composer for gymnastically virtuosic trio The Bad Plus, and Robert Glasper, much lionised bandleader famed for his ambivalence towards the existing status quo of tradition and his enthusiasm for cross-over experiments into funk and fusion. The conversation was published by Iverson on his blog, and one comment in particular attracted a great deal more attention than either participant had anticipated. 

The conversation had turned, as conversations with Glasper often do, to the relationship between the jazz tradition and other currents of contemporary black music. The talk then turned to other pianists, scurrilous allegations against Cecil Taylor and Richie Beirach, and some of the minutiae of performance practice, but not before Glasper had dropped the following bombshell – readers of a sensitive disposition may want to look away now:

“I’ve seen what that does to the audience, playing that groove. I love making the audience feel that way. Getting back to women: women love that. They don’t love a whole lot of soloing. When you hit that one groove and stay there, it’s like musical clitoris. You’re there, you stay on that groove, and the women’s eyes close and they start to sway, going into a trance.”

No sooner had the interview been posted then comments started to fly. Glasper was taken to task for sanctioning misogyny, perpetuating condescending stereotypes, objectifying women and denying them the right to any meaningful place within jazz, or even within the entire sphere of artistic endeavour, due to his apparent assertion they are primitive, elemental beings unable to transcend the immediate urgings of their physical bodies. Iverson was attacked for publishing his comments unedited, thus giving Glasper’s unacceptable views a platform. He attempted to defend himself on this charge, but only dug himself into a deeper hole by suggesting that his critics were indirectly responsible for the election of Donald Trump. His wife, the author Sarah Denning, also weighed in, though her input was muddied for some by her insistence on tying the issue to her perspectives on the world of women’s featherweight boxing, with which many readers may be unfamiliar. Iverson then recanted on his recantation but the damage was done and the furore of internet outrage continued.  Glasper has not taken the high road in his response. 

The issue is a fascinating one, laden with many layers of significance. While few would agree that Glasper’s comment deserves to go unchallenged in the public sphere in itself, there was also a lively debate over the level of significance it should be accorded. Some defended Iverson’s decision to publish it – others attacked it, on the grounds that publishing was an endorsement or at very least a perpetuation. It was pointed out that his blog had run interviews with over 40 male jazz musicians, but not a single female one.  There is the continuing issue of women’s representation in the musical world generally, and the jazz world in particular – who hasn’t encountered the expectation that the woman in the poster will inevitably be ‘the singer’, and the entire package of derogatory stereotypes that comes with that assumption? The Lincoln Centre has belatedly addressed these issues by starting to hold ‘blind’ auditions for posts in its orchestras – similar procedures in the classical world have seen the representation of women in US symphony orchestrago from 5% to 50% since the 1970s, graphically illustrating how wide the gap in opportunity had been. There are also wider issues of racial stereotyping and the portrayal of women in the hip-hop and R & B cultures that Glasper admires – and, historically, in the jazz world as well. Some educators demanded that Glasper’s work should be removed from studies curricula, although if every sexist or misogynist were treated accordingly the jazz archive would be slim indeed – the autobiography of Miles Davis is a prominent, but by no means unique, repository of hideously chauvinistic attitudes, and Art Taylor’s fascinating series of interviews published as Notes And Tones contains numerous examples of revered jazz authorities voicing challenging opinions. One factor that has been underplayed is that Glasper is talking about women in very similar terms to those that were once used to describe black culture in general and jazz music in particular. The 1933 OED defined jazz thus:

“To play jazz; to dance to jazz music, a type of music originating among American Negroes, characterized bya regular or forceful rhythm, often in common time, and a ‘swinging’ quality …

… to move in a grotesque or fantastic manner; to behave wildly; to have sexual intercourse” 

If the common package of negative stereotypes in early 20th Century American and European society included ideas that black people were ‘primitive’ and in touch with ‘elemental’ human urges but unable to attain higher cultural achievements, then Glasper’s view of women seems to coincide with this at many points. 

Beyond these ramifications, we can also glimpse the continuing unease at the way jazz has moved from being popular music of the dancehall to esoteric music of the concert auditorium. If the Bad Plus’s rigourously intellectual oeuvre exemplifies the latter position, then Glasper seems perpetually caught between the two. He seems to be regarded with suspicion by someof his jazz musician peers, but among young fans there’s no question as to who has the higher profile. The infamous interview is an interesting read and has a number of valid points about matters musical that have been completely overshadowed by what seems to have been an episode of crass boys-together boasting of a sort that will be familiar to anyone who’s spent time backstage. You can read it below and decide for yourselves what the appropriate response should be; and, if you’re minded, you can see Mr. Glasper in person when he visits Sussex as part of this year’s increasingly spectacular Love Supreme line-up.

https://ethaniverson.com/interview-with-robert-glasper/

Michelle Mercer writing for NPR

Jazz at Lincoln Center Adopts Blind Auditions

Sarah Deming’s blog post

United We Stand

 Sad tidings reach us that the Jazz At The Palmiera sessions in Hove are no more, having been abruptly terminated without notice. While it’s been heartening to see the abundance of new casual gigs springing up around town over the last couple of years, both players and aficionados alike will be wearily familiar with the precarious nature of these events, dependent as they are upon the landlord’s goodwill – a commodity that is all too often contingent upon the thirst of the patrons and their willingness to spend good money quenching it. Despite the best efforts of a hedonistic minority, jazz fans are no longer the big drinkers that they used to be in the rollicking days of prohibition, speakeasies and unrestrained gangsterism, and this has an impact on the economic viability of the back-room session. We can be thankful for the happy confluences of sympathetic landlords, popular venues and committed musicians that have resulted in several long-running casual gigs in towns across the South Coast, especially Brighton. 

    Of course jazz musicians are often free-wheeling types, well used to the peripatetic nature of the biz, and resilient enough to shrug their shoulders and move on in the face of adversity. The music industry is notorious for short-termism, casual employment, sketchy arrangements regarding pay and conditions, and other evils of an unregulated marketplace where the supply of labour exceeds the demand, and anyone who survives for any length of time learns to roll with the punches and read the small print of the contract, in the event that one is actually offered. There’s an informal network operating to let players know who the sharp operators are amongst agents, landlords and promoters, and it can be easy to forget that there’s a trade union for musicians as well, dedicated to promoting their interests within the industry. 

    The origin of the Musicians’ Union is tied in with the beginnings of the jazz age, but its relationship to jazz players themselves has never been straightforward. The story begins in the latter years of the 19th century, when rapid urbanisation and the birth of popular commercial entertainment – theatres and music halls – created a new class of professional musicians. Conditions seem to have been frankly horrific – confined to cramped, dirty pits, the players were usually at the mercy of managing directors – a class whose entrepreneurial thirst was seldom inhibited by human feelings – who saw them as a necessary but expensive evil, and tried to drive down costs at every opportunity, or would cancel at a whim or whenever poor ticket sales occurred. Contracts, paid rehearsals, and backstage riders were unknown, to say nothing of Arts Council funding. Such musician’s organisations as existed, descended from the old system of guilds and town waits, were more concerned with protectionist strategies to exclude non-members undercutting their rates and restricting the ability of foreigners to work in the UK than negotiating better conditions. Then as now, the contingent nature of the work, the unclear distinction between part-time and full-time, professional and amateur, and the over-supply of labour made collective bargaining difficult. A petition of 1469 complains of “rude countryfolk and workers at various crafts who have pretended to be minstrels”  – another of 1653 tried to insist that a minimum of four musiciansbe employed for “banquets, feasts, weddings, revels or other assemblies”. Job insecurity in the London theatres of the 1760s led to musicianstaking on more work than they could actually perform, then creating a system of deputies or ‘deps’ to cover the less well remunerated engagements, both a product of and a contribution to chaotic working conditions.  A letter to the Orchestral Association Gazette of 1875 complains of managers who have “not a note of music in their heads, yet they dictate what is and is not good in music”. These give us fascinating glimpses of how little some aspects of the musician’s life has changed. 

    Come the 20th century, serious attempts were underway to regulate and protect the burgeoning growth in musical employment. It’s estimated that while the UK’s population doubled between 1870 and 1930, the number of musicians increased sevenfold. All kinds of specialisms emerged – brass players were heavily in demand at ice rinks, apparently – but the real growth areas were down to two epoch-defining innovations – the cinema, and the arrival of popular dance music in the form of American jazz. Cinemas were the largest employers of musicians by the 1920s, but hot on their heels came the new wave of massive dance halls, such as the famous Hammersmith Palais and the Empire chain run by Sir Oswald Stoll, of which the Shepherd’s Bush and the Hackney branches are among the best-known survivors. The effect on musical employment was sudden and drastic; attendances at the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra concertsdropped to less than 100 in 1924, while 4,000 were at dances ‘the same night’. This created tensions which the newly-formed Musicians’ Union tried to resolve; a letter in the Musicians’ Journal of 1925 describes the incoming jazz musicians as “an entirely new breed – their demeanour crass, their comportment uncouth, their training inadequate or non-existent” . The writer was particularly incensed at the way the parvenus were suddenly making more money than ‘proper’ musicians were, so that “respectable baton musical directors are assessed at a fraction of the worth of jazz solo-saxophonists, or even jazz drummers”. So did jazz-trained players come to describe rock musicians in the 1960s, and rock musicians in turn decried DJs in much the same terms in the 1980s and 1990s.

    The union struggled with the jazz players because they were making good money, didn’t belong to the establishment, and saw no reason to join. A further blow came with the introduction of talkies into the cinema. Silent movies, of course, were not actually silent at all – they all relied on live music, from solo piano to full orchestras. Minutes of a 1929 Union meeting complain of “the American capitalists trying to install talking pictures on threat of the supply of pictures being cut off” but predicted confidently that their power would be thwarted as sound in cinema was an un-natural, passing fad which the public would soon reject. We can perceive a foretaste of the Union’s struggles with the impact of changing technology on musical employment, from backing tracks to file-sharing to streaming. 

     Though both jazz and the MU developed alongside each other, the essential nature of the jazz-player’s life has kept them at arm’s length from each other as often as not. The challenges facing musicians as workers in the capitalist system have changed in their particulars over the years, yet the nature of the problems – how to assert their right to fair terms and conditions, and how to safeguard their employment from the vagaries of the wider economy – has remained constant. How could the Union address them? Answers on a postcard, please, and don’t forget to keep coming to the gigs – that’s the surest way to aid their survival. 

All source material from:
‘Players Work Time – A History Of The British Musician’s Union’ by John Williamson and Martin Cloonan.

Bees Mouth - March 2017

March 27th

Spring is here! All is in order in the birds, bees and green shoots department: in the sorry world of man, The Tories greet the season with their traditional display of infighting and hypocrisy while Mr Corbyn responds with characteristically principled modesty by doing nothing at all, Mr Trump spouts absurdities, Mr Putin jails his enemies and the i360 celebrates the arrival of clear skies by promptly breaking down. JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH is right on message with this cavalcade of seasonal continuity thanks to the returning phenomenon of Luke 'Colonial Mentality' Rattenbury (gtr) and Tristan 'T Bone' Banks (drms) as they ride in on waves of the freshest sounds around, with me helping out on bass and the eternally young and fragrant Bee's Team on hand to dispense draughts of reviving liquors from deep in the vernal well... Don't get lost in a dreary works of Internet hoo-ha - you really don't need to check out any more middle aged men's opinions on terrorism, look at anyone's instascam frauds or buy any more stuff - spring is in the air, grab your axe down off the shelf and come and join us! 

March 20th

How will you celebrate the Vernal Equinox? Maybe with some dreary box set in front of the redundant TV - perhaps you've got some Union affiliating to catch up on, or are part of an imaginary team busily employed not spying on Big Donald. Or are you just alienated and uncertain, watching in dazed bewilderment as the whole show seems to slide gently into the boring abyss? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH is the jam you need to connect you back into the cosmic cycle, thanks to the special irreducible talents of special guests Al 'Crazy Eyes Killa' Scott on piano and Angus 'The Gent' Bishop on the traps, plus me on bass and the bright eyed woodland creatures of the Bee's team waiting with immaculately poised alertness behind the well stocked bar.. Don't let the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty harsh your vibe, come join us, let your spirit be free, there's another force at work in the slow rising of the sap and the spawning beneath the salt expanses of the ocean, soon the blossom will return and the first djembe drummers will be heard in the parks, the cycles continue ...

March 13th

As we stumble fearfully into 2017, the choking fog of disappointment rises thicker and faster - disappointed Remainers, disappointed Corbynistas, angry disappointed Brexiters, angry disappointed Donald... Thank the cold glittering stars for JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH cos we never promise what we can't deliver, and we always deliver on the promise of the real swinging sounds from those masters of musical ceremony Luke 'Whole World Is Africa' Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz 'Deeper Roots' Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, while the wise and patient Bees team wait to serve you draughts of fine liquor... Now the warm breath of spring is in the air, through the softening loam pushes the anxious crocus, the lengthening dusk is alive with the triumph of resurgent birdsong,outside the town lights garish reach the hills and the hidden valleys return to slow fecundity... Stuff them and their endless disastrous referenda of endless disappointment, boring austerity and stale impotent online garbage, chuck your tethered device out the window and come and join us, join us, get with the deeper feeling... Scots and ex-Scots all equally welcome. 

March 6th

There's a petulant elderly golfer with an itchy Twitter finger spreading dismay and havoc across the Free World, there's the wicked witch in office with her cabinet of evil gnomes cooking up another bout of fiscal harsh, there's a ton of real unplusgood horrorshow baloney cooking up every way you look, but you know what? There's also JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH coming at you as we'll be celebrating the slow turning of the seasons as the blackbirds liquid imprecations peal through the chilly gloaming and far away across the bare hillsides the seed quickens suddenly beneath the waiting loam .. So, you know, stop getting all stressy and come and check out the pure good vibes emanating from the dream team of special guest Paul "Nodens The Hunter" Richards (gtr) and Loz "Panic Button" Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, the fabulous otherworldly Bee's Team on quality liquor dispensing duties, and the regular crowd of hornswogglers, bushwackers, dimwits, nitwits, mugs, pugs, thugs, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, horse thieves, train robbers, ass-kickers and Methodists, not to mention our usual valued customers .. See you there! 

Bees Mouth - February 2017

Feb 27th

Maybe it's raining. Maybe you don't have a car. Maybe you're feeling part of the 'left behind', you can't afford the new iPhone but you're scared of androids, you feel like Warren Beatty just opened your golden envelope? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH is on hand to put a spring back into your step and a statuette into you sad little hands as they paw at the empty air, cos we've got the baddest non-gender specific gangster team since Bonnie and Clyde ready to lay out some choice musical bootlegs, namely Oli 'Raskolnikov' Howe on the virtual ivories and Loz 'Prince Oblonsky' Thomas on drums, aided by me on bass, while the transplendent Bee's Team wait, oscillating imperceptibly in the velvet dusk with a selection of the finest liquors ready known to humanity... Don't let the haters get you down or the fakers split you up, don't sit at home glued to the screen as Cambridge Analytica harvest your poor cowering data and send it off to the salt mines of Siberia, grab your axe down off the shelf and come and join us, it's like a rally only without all the horrible b*llshit, just the warm feeling of inclusion... 

Feb 20th

There's a massive protest kicking off in town of indignant monarchists determined to protect the modesty of our queen from the Orange Outrage.. Too bad you couldn't be there, but don't get all sheepish and defensive, cos JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH is on hand to let you express your solidarity with the good sh*t and your contemptuous disregard for the bad sh*t by getting down to the sweet sounds of swinging freedom as delivered by special guest Al "There's Another Beauty" Scott (pno) and Loz "The Baddest Judge" Thomas (drms) as they show what the expression 'fine tuned machine' is actually supposed to mean, aided by me on bass, as the radiant dryads and naiads of the Bee's team wait, poised, shimmering gently in the perfumed liminal space behind the well-stocked bar.. We all know the State Visit is going to happen anyway, it's all about expressing yourself, as the light quickens then dies in the west over the oily sea, the earth shudders on its axis, Venus ascends into the deepening blue, the breath of spring fans against your chapped tear-stained cheeks, and Fortuna's wheel continues to spin through the airless void of infinite possibility, don't get mad, get with it, grab yer axe down off the shelf and come and join us. 

Feb 13th

Here you are, artlessly roaming in digital wonderland, all lost and excited in BAFTAS and Grammys and stuff, going all La-La land over that groovy Mr Loach and his super-stylish parka - I know, what a statement! - and you’ve forgotten all about Valentines Day! Either that or you were just too ground down by the relentless tide of suffocating bullshit as the Prolonged Period of Uncertainty really girds it’s unwholesome loins and gets real.. JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is on hand to alleviate your on-line and offline woes; forget all that cornball single red rose and expensive pasta meal schtick, what non-gender-specific significant life partner could fail to be thrilled by the prospect of a pre-Valentines date spent being serenaded by those monsters of post-bop swing Luke “Laser Beam” Rattenbury (gtr) and special guest Angus Bishop (drms) as they smash together another life-affirming mashup of jazz/bop/soul/latinfunk/whatever, aided by me on bass, as the fragrant and irrepressible Bee’s team hover vibrating imperceptibly in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar, and the nameless denizens of the night drift in from the moonless blackness.... listen ........ step outside.... can you hear, above the tide’s retreating roar over the bitter shingle, the faint sussuration, high and icy, of the stars vibrating in their orbits in the measureless gulf of space? No? Maybe it’s your migraine coming back... come inside, it’s warm, the music will flow like wine, old friends are on the way, it’s going to be alright, join us, join us. 

Feb 6th

Ok, no messing about - this week we’re getting with the program and going with the flow, so it’s time to double down, speak up, take back control, go forward, sideways and upwards but always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom... grab a handful of the most aggressively assertive prepositions you can and smash them any old how onto some verbs and then take the whole lot down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where you can revel in the alternative facts being presented with love and humanity by the media maestros Luke “I’d Buy That For a Dollar” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “United States Of Mind” Thomas (drms) through the medium of good good music..I’ll be there on bass, the gently radiant beings of the Bee’s team will be waiting with smooth skins and glowing eyes in the scented darkness behind the well-stocked bar...... the internet is making idiots out of us all, so stop gazing open mouthed as the Great Orange Boil gargles and gesticulates all over your compromised newsfeed, quit writing those compromising e mails, delete your search history as far as your puny mortal powers allow you, finally tear your depressingly pointless Linkedin account into tiny bits, and come and join us in the four-dimensional sensory-surround, unrepeatable non-downloadable ineffable uncontrollable inexhaustible NOW... Don't cower miserably at home with a pretend headache like poor Ms Abbott, grab yer axe down off the shelf and come and sit in... you’ll feel good and so will we. 

Comrade Swing

Look at the wider world today, both abroad and at home, and you find yourself inundated with depressing headlines recording a global situation in which chronic divisions are increasingly being exploited and exacerbated by a political realm in which the best seem to lack all conviction, while the worst are unfortunately fuller than ever of an opportunistically passionate intensity. It’s been a relief to set aside the newspaper, log off from Facebook and immerse yourself in the feast of music spread out for us courtesy of the South Coast Jazz Festival as it returned for a third year, bigger and better than ever before. While so many of our political leaders seem intent on building walls and fostering disunity as hard as they can, festival supremos Claire Martin and Julian Nicholas are setting an inspiring counter-example by reaching out to involve and include as many aspects of the local scene as possible. In addition to the twelve events scheduled at the Ropetackle in Shoreham, theytook the potentially risky decision to program an additional twelve events at The Verdict in Brighton. Many on the scene were alert to the possibility of the audience being disastrously split between such an array of choice, but happily enthusiasm and commitment won the day, with record crowds and consistent sell-out shows throughout.  The open-minded spirit of collaboration that saw SCJF link arms with the New Generation Jazz project to bring the outstanding youngsters Jam Experiment, and with Safe House Collective to bring Rachel Musson’s freewheeling experimentalists, and to sell out both shows, can serve as an inspiring example of how unity can deliver results where narrow partisanship cannot. There was a great representation of oustanding local talent as well, and all kinds of well-attended and inspiring workshops and forums – here’s looking forward to next year.

    A couple of months ago this column commended the writings of poet, jazz enthusiast and political and cultural arch-conservative Philip Larkin to your attention. In the interests of balance it seems right to spend a little time this month with the writings of Larkin’s near-contemporary Eric Hobsbawn. Like Larkin, Hobsbawn was renowned in a different area of intellectual attainment, in his case historical analysis – like him, he maintained from his youth a passionate interest in jazz, and like him he indulged this passion by writing reviews which he initially published under thepseudonym of ‘Francis Newton’. Both in their own ways pillars of the British intellectual establishment, the two men couldn’t have been more different in their political convictions. Larkin, writing for The Daily Telegraph, was determinedly provincial, politically reactionary, and his jazz writing was an extension of his rejection of modernism – Hobsbawn was an archetypically cosmopolitan Marxist intellectual, and his reviews were published in that house magazine of the British left wing, The New Statesman. His career as a jazz writer, starting like Larkin’s in that annus mirabilis of 1959, was far longer than Larkin’s, encompassing the revival of the 1980s – you can find an excellent selection of it in the Faber paperback The Jazz Scene. 

    As you would expect, there are marked contrasts between the two men. Hobsbawn was politically and socially committed to progress as he understood it, just as Larkin was committed to conservatism, and this informs his writing. Hobsbawn was aware of jazz as a cultural phenomenon within a social context, and this led him to examine aspects of the scene that Larkin wasn’t interested in. His breakdown of the economics of jazz business in the 1960s gives an informed opinion of a little-regarded but essential aspect of the underpinnings of the scene; his sociological analysis of typical British jazz fans of the era is equally fascinating and perhaps surprising (the most represented occupations are ‘engineers and electricians’ – what would a similar survey reveal today?). Hobsbawn saw jazz as a music of protest, and the musicians and fans as placed within a framework of class and racial struggle, but he was also a fan and, as a white Englishman and a non-musician, an outsider in the same way that Larkin was. His 1963 history of jazz shares some of the self-conscious earnestness in categorising the music into ‘schools’ and evaluating their relative importance that was typical of his generation, and some of his judgements seem eccentrically at odds with today’s accepted canon –  writing in 1960, he classed Miles Davis as ‘a player of surprisingly narrow technical and emotional range… even within that range most of his records are not very good” – though he conceded that ‘some of Kind Of Blue contains genuinely imperishable stuff’. He shared some of Larkin’s distrust of the “excessively long, loud and undisciplined doodling” of the avant-garde – though he was an early supporter of Ornette, he thought Coltrane to be ‘in urgent need of sub-editing’. As befits a major analytical thinker, his work is full of detailed socio-cultural insights that Larkin, the poet, lacks. Yet despite their differences, both men came from the same social and cultural milieu – just as Larkin’s pathway to jazz started at his local Hippodrome, Hobsbawn remains the man who “at the age of sixteen, lost his heart for good to the Ellington band at its most imperial, playing what was called a ‘breakfast dance’ in a suburban London ballroom to an uncomprehending audience” – one of a generation who became entranced by a music that seemed so vital and exciting in the context of pre-war England,  but which remained impenetrably ‘other’ – admired, cherished and critically evaluated, but never owned. For an insider’s view of jazz as it progressed through the UK in the later years of the 20th century, we shall have to turn to another major writer, Val Wilmer – but that can wait for another edition. In the meantime, keep your eyes on the listings and keep going to the gigs!

Forward To Victory

2016 has certainly been a year to remember – good for right-wing demagogues, but bad for europhiles, pollsters and political pundits, though their discomfiture pales to insignificance compared to the travails endured by the unhappy citizens of Syria and Yemen.  The Grim Reaper seems to have been unusually active amongst the denizens of the world’s artistic communities, and the jazz-playing cohort has not been immune to his unwelcome attentions. We’ll be entering the uncharted waters of 2017 without the leading lights of such veterans of the tradition as Rudy Van Gelder, Mose Allison, bassist Bob Cranshaw and Toots Thielemans to guide us, while the progressive edge has lost the inimitable voices of  Bobby Hutcherson, Paul Bley and Alphonse Mouzon, and the wider international community is diminished by the loss of Nana Vasconcelos and Gato Barbieri. Jazz was also well served by the contributions of Billy Paul, Earth Wind and Fire’s Maurice White, and of course the inimitable and multi-monikered artist best known as Prince.
    Closer to home, the sad loss of Bobby Wellins is to be lamented, even as his imperishable legacy of world-class music making is to be celebrated. Another local legend of the same generation,  Pete Burden, equally respected by all who heard his bop-inflected alto playing, also sadly left us shortly after Christmas.  It makes the survival of such genre-shaping innovators as Sonny Rollins and Wayne Shorter – the latter returning to London in November to perform at the EFG Jazz Festival – all the more to be treasured. Shorter of course has a famous association with another veteran, Herbie Hancock, and the latter’s confirmation as a headliner for the 2017 Love Supreme Festival, along with the king of smooth grooves, nifty fretwork and pencil moustaches George Benson, is a real coup for the festival as it celebrates its fifth year.  What aspect of his prodigiously long and varied career will Herbie be presenting? There was plenty of debate over the viability of a greenfield jazz festival when Love Supreme started back in 2013, so it’s a real pleasure to see it thriving. The Bandstand Stage will be returning as well with its customary mix of the best of local and up-and-coming artists – we look forward to news of more acts as it arrives, and send out a request for clear skies, warm winds and, much as we love the open, cross-over vibe of the booking policy, perhaps a little more ‘straight’ jazz on the bill this year. The challenge is to get jazz players and fans engaging with different aspects of the current music scene, re-contextualising jazz as a part of the mainstream without diluting the essence of the music so much that it loses its identity, and despite the naysayers Love Supreme continues to lead the field in having a good old go at doing exactly this. 
    Returning indoors for a look around, the Verdict continues to bring us a weekly dose of the very best of UK jazz, with ever more international artists beating a path to its door as its reputation continues to spread. Something else to celebrate is the extension of the Arts Council’s support for the New Generation Jazz programme, bringing the best of the UK’s new jazz artists to the Verdict once a month for a gig and a workshop – that’s now set to run all the way through 2017 and beyond, so prepare to be dazzled by the impetuous brilliance of youth on a regular basis. Heartening as well to see how the Verdict has now enfolded both the noble traditionalism of Small’s Jazz Club and the fearless experimentalism of Safe House Collective beneath its ever more splendidly accommodating wings – the key to survival is surely to reject factionalism and embrace as many aspects of the ever-diversifying legacy as possible. 
    2017 is already set for something of a theme of triumphant returns – let’s hear it for the South Coast Jazz Festival, back for the third year running and now spreading its welcome attentions away from its home-base in Shoreham’s Ropetackle Centre to bring a whole host of exciting events to Brighton including a great spread of local talent. It’s a real achievement for Julian Nicholas, Claire Martin and the team, and another welcome sign of the willingness of the Arts Council to support jazz after the demise of Jazz Services.
    Meanwhile for your quotidian needs there’s a host of grassroots gigs on offer as well on most nights of the week, from bar gigs to jam sessions – check the back pages of this publication for more details. Let’s not be tempted to rest on our laurels though – 2017 promises to deliver a hefty dose of political and economic uncertainty, and the arts will need continued support. There’s more diversity and vitality in the South Coast jazz scene than there has been for a long time – let’s not forget to mention the burgeoning scenes in Hastings, Margate and Rye as well, as some of our finest players seek refuge there from the increasingly unaffordable cost of London living  – but if we don’t use it, we’re going to lose it, so keep coming to the gigs!
 
South Coast Jazz Festival
16th – 29th January 2017

Love Supreme Festival
30th June – 2nd July 2017

 Rye Jazz Festival

Margate Jazz Festival

Deal Festival

New Generation Jazz

 The Verdict, Brighton
 

Bees Mouth - December 2016 / January 2017

Jan 30th

Well, that was quick, wasn’t it? As you find yourself unable to frame any sort of adequate response to the streams of high-velocity molten bullshit shooting out from the Great Orange Abscess across the water, apart from wondering whether to delete your Uber app or not, you may well wonder if we have actually finally reached the state promised by Dr Tom Lehrer where we’re beyond satire... fortunately JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is still around to provide an anchor of hot swinging musical continuity in a fast-changing world, so stop gazing glumly at your stupid Fake News feed and wondering in a disempowered way what absurd retrogressive step is going to come crawling across the screen next, or re-framing the special relationship as something akin to the bond between flies and dogsh*t - go and join your nearest protest, then go and get your life-affirming self down to where the tireless team of Luke “Million Man” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Spartacus” Thomas (drms) will be kicking up a fuss and keeping the flame of musical positivity alive in the interests of you and me and the good times... I’ll be there on bass, Jack and his radiant team of heavenly creatures will be dispensing quality liquors and good cheer from behind the well-stocked bar, all kinds of the nameless creatures of the night will drift in and out but all are welcome as long as they don’t harsh the vibe cos that’s the way we run it... grab your axe and come and sit in with us, keep the faith, don’t lose the feeling. 

Jan 23rd

OMG! Still swamped with ALL the feels after the most bigly presidential inauguration broadcast since, like, ever? Still trying to push up the metrics on your flagging socials, waiting for your data to be harvested, watching Mrs May going hard hard hard on the singles market like a demented Tinder addict? You need some alternative facts, Jack, so empower yourself with a pink vagina hat* and march on over to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH to dig on some of the hot swinging music that’s already brewing up thanks to the tirelessly inventive mojos workin’ away for Luke ‘Mr Hands” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Million Dollar Baby” Thomas (drms) ... Mr Jack and his newly refreshed Bee’s team will be waiting in the scented shadows with libations of the finest liquors known to man, so let the carnival of grotesque buffoons continue on it’s tackily gaudy way through the barren stasis of the bleak midwinter to it’s inevitably messy end ... who cares if you’ve done your tax return or not, throw caution to the winds, outside in the blasted hedgerow the sap is already commencing it’s slow rise, Fortuna’s wheel is ever spinning, the fakers gonna fake fake fake and the haters gonna hate hate hate but we’re just gonna shake shake shake it out. 

*optional.

Jan 16th

Nothing like a little inauguration to get you through the gloomy days of winter.. There's some difficulty with the entertainment apparently, but much as we appreciate ungrammatical Twitter tsunamis of vindictive drivel, we won't be able to oblige because JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE'S MOUTH is kind of a full-time commitment for guys with the freedom-loving credentials of Luke 'Fifth Amendment' Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz 'Fifth Element' Thomas (drms) and anyway the main guy is apparently a bit of a bad payer.. So why not take a break from the fascinating spectacle of the NHS buckling under the sheer quantity of bullsh*t being slung at it by our unelected representatives, and get down to let it all hang out with us .. Sip a little liquor, dig the vibes, get with the beat, remember ars longa, vita brevis an all that jazz... It's not over yet, oh no, oh no. 

Jan 9th

Commuters! Still struggling in a mewling clusterf*ck up the failing lines, like the mucus congesting the sinuses of a million returning schoolchildren? Feel like just giving up? Jump on your hoverboard and mosey over to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEES MOUTH to get a glimpse of a different world, far from the dreary squabbles of the preposterous meat puppets that have somehow become elevated to positions of worldly power or online supremacy .. We'll be doing our timeless non-materialistic swing-to-bop-to-whatever thing along to the killer grooves of Luke 'terminator' Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz 'the herbaliser' Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, and the ever-genial ROB HOGG will be presiding behind the well-stocked bar, deep within the scented shadows, safe from spreadsheets, replacement bus services, vloggers, joggers and bloggers... Haters gonna hate, fakers gonna fake, we're just gonna shake it out, so get with the beat daddi-o. 

Jan 2nd

Are you still trying to squeeze the last dregs of fun-filled irresponsibility from the limp dishrag of the festive season? Or are you paused with indrawn breath, bracing yourself against the inevitability of the Prolonged Period of Uncertainty that’s bearing down upon us like a massive juggernaut full of horrible bullsh*t, with Fortuna blithely texting at the wheel? Don’t freak out, man, cos it’s JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and the so-fresh-so-clean team of Luke ‘Killa” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Thrilla” Thomas (drms) are in full effect ready to create an dazzling kaleidoscope of hot swinging sounds to remind us of all the good things stored up just over the effulgent horizon, smeared with the lustrous gold of midwinter... let the revolting carnival of degraded demagogues belch, hoot and gibber their way into the inevitable dustbin of history via the replacement bus service of irrelevance, we’ll be hanging out with the sylphs and dryads of the Bee’s team as they wait languorously in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar, grooving on some righteous swing-to-bop-to-whatever, keeping the faith with our own bad selves and generally getting set for the next leg of the journey...Don’t let your hangover hang you up, come along, climb aboard, take a seat, join us, join us..... Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late.

Dec 19th

It’s just so unfair! Here you all are, swimming frantically in a post-truth floodtide of moral relativism, false equivalence, neo-fascist resurgence, fragmented identity politics, sleepwalking environmental catastrophe and gaslighting by the hegemonic elite, and you’re still somehow obliged to buy everyone frickin’ Xmas prezzies? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH re-balance your chakras and restore your pitifully flagging Chi with the sweet swinging sounds of Luke ‘Million Dollar’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Cash Money’ Thomas (drms) as they demonstrate once again that some areas of meaningful human endeavour will always be resistant to automation, and that Artificial Intelligence will never be a substitute for the real thing, cos they’ve got the groove, they’ve got feeling, they’ve got a devil-may-care approach to the tradition, they’ve got me on bass, and the ever-genial ROB HOGG will be live and direct behind the well stocked bar, ready to revive your smashed amour-propre with a goblet of the finest liquor known to man.... only a couple of days before the earth tilts again on it’s axis, in the barren hinterlands of winter a new life starts to stir, hidden deep in the iron buds of the stripped hedgerows, and half sensed in the bitter wind blowing in from across the fields that spread out in the silent darkness beyond the town’s hectic glare... can you feel it? Can you feel it? Join us, let’s keep the flame alive. Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9-11pm.

Larkin' About

The autumn touring schedule has made it impossible for me to attend a single one of the many amazing gigs that comprise the EFG London Jazz Festival, and all that I’ve had to console for missing (yet again) the priceless opportunity of seeing Wayne Shorter is the chance purchase of a copy of Philip Larkin’s All What Jazz: A Record Diary 1961–71, comprising record reviews that he wrote for the Daily Telegraph. Jazz critics, and critics in general, find themselves in an equivocal situation, trying to sustain their careers by gleaning crumbs dropped from the table of actual artists, with such creativity as they can muster entirely employed in assessing the creativity of others. Larkin is an exception – the writer of The Whitsun Weddings, who was offered and refused the post of Poet Laureate, has a claim to artistic stature in his field equal to those of the great musicians of the Golden Age whose seminal albums he reviewed – usually unkindly. 
    His personal reputation is rather another matter – there was a mixture of consternation, and probably some schadenfreude from vindicated modernists when Larkin’s personal correspondence revealed a morass of unpleasant opinions that were all firmly on the wrong side of what’s currently acceptable in those most fraught of contemporary subjects, racism and misogyny. At the very least, the epistolary light shone upon a man whose views were very typical of someone of his age, class and gender; his shortcomings in these areas were widely shared in the contemporary attitudes upon which so much effort has since been expended in our efforts to build a better society. Larkin’s writings on jazz give us an insight into how that music was received into unexpected areas of British society in the early years, and reveal a window into a very different world. 
    Larkin started reviewing in 1961, when he was nearly forty. In his youth he had been a passionate jazz fan and an amateur drummer – ‘few things have given me greater pleasure in life than listening to jazz’ declared this man who built his reputation upon an unsparingly incisive dismantling of the supposed joys of material existence. He discovered jazz in the first golden age of the 1930s, when Armstrong was contemporary and Basie, Goodman and Ellington were the avant-garde. The war and the American Federation Of Recording Musicians intervened, and like many of his generation he lost touch with jazz in the 1940s and early 50s;  but when he was offered the review column in the Telegraph he approached it as ‘a jazz lover, someone unquestionably on the wavelength of Congo Square…. though I knew jazz had been changing, I didn’t believe it could alter out of all recognition any more that the march or the waltz could’.  
    Larkin thus came into the era of Coltrane, Coleman, Miles and Cecil Taylor with expectations shaped by the era of Bix Beiderbecke and Muggsy Spanier and was utterly horrified by what he found. It’s standard practice now to present the development of jazz as an apostolic succession, so that echoes of King Oliver can be traced in Freddie Hubbard and Sidney Bechet in John Coltrane, and each new generation of musicians is careful to show due reverence for the past; this attitude was not always so prevalent. Larkin considered what he found as ‘modern jazz’ to be utterly alienated from its roots – claiming that ‘nearly every characteristic of the music had been neatly inverted’ in the progression from the hot, syncopated dance music of the pre-war era to what he saw as the enervated intellectualism of the modernists. 
    Of course, Larkin had a general dislike of Modernism in all the arts, which he saw as an artificial fixation with experimenting with form at the expense of content. His critique of modern jazz in particular was echoed by many jazz fans of his generation in the UK though, and displays a socio-cultural undertone. What attracted them to jazz was its ‘hot’ character – the vigourously upbeat mood, the simplicity of form, the primacy of rhythm over harmony, the wide, almost-human vibrato and tonal exaggeration of the soloists that set the music firmly apart from the European classical tradition. You could uncharitably describe it as a fetishisation of a supposedly primitive ‘other’ which appealed precisely because it had none of the restraints of ‘high’ culture, and which could be safely appropriated by a dominant elite – such as Oxford-educated Larkin would neatly embody. The haughty intellectualism of Miles, the audible rage of Shepp and the spiritual ambitions of Coltrane were a direct challenge to this attitude. Duncan Heining has described in his excellent Trad Dads and Free Fusioneers how older British fans felt alienated by the way that, as they saw it, the music that they loved had been turned against them. The overt black nationalism of the radical 1960s generation seemed to deliberately exclude them even further. Yet, like Larkin, they genuinely loved jazz as they understood it, and felt a deep connection with the music of their youth; it seems unfair to dismiss them entirely as privileged cultural appropriators. Larkin tried to swallow the modernist pill, and though he’s famous for his hatchet jobs, his reviews also contain many sympathetic and positive insights. He was also perceptive enough to realise that many of the qualities he looked for in jazz had migrated into rock and roll; and any artist today struggling with their grant application, or trying to wrangle a decent fee out of promoters, will surely recognise his prescience when he wrote “the jazz band in the night club declined, and jazz moved, ominously, into the culture belt… concert halls, university recital rooms and summer schools …. this was bound to make the re-establishment of an artist-audience nexus more difficult, for universities have long been recognised as the accepted stamping-ground for the subsidised acceptance of art rather than the real purchase of it”.
    The consequences of the cultural schism that opened up when the be-boppers stopped playing to the paying customers and set their sights upon a loftier cultural and artistic status are still not resolved, and Larkin’s writings give an insight into a perspective that is seldom heard today, but still contains a framing of issues that cannot be completely dismissed. Though how many today would agree with his assessment of Monk – “a not-very-successful comic, as his funny hats proclaimed; his faux naif elephant dance piano style, with its gawky intervals and absence of swing made doubly tedious by his limited repertoire” ? Or Coltrane – “metallic and passionless nullity giving way to exercises in gigantic absurdity, great boring excursions on not-especially-attractive themes upon which all possible changes were wrung, extended excursions of oriental tedium, long-winded and portentous demonstrations of religiosity” ? 
    The old grouch certainly had a way with words, though I’m not sure I can forgive him for his comments on bass solos – “arid stretches of thirty-two or even sixty-four bars when some fervent bassist, aware that his instrument was ‘set free’ by Jimmy Blanton, demonstrates its half-audible limitations while the rest of the band rest their lips. Why? The bass is not an elephantine guitar – to make it sound like one is to use the foundation stone for the cornice”. Is nothing sacred?

Bees Mouth - October/November 2016

28th November

Fidel’s secret wardrobe is finally opened, to reveal a range of snazzy hawaiian shirts, tuxedos and spangled jumpsuits.. Anonymous hackers claim responsibility for Black Friday.. The Trump announces that he actually loves those gayers and mexicoids, but he’s deffo going to get tough on alien abductions starting NOW.. who knows what the hell is going to happen next? It’s enough to send you a bit Kanye, so best get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH before anything else happens, and relax in the certainty that Luke “Improbability Drive” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “42” Thomas (drms) will be ready and waiting to spin their web of musical enchantment with the hottest slickest grooves in town, aided by me on bass, plus a whole cast of musos, winos, wierdos, psychonauts, cosmic voyagers, dweebs, hucksters, shills, barkers, plus our valued regulars and the peerless Bee’s team, lurking in the scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar like the very embodiment of your secret desire... don’t let it get to you, get to it first, then grab yer axe down off the shelf and come and join us, celebrate, let’s have a good time. 

21st November

Here you are, thrashing about in the septic swamp of post-factual infotainment, ears ringing from the endless trumpery being trumpeted about by the malign chorus of fake news outlets, or ‘liars’ as we used to call them in the the pre-digital age, eyes blinking in the pitiless glare reflected from the golden lift, nostrils smarting from the acrid friction stench of ineffectual liberal handwringing... JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is on hand to throw you a lifeline, as those stalwart heroes of the groove Luke ‘Luke’ Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Loz’ Thomas (drms) throw down an endless stream of all-inclusive soulful swinging music, aided by me on hastily reconfigured bass, and the diverse and tolerant Bee’s team wait in the fragrant shadows that still cluster behind the well-stocked bar, despite the chill winds blowing in from the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty, ready to hand over a healing libation of top-quality liquor... don’t sit at home hypnotised by the glowing screen, giving up the meagre details of your insignificant existence to be harvested by the malignant Chthulu-type entities who lurk in the interstices of the digital flow, reducing you to a dreary little pile of stats ready to be mis-interpreted by the blind gibbering augurs who compile opinion polls or traded by some algorhythm that no-one even understands anymore .... grab yer axe down off the shelf and come and join us out here in the torrid joyful jungles of meatspace, come try it, you’ll like it.

14th November

The reality of the prolonged period of uncertainty is such that it’s beyond the power of the most exquisitely composed Facebook post to pour calming oil upon the troubled waters without it resembling Deepwater Horizon.. Lehrer declared satire to be dead thanks to Kissinger, but now the Trump has revived it and is dancing the mambo with it’s rotting corpse around his gold-plated elevator, while Farage gargles out swivel-eyed yelps of applause - let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH provide a haven of consistency in a fast-changing world thanks to the unswerving dedication of Luke “String Theory” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Hadron Collider” Thomas (drms) as they shift into another dimension through the glowing portal opened in the space-time continuum by the sheer irresistibility of their subatomic swing, aided by me on terrestrial bass...... let the lambent eyed, sylph-like Bees’ team select a healing libation for you from amidst the mysterious scented shadows behind the well-stocked bar, let the music take control... meanwhile, in the disquieting November warmth spreading it’s unwholesome breath across beleagured Europe, let Ms May screech and flap her dusty wings like a repulsive vulture, let Madame Le Pen pout like a sullen milkmaid, let Putin snicker like a malignant hobgoblin, let’s come together one more time under the super-moon for some music and moonlight, love and romance, let’s face the music and dance.

7th November

So there you are, huddled in the suddenly freezing darkness, staring out saucer-eyed as what used to called the Western World slides slowly ever closer towards the gaping gelid maw of the Trump like a medieval vision of hell with added doses of sexual harrassment... it’s a grim old do, alright, so you might as well just cast caution to the winds, say ‘the hell with it’ and get yerself down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where you can let it all wash away in the healing torrent of soulful swinging music emanating from those supreme justices Luke “Law Lord” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Court Of Appeal” Thomas as they execute the only will of the people that really matters - to come together for a while, fellow brief candles, before our little lives are rounded with a sleep, enjoy a libation proffered up by the ever-fragrant Bee’s team, catch a vibe, tap yer feet to the ever-present pulse, send a message of hope to your neighbour, remember the dude abides. Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9-11pm.

3rd October

After a totally intense weekend, adjusting your clean eating, checking your privilege, maintaining your virtue signalling, fighting your FOMO,  keeping a sharp eye out for greenwashing, gaslighting and the running dogs of late-stage capitalist oppression, how the hell are you gonna manage to kick back and re-connect with your own bad self? Get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTHand get your mojo upgraded by the dream team of Luke “TenSnake” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Irridescent Explosion” Thomas (drms) as they smash out another tempest of hot swinging blues-to-bop-to-whatever aided by me on the bass thing, as those weavers of dreams who make up the Bee’s team wait patiently amidst the scented shadows bearing libations of the finest liquors known to humanity, while the last drops of the season’s sweet wine drain slowly from the bleaching sky and the swallows skitter upon the chilling updraughts, the fading dome resounding to their wild cleansing cacophony of tiny cries, ready to depart but not yet, not yet, we’re not over yet... join us as we promise to trigger a musical article 50 under your weary souls, let’s take control ... Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late.

1st October

Listen, there’s simply not the time these days, what with dedicating yourself to full-time gender-fluid attachment parenting whilst embracing the gig economy, building your social capital, taking ayahuasca, remembering what day the recycling goes out and trying to figure out if C-Beebies is just another example of outrageous media bias.... don’t freak out, baby, just drag your 21-st century ass down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and let it all hang out to the exciting sounds of now as delivered by Luke “The Truth” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “The Light” Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, and the supernaturally lithe and tanned Bee’s team, standing by to fulfill all your exotic beverage requests.... there’s room for everyone, let’s build bridges not walls, let the music take control... Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

Jazzmatazz

  Anyone with more than a passing interest in jazz, an internet connection and a confident command of key stage 2 reading abilitiescan’t have failed to notice the amount of press coverage being given to LA based saxophonist, composer and bandleader Kamasi Washington. His expansive personality and grand gesture approach have given journalists plenty to work with; and his association with Kendrick Lamarr, and hence by association the Glasper-led world of where jazz meets hip hop, has given the impression that he’s spearheading that most beloved of media phenomena – a Movement. Indeed, an article making exactly that claim appeared in the Guardian recently; and what it said, and how it was received, gives us an insight into some current trends of jazz opinion – you can read it for yourself here.

 The article’s author, John Lewis, drew attention to the supposed connection between the latest crop of jazz artists and the parallel world of contemporary hip-hip. The link between jazz and hip hop has been made many times, and it is worth examining it before we proceed, because although practically a commonplace in some quarters nowadaysit’s by no means always been universally accepted. On the face of it, jazz and hip-hop might seem to have little in common, and in fact to be diametrically opposed in many of their artistic fundamentals. What could be more different that the organically shifting,  endlessly dynamic polyrhythms of an Elvin Jones groove and the blunt, robotic bludgeon of a one-bar sampled drum loop? How to comparethe sophisticateddensityof a Bill Evans reharmonisation with a genre that happily dispenses with harmony and even melody completely? The improvised phrasing of a rappers’ flow has been likened to that of a jazz soloist, but vocal and lyrical improvisation are common featuresof many musical styles, and don’t necessarily confer automatic jazz authenticity. Even a moderately successful career in jazz requires a level of technical and theoretical accomplishment that takes years of dedication to master, but many successful hip-hop practitioners have no formal musical skills at all. Yet the two styles are linked, and this connectionis as much to do with history as it is with form; both are expressions of black american identity. Though both have grown to become truly global styles, the originators of both genres were predominantly black americans, and the continuity between the traditions is illustrated by the fact that more than a few hip hop artists have jazz musicians as parents. Despite this, hip-hop was initially regarded with suspicion by some sectors of the jazz community – commentators like Paul Tingen have decried it as a betrayal of the progressive and aspirational values supposedly embodied by jazz, of perpetuating negative stereotypes of everything from criminality to musical primitivism (Wynton Marsalis, predictably, didn’t approve at all, branding hip-hop as ‘ghetto minstrelsy’) . Still, hip hop is where the audience went, especially the young black audience, and jazz artists wishing to recapture them were obliged to follow. Miles led the way, as he had so many times before, butdied while the results were still inconclusive, as they were in many of the other attempts by the older generation to investigate this new territory.  Hip-hop didn’t really reciprocate the interest til the early 90s, when acts like Gang Starr, Digable Planets, Us3 and Guru started featuring jazz samples and actively courting the attention of the jazz audience, but by this time such a gulf had opened up between traditional practitioners of jazz (especially the new conservatism of Marsalis et al) and mainstream blackmusical culture that attempts to bridge both were only sporadically successful, despite such satisfying results as Ron Carter’s collaboration with Tribe Called Quest on The Low End Theory, and the scene sort of fizzled out. Jazz seemed increasingly to exist in a separate, rarefied sphere, away from the commercial mainstream; though it was still acknowledged as as kind of signifier of sophistication, such as in the hugely successful St Germain project, which was basically lightweight ambient house with jazz samples and jazzy flute solos as a kind of garnish. Genuine attempts to marry jazz and hip hop that actually displayed a real grasp of the essentials of both styles were rare – the UK’s own Steve Williamson deserves an honourable mention here for his undeservedly neglected pioneering work, especially the astonishing and hard to find Journey To Truth from 1992 – listen to this extract and see if you agree.

    Returning to Lewis’ article, the essence of his position seems to be that artists like Glasper and Washington have incorporated the sounds of hip hop and electronic dance music in general because they grew up with them, so that the language of contemporary jazz now borrows from the vocabulary of hip hop rather than the other way round. This, as far as it goes, is demonstrably true, and not just in the US – bands like Gogo Penguin, The Comet Is Coming and Sons Of Kemet have expanded their jazz-based vocabulary with stylistic innovations that originate in the UK’s own rich history of electronica, dub, bass music and all forms of general bashment, and the trend can be seen in any jam sessionwhere eager young tyros insist on playing standards with a ‘slugging’ backbeat. But the article also generated a certain amount of indignant spluttering from some quarters of the jazz community – those who aren’t keen on the artists championed therein objected to what they saw as an arbitrary, media-and-product-driven promotion of this particular brand of jazz, at the expense of other, equally deserving artists who aren’t a part of the phenomenon. Others thought that the attempts of an older generation to incorporate contemporary sounds were unnecessarily belittled and disparaged, and that the writer showed a shallow, faddish eagerness to grasp at the future and disregard the past. Issues of ownership always arise whenever an artist or critic makes a claim on the music’s future; jazz music does have a troubled relationship with its own legacy, and there is a tension between respect and love for the tradition and the desire to move forwards. Miles and Hancock both explicitly declared themselves to be innovators, drawing in their different ways on contemporary pop, and both also attempted to incorporate hip-hop into their music with uncertain results. Neither Doo-Bop or Dis Is Da Drum seem to be acclaimed as career high points. The current generation have internalised the language of electronic music because they grew up with it, and the results have been popular with young musicians and audiences, (and naturally with record company PR departments as well).  – I don’t think John Lewis is making any greater claims than that, despite the sub-editor’s hyperbolic headline. How significant Glasper or Kamasi’s music will prove to be in the long term, only posterity can judge; it’s worth remembering that even such canonised geniuses as Miles, Hancock, Ornette and Coltrane weren’t universally feted throughout their careers, and all benefitted from the powerful and well-funded PR departments at Atlantic or Columbia, so PR has always had a part to play in creating careers and reputations – but sadly it is not always proportionate to artistic merit.  But each generation chooses its own idols; a lot of musicians I know in their 20s discovered jazz after growing up listening to hip-hop, and Glasper is an important figure for them. Each generation chooses it’s own idols. Hancock, Shorter and Zawinul came across hip-hop as older people who had grown up in an era when jazz was still pop music; but for Glasper et al hip hop is the music of their generation, and they’ve appropriated some of it’s tropes in a way that makes their music appealing to people of the same age or younger. That’s what this article seems to me to be exploring, and I don’t think the intention is to disparage the achievements of the past – all the players quoted here are very keen to acknowledge their debt to Miles in particular. 

    At the end of the day, it can only be healthy for jazz to absorb contemporary influences, and for players and fans alike to have open ears for diverse musical styles – it all helps to ensure the continuity of the music. Innovation and tradition should balance – in the words of Liam Noble, “Everything has been done before, but can you make it personal, feel like we are hearing it for the first time?”. Surely this is the standard by which all music, futuristic or traditional, should ultimately be judged.

Autumn Leaves

Autumn is traditionally a time of announcements in the world of showbiz, to which jazz finds itself attached, often with a certain reluctance, in our late-stage capitalist society. Music biz executives return to their artfully dressed-down offices after their August holidays – promoters and agents re-group after the summer festival season – arts centres ponder their funding applications and launch their winter schedules. There’s some exciting autumn tours headed for Brighton – this month sees The Impossible Gentlemen return to The Old Market, with Mike Walker and Gwilym Simcock now joined in the frontline by multi-reedsman Iain Dixon; the welcome return masterminded by self-effacing supremo David Forman, who’s also managed to lure seldom-heard international star Jason Rebello to The Verdict for a one-off intimate show in November. Indefatigable guitar hero Nigel Price includes the same venue in his record-breaking 56-date tour, while the next month sees the debut of Laura Jurd’s eagerly anticipated new ensemble and transatlantic collaborations from Andrew Bain and Jay Phelps, among many other delights. This column has always promoted an ecumenical approach to jazz appreciation, so we’re pleased  to record the arrival of two new regular promotions under The Verdict roof – the free-improv crew behind Safe House, and the all-acoustic swing classicists of Smalls jazz bring their very different but, one hopes, not mutually exclusive interpretations of the tradition to our favourite basement. South Coast Jazz Festival gets busy as well, widening its remit to bring Incognito to The Old Market in December for kind of warm-up show for the 2017 main event. In the wider picture, the EFG London Jazz Festival has announced its line-up, Serious have announced a slew of autumn tours, Neil Cowley has enjoyed a surprise Spotify hit with his new release (more on this in next month’s column), and the planet’s most swinging Scientologist Chick Corea is celebrating his 75th birthday by performing no less than 177 gigs in 26 different ensembles with some 60 different musicians. 
    This September also marks an anniversary – it’s a year since New Generation Jazz was launched at the Verdict. The project was conceived by your columnist and trumpeter/bandleader Jack Kendon with the intention of providing a platform for the next generation of young jazz musicians to make themselves heard in Brighton, and equally to foster and encourage interest and engagement in the music amongst the burgeoning community of young musicians in the town. It’s hard for unknown players to get a gig outside London, as promoters are understandably unwilling to take a risk on someone that their regular punters won’t have heard of – as we’ve noted before, jazz audiences can tend towards conservatism in musical taste if not in general sociopolitical outlook. Equally, for young players, the jazz world can seem like an intimidatingly closed shop, its players remote an inaccessible and its practice too complex to pick up by ear alone. New Generation was fortunate to secure Arts Council funding to underwrite the gigs and provide extra promotion to reach beyond the usual audience, and also to draw upon the goodwill of the musicians involve to pair each gig with a free workshop to make their knowledge and enthusiasm accessible to our young musicians, with the hope of inspiring them to pursue their interest further and feed into the local scene.
    Inspired by the long-established success of Tomorrow’s Warriors as a breeding ground for new talent, we started the series last October with a storming gig from Warriors leader Gary Crosby, plus an inspirational workshop delivered with Empirical’s Nathaniel Facey to an audience of enraptured BIMM students – only slightly delayed when Gary’s satnav mysteriously re-routed him in the direction of Ditchling. Thanks to support from the local community, especially Andy Lavender and John Easterby at The Verdict, the profile has continued to grow, enjoying regular sell-outs and attracting fresh faces each time.  We’ve also had the pleasure of being able to feature some of our favourite bands at the Love Supreme festival thanks to our collaboration with organisers Neapolitan. We’ve brought workshops into local schools like Dorothy Stringer and BHASVIC as well as running open sessions at The Verdict. And we’ve had the privilege of working with some of the finest young players in the UK today, and the satisfaction of seeing sell-out crowds respond with the  same enthusiasm we’ve felt when we booked them. 
    Anyway, this month’s gig by the mighty Tom Green Septet is the last in the  current series – but the story’s not over. Thanks to continuing support from all our partners, and especially Arts Council England, we’ll be returning after an October break with another 14 months worth of gigs, to run right through to the end of 2017. We can’t wait for the next chapter to begin!

Bees Mouth - September 2016

28th September

As Jeremy ascends serenely heavenwards riding upon a gigantic golden mandate, and his hapless opponents cower together, hooting and gibbering like terrified chimpanzees, upon whatever shrinking patches of centre ground still remain above the rising floodwaters of intransigent online optimism, are you struggling ever so slightly to maintain the necessary enthusiastic or despairing opinions in front of your peer group? JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH may hold the Way Forward, cos we’ve got the continually re-selected team of Luke “Clause IV” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “One Member, One Vote” (drms) on hand to lay down a musical manifesto guaranteed to bring the people together, aided by me somewhere on bass, with the consistently poll-topping Bee’s Team on hand to dispense healing libations of the finest liquors known to humanity, while the oracular Spinning Head is ready to dispense political wisdom as valid as anything else you’ll read on social media today .... kick back for the night and let the politicos take the strain, it’s what they claim their expenses for after all, let the music refresh your weary senses, heal your poor over-stimulated mind,  and make you feel clean again, you dig? Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

19th September

After the non-stop thrills and spills of that showbiz extravaganza known to us enticingly as ‘The Annual TUC Conference’, there can be scarcely a citizen amongst us who isn’t secretly yearning for the Lib Dem Conference to kick off next week and bring the party with full effect...but do the intervening days leave you feeling flat, yearning for more cheap thrills?  Plug that gap in your funseeker’s calendar by tearing off your conference nametag and shimmying over to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH, where the tireless team of Luke ‘Akon’ Rattenbury’ (gtr) and Loz ‘Pitbull’ Thomas (drms) will be tearing into the customary hot licks and cool grooves, aided by me on bass, while the peerless Bee’s team will be lending their otherwordly beauty to entice you from across the well-stocked bar, like the sirens of ancient myth but with more respect for customer’s ongoing wellbeing... it’s going to go off like a well-engineered and financially viable nuclear power station, so don’t miss the fun, daddi-o, get full of that healing feeling before the darkness returns... Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

12th September

Spent a frustrating weekend? Perhaps you were stuck in the iPod an ignominious few yards above the ground watching as your co-travellers relieved themselves of excess complimentary sparkling wine into a low-tech bucket? Maybe you were hoping the rains would come and wash the smug looks off the faces of the self-employed on monday morning? Maybe you tried to catch a train or park a car somewhere in Brighton? Whatever, it’s pay-off time now, cos JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is rolling your way on the well-oiled wheels of musical creativity, with those captains of swing Luke “Lightning” Rattenbury (gtr) ad Loz “The Speed Demon” Thomas (drms) at the controls ready to take you on a ride to a world of mystery and imagination where the words ‘replacement bus service’ hold no terror, while I play something or other on bass and the Bee’s Team’s aetherial flight attendants stand by with libations of the finest liquors known to humanity... don’t waste your time chasing mirages across the glimmering sands of cyberspace, don’tsit there aghast as ‘Cruella’ May works through the entire Tory wish-list from Brexit to grammar schools to military service and public flogging, let’s live in the now, the swallows are not yet fled nor the vine withered, come and join us, join us. Bee’s Mouth Western Raod 9pm-late

13th September

Sure, you worked hard, played hard, and now you’re a big-shot high-flyer, cutting deals before breakfast, running with the high rollers and playing to win, feared and envied by all who know you, up on the penthouse suite gaming the gamers... but what will you do when it comes for you, in the unquiet night or in the merciless height of noon, the icy grip of fear that presages the slow, inevitable moment when you’re forced to confront the howling void at the heart of everything you do, the futility of all your schemes in the face of your impending extinction? Lighten up, mate, get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH where those fearless warriors of light Luke ‘Good Times” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Mr Party’ Thomas (drms) will be laying down enough good grooves and hot licks to quell the most chronicexistential angst, aided by me on bass, while the mystic sylphs and mermen of the Bee’s team will be dispensing quality liquors and simple humanity from deep within the scented shadows of the well-stocked bar, and the night will be alive with good vibrations to keep the darkness at bay.... don’t resort to stuffing your aging carcass with horrible drugs or trying ever more unsavoury expedients to keep your flagging carnal appetites alive, don’t grind your fellow humans underfoot in your desperate haste to run away from who you are and what awaits you at the end of the night or in the pitiless glare of morning, embrace the light, join us, join us. Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm - late. 

The Recording Angel

In jazz history, the period hailed as the Golden Era is rather a moveable feast – Dixieland purists and similar mouldy figs may insist that the title cannot be accorded any later than the onset of the Great Depression, William P Gottlieb appropriated it for his riveting collection of photographs from the 1930s and 1940s, but for many today it’s the post-Parker years of the 1950s and 1960s that define the seminal phase of the music’s development. Albums such as  Thelonious Monk’s Genius of Modern Music, Miles Davis’ Bags Groove, and his Prestige series Walkin’/Cookin’/Relaxin’/Steamin’, Sonny Rollins’ Saxophone Colossus, Horace Silver’s Jazz Messengers, Art Blakey’s Moanin’ and Cannonball Adderley’s Somethin’ Else shaped the way that the bop experiments of the 40s became the new hip mainstream – to be followed by a bifurcated pathway as players gravitated towards the funk epitomised by Lee Morgan’s The Sidewinder, or set off into uncharted waters, returning with such glorious discoveries as Wayne Shorter’s Speak No Evil, Cecil Taylor’s Conquistador, Eric Dolphy’s Out To Lunch, and  the universally acknowledged masterpiece that is Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. All the above works taken together, diverse as they are, could form the cornerstone of a good, comprehensive modern jazz collection – and remarkably all were recorded by the same man, in suburban New Jersey, in his own studio originally located in the living room of his parent’s house. Rudy Van Gelder passed away this week at the age of 93, one of the lone survivors from a mythical age when musical giants walked the earth, leaving behind him a discography that runs into the thousands and defines the sound of a crucial era of the music’s history. As the number one choice of recording technician for both Blue Note and Prestige  records he played a pivotal role in defining the sound of those labels at the time when they themselves were defining the sound of jazz, and later work for Impulse! and Verve was equally trendsetting; his later work for CTI was as broadly influential, if not as well-loved by the critics.  He oversaw every aspect of the recording process, meticulously positioning each microphone with white-gloved hands, tracking and mixing everything himself and even cutting the final LP masters on his own lathes. By today’s standards, his methods were very simple – many of his seminal recordings were made directly to two-track tape with a minimum of signal processing – yet his sound is instantly recognisable, even as fans and critics struggle to define it exactly – ‘naturalism’ and ‘warmth’ are adjectives often employed. He excelled in using scientifically precise microphone placement to capture both the individual tone of the player and the collective sound of the group, so that his recordings have a sense of space and clarity, with each instrument clearly audible in its proper place, and you’re given the illusion of being in the room, sat right in front of the band. This was a perfect match for the new, small-group sound of the time – the era abounded with distinct, individual voices on horns and piano, while new innovations in drum kits and cymbals gave drummers the opportunity to play a greater role in shaping dynamics and timbre, and improved microphone and equalisation technology allowed bassists to be heard clearly enough to start exploring subtler melodic and rhythmic possibilities than in the ‘grab it and whack it’ days of Wellman Braud. A modest man in his rare interviews, Van Gelder would be the first to avow that the primary creative genius resided with the musicians, but his ability to capture the music’s intent surely helped to shape it’s successful realisation. 
    Jazz music’s existence runs nearly exactly contemporaneously with the existence of recorded music, and has been shaped by the technology, as it has helped to shape it. To those far from the epicentres in Storyville,  52nd Street or Lenox Avenue,  jazz was  spread to its devotees via the medium of rare, highly-prized records, especially in the post-war UK, as the Musicians’ Union placed restrictions on US players touring. Many jazz musicians insist that records never capture more than a snapshot of their art – just the sound of one day in their endless musical progression – but to the fans it’s often the records that are the defining documents, and when the players are no more it is the recordings that constitute the legacy;  oral memories of legendary gigs are simply tantalising if you weren’t there. 
    In the 1930s and 1940s the cream of the sound engineers aspired to work with symphony orchestras or in movies; jazz was still widely seen as a throwaway medium unworthy of the best equipment, and magnetic tape recording didn’t become common ’til the early 1950s. Charlie Parker’s brilliant Savoy and Dial sides have an excitement and immediacy that transcends that hiss and crackle of the shellac 78 played with an iron needle; the genius is clearly audible, but the drums and bass are often not, and the sound often manages to seem shrill and muffled at the same time, so that protracted listening can become something of a chore for those who aren’t aspiring players themselves. Rudy Van Gelder set a benchmark for high fidelity in jazz recording, and a standard of care and  respect for the musician’s intent (though Mingus refused to use him, claiming ‘he ruined my bass sound’), and much of the jazz we hear today bears traces of his subtle, indirect influence.  In his later years, he was occupied in an extensive programme of re-mastering his back catalogue for digital re-release – interestingly, given the importance of the Blue Note LP as artefacts in the cult of analogue, Van Gelder himself had no sentimental attachment to vinyl as a medium, declaring “The biggest distorter is the LP itself. I’ve made thousands of LP masters. I used to make 17 a day, with two lathes going simultaneously, and I’m glad to see the LP go. As far as I’m concerned, good riddance. It was a constant battle to try to make that music sound the way it should. It was never any good. And if people don’t like what they hear in digital, they should blame the engineer who did it. Blame the mastering house. Blame the mixing engineer. That’s why some digital recordings sound terrible, and I’m not denying that they do, but don’t blame the medium”. He also continued to be involved in recording new artists, notably Christian Scott’s groundbreaking 2010 release Jenacide.  There’s several further articles to be written about the relationship between the recording and the performance,  how jazz musicians and fans alike interact with the record industry, and how technology and music aid, abet and afflict each other; let’s leave those for another time and salute the achievements of the backroom boy from Hackensack. 

Bees Mouth - July 2016

31st July

As the weather changes quicker than a resigning Tory, but low temperatures remain as stubbornly as a defiantly dishevelled Socialist leader, how’s your summer going? Where’s the sunburn and barbecue stink we were promised, to distract us from the dreadful yawning chasm offreshly unshackled insania brewing up in the lowering future? Let JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE”S MOUTH be your beacon of joy in an uncertain world, where the replacement bus service of uncertainty seems to have permanently replaced the full working timetable of fulfilment ... watch as Luke “Break Point” Rattenbury (gtr) matches Andy Murray in unrestrained emotional exuberance, and Loz “Game Set And Match” Thomas (drms) smashes them to the back of the court like a don, thrill to the torrent of good soulful swinging sounds, marvel as I plough along on bass, sigh as the ever-verdant Bee’s Team beckon mysteriously from the scented shadows, gaze in awestruck rapture as the top predator of the jazz world* swims in from distant seas, take a drink, take a break, feel mighty real..... ....Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late.
*Steve Salkind

25th July

The Russian Olympic team pull out of Rio and head for Secret Garden Party - Boris pioneers the use of limericks in diplomatic negotiations- “Sir” Phil green’s yacht grows wings and flies off to a secret base on Mars with him laughing like a maniac at the controls - Pokemons start fighting back, imprison puny humans in 2-dimensional dream world - thank god for JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH as it continues to provide a haven of good grooves, hot solos and cool meditations for you to come and seek refuge from the ever-increasing vortex of howling idiocy swirling around our weary heads, as the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty gathers momentum, Hillary has yet more e-mail trouble and wishes she’d stuck to Snapchat and Trump awaits the moment to reveal his true Decepticon nature and morph into an orange Dodge Charger .... tireless warriors of soulful swing Luke “Luke” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Loz” Thomas (drms) will be delivering the goods, I’ll be backing up on bass, the miraculously sylphs and mermaids of the Bee’s team will be poised waiting in the fragrant shadows to serve up libations of the finest liquors known to humanity... good life good life good life good life it’s a ..... good life, good life. Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

18th July

With a single beat of it’s shimmering scented wings summer lifts itself effortlessly into the lambent azure reaches, alive with the indefatigable tremulous cries of lark, swift and marten, exhaling it’s warm breath like a fire-escape vaping enthusiast to break into a million million glittering butterflies of light refracted off the glassy sea... JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH is back, clad in raiment of deepest purple, smiling the inscrutable smile of timeless aeons as the ageless skills of Luke “Mandrake” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Lord Summerisle” Thomas (drms) unite to celebrate the eternal rolling of the seasons towards this glorious balmy eye of the hurricane, aided as ever by me (sweatily) on bass and the mystic sylphs and oracles of the Bee’s team as they toil in languorous enslavement behind the well-stocked bar..... don’t get stuck in crowded meeting rooms waiting for your democratic vote to be annulled, don’t linger bitterly on the platform adding up train cancellations, tear yourself away from the 1980s re-enactment society that is contemporary parliamentary politics, desist from smashing each other over the head with real or metaphorical brickbats, avert your fascinated gaze from Mrs ‘G4s” May and her cabinet of horrors, stick up a defiant finger at the Prolonged Period Of Uncertainty and come and join us, join us..... it’s a stone groove and all you cats are welcome, what are you waiting for? Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

4th July

As Love Supreme trundles off into the golden twilight like a splendid chariot full of musical wonders, we’re left with the tidal wave of bullshit continuing to swill messily around our ankles, as the resurgent 70s-style Alf Garnetts begin to hoot together like Icelandic football fans, as various toad-faced or straw-headed politicos slither back under their rocks, as the i-Doughnut climbs jerkily to the top of it’s pole and everyone suddenly remembers that the tennis is on.... we here at JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BBE’S MOUTH are committed as ever to delivering on thegood grooves regardless of wind, rain, pollsters or market fluctuations thanks to the limitless talents of Luke “The Seer” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘The Golden One” Thomas (drms) plus me on bass, while in the mysterious shadows behind the bar the scented naiads and dryads recruited into the Bee’s team will be on hand to deliver up welcome libations of the finest international euro-beers, in defiance of the stupid zeitgeist, and who can say if some top oceanic predator* may not waft in on the night breeze with his tenor sax to nice up the area.... don’t let them grind you down, come join us, come join us... Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm - late.  
*Steve Salkind

Bees Mouth - June 2016

28th June

This should traditionally be the season for slagging off Coldplay or the England squad, moaning about the wind and rain, or panicking about what to do in the holidays - instead, the tidal wave of bullshit has descended* and now we’re blundering about screaming in fury or triumph, crashing into piles of discarded shackles and smouldering heaps of petitions as we try and take our country back off each other... it’s all a bit confusing, which is why JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE”S MOUTH is the place you wanna get to, be you Brexit, Lexit, Bremain, Tremain, Legerdemain, Cornish or just suddenly utterly terrified about the new completely unpredictable future that’s suddenly yawning right in front of your media-dazzled eyes ... come along, cos Luke ‘The Rock” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz ‘Burning Spear” will be riding high on a tide of good groove, I’ll be hammering along on bass, the imperturbable Bee’s team will be waiting in the scented shadows to answer your hesitant, stumbling request with a winsome smile and a libation of the finest liquor known to man, the nameless ones will shuffle past in the street outside, the air will be heavy with the scent of parsley, lamb and sumac from the distant exotic east via the kebab vendors on all sides, while at the dark end of the street the eternal tide will sigh and sough against the shingle, as Sophocles long ago heard on the Aegean.... we’ll be doing our own thing notwithstanding, so delete your last 25 Facebook posts, grab yer axe off the shelf, hang up your hang ups and come and join us, don’t let it get you down, don’t let them get you down. Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 
*as promised in last week’s post

20th June

t’s Solstice! How will you celebrate? Maybe by sunbathing on the beach, or trying to get somewhere from Brighton by train. Or you could relax at home and enjoy a calm, reasoned EU debate on social media. Or perhaps a quiet moment to show appreciation for the England supporters’ behaviour abroad, or how the integrity of the Russian Olympic team reflects the health of it’s political body.. or, if the relentless sarcasm just gets too much, you could just pack it all in and get down to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH... wash off your woad, tear off your mistletoe garland and put your clothes back on because we’ll be spinning our own timeless ritual of good swinging grooves with the arch-druid Luke “Equinox” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Force of Nature” Thomas (drms) plus me doing my own earthy thing on the bass, you dig, plus the diaphanous sylph-like dryads and naiads that comprise the fabulous Bee’s team will be handing out the good stuff from the well-stocked bar, various hipsters and feebs may sit in on this and that, both music and laughter will flow freely and all the horrendous mounting tide of bullsh*t will be kept at bay for another short while... The voice of the cuckoo may be stilled across the land, but still the cries of the fleet-winged swallows call from high up in the lambent reaches of air above the gathering dusk, reminding us, reminding us Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

13th June

Are you already festival-weary, unable to stomach another classic rock band playing to an audience of marketing execs roughing it in unimaginable glamping luxury? Are you jaded at the initially exciting sight of sports enthusiasts smashing each other’s stupid faces in? Are you still quivering from the horror of the Naked Bike Ride, your ganglia aflame with searing, unspeakable images that can never be un-seen? Modern life is doing you in, mate.... you need to get yourdown to JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH and give your mind a vacation, as you tune in to the universal vibrations being manifested by Luke “Ascended Master” Rattenbury (gtr) and Loz “Great Cthulhu is Risen” Thomas (drms) as they ride on the endless cosmic waves of good groove emanating from the giant pulsating AUM in the centre of the multiverse, crystallised in this dimension into funky bebop, while I muck about on bass, while the fragrant otherworldly sybills who make up the matchless Bee’s team beckon from the mysterious twilight behind the well-stocked bar, while the dark chthonic spaces beneath are alive with the murmur of intoxicated voices, and the nameless creatures of the night shuffle past in the echoing streets outside ... give yourself a holiday, free of 1st world guilt, un-compromised by involvement in some mega-corps shitty ‘sharing economy’ pyramid scheme, unsullied by endless check-in queues in obscure airports, and come and join us, join us, don’t leave it too late. Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

6th June

As the Brighton festival wafts coquettishly out of town and the Kemp Town Carnival retreats on a tide of cider and face paint, as the summer beckons with it’s heady bouquet of petrol fumes and oily barbecue aroma, as another the glorious sunset is reflected off the naked crimson backs of a thousand tatto-ed scaffolders, as the parks come alive to the sound of newly-awakened dreadlocked djembe drummers ... as the dark horror of the impending tidal wave of Brexit/Trump bullshit threatens to engulf us all, JAZZ NIGHT AT THE BEE’S MOUTH continues to lay down the good grooves courtesy of the imperturbable majesty of Luke “No Pasaran” Rattenbury (gtr) and the deep deep pocket of Loz “The Demon Haggler” Thomas (drms), plus the customary contributions from me on bass, and the languid but attentive ministrations of the fascinatingly irresistible Bee’s team as they hover in the scented shadows ready to fulfill your unspoken hopes and desires.... gather together against the coming storm, folks, and don’t forget to register to vote... Bee’s Mouth Western Road 9pm-late. 

Sussex Jazz Magazine - Festivals of Britain

As the nation descends into a period of what even the most jubilant Brexiters would have to acknowledge as extensive uncertainty, further polluted by an unwelcome residue of extremely bad feelings stirred up during the dishonest and divisive Referendum campaigns, it’s a relief to turn your weary gaze away from the news and realise that summer is still continuing, albeit in it’s usual desultory fashion, bringing with it an abundance of wonderful music as bands head out on their summer tours and the festival season gathers pace. Fans of jazz-and-related-music who also have a taste for the outdoors are especially well catered for here in the South East as Love Supreme Festival re-appears on your doorstep for the fourth time in as many years.

  Theteen years of this millennium have seen an extraordinary growth in the independent music festival sector; it’sestimated that nearly 1000festivals dedicated to music and other various worldly pleasures are due to take place across the UK this year, more than 6 times as many as a decade ago. The Association Of Independent Festivals’ 6-year report from 2014 paints a buoyantly optimistic picture. Despite economic recession and the wettest run of summers since 1912, the UK’s festival sector has thrived, and estimated ticket spend at the Association’s 44-strong membership festivals alone totals 1.1 Billion GBP since 2010. As sales in recorded music continue to decline, and ‘life experiences’ come to be more sought after than material luxuries, more and more people choose to counterbalance the increasingly solitary timbre of modern life by attending communal events, and live music is at the heart of this trend. 

  Jazz Festivals have long been popular events, but the format has always been copied from the urban Arts Festival - Swanage, Brecon or the mighty London EFG are built around a series of discrete gig promotions, using existing venues, under the umbrella of the festival organisation. Love Supreme is unique in having used the greenfield, open-air one-ticket-for-the weekend format of the rock festival, and built it around a line-up of jazz-and-related-music artists. Director Ciro Romano has pointed to the success of open-air folk festCropredy as his inspiration to seek a similar niche market for his own favourite musical genre, and the festival’s continued return after four economically difficult years for the nation must surely vindicate his decision. 

  Not everyone has been entirely happy, of course. For some, the festival line-up hasn’t been sufficiently, authentically jazz for their taste - and the ambience of a large tent on a sunny day, and the level of amplification required, hasn’t always suited every artist. Some modern jazz is quite an indoor kind of sound, and the staging requirements can be quite different from those of other, less complex but perhaps more robust musical forms. The addition of the Bandstand stage has proved enormously popular with audiences and musicians alike, providing a gateway through which the local musical community can access the festival, participate, contribute and take the opportunity to check out some of their international peers; but the expenses-only deal offered to performers in the first year was predictably, and rightly, the subject of debate. The festival has taken on board the criticism; acoustic plans have been drawn up and budgets allocated, but any event of this size and ambition will always need to be alert to possibilities of improvement. 

  Of course, what constitutes ‘real’ jazz is a subject of endless controversy, as the music itself encompasses so much in it’s legacy, from it’s disreputable roots to the popular dance bands and crooners of the thirties, and from the hip angularity of be-bop, the thunder and flash of fusion, and the esoteric artistic endeavours of the avant-garde.  Fortunately, the welcome return of the South Coast Jazz Festival, and the Brighton Alternative Jazz Festival demonstrate that jazz can survive, even in it’s most uncompromisingly free-improv incarnation, as long as there’s an audience, a dedicated promoter and their team, and the continuing availability of deserved funding from the taxpayer - let us hope that recent political developments do not jeopardise this important source of artistic nourishment.

  Love Supreme is, of course, an entirely commercially funded festival, and the pressures upon these events are enormous.  According to research carried out, improbably enough, by delivery company ParcelHero, “A mid-size festival can run on a financial knife-edge, with one quarter of ticket prices typically taken up by VAT and royalty fees to songwriters. The logistical costs are big too: water, electricity, waste management, while security must police the event. The cost of powering alone for a 10,000 capacity festival for a weekend can be 100,000 GBP - policing the Isle Of Wight festival costs nearly 1 Million GBP.”  Mid-size festivals typically need to sell 80% of tickets to cover costs, and 80% of tickets are sold on the strength of the headline acts, so it’s perhaps no surprise that even the irrepressibly optimistic Association of Independent Festivals notes ruefully that the fees charged by headline acts have risen by up to 400% between 2004 and 2014. Asjazz fans arerelatively small in number, though correspondingly great in passionate devotion, a balance must be struck between the demands of art and commerce if the event is to thrive. 

  And thrive it has - after all, it’s a simple matter of friendly, generally well-behaved people enjoying good music in beautiful surroundings. As you would hope, there’s a real appreciation of quality and high musical standards that is common to all the artists, however stylistically disparate. There’s also some more unexpected aspects - Love Supreme features more female headline artists across all it’s stages than most others, and there’s a far higher proportion of people from the BAME community, both as performers and punters, than is usual at a UK greenfield festival. This year, the Bandstand now runs on Friday as well, and also is responsible for programming theFriday Arena line-up; over the weekend, we’ll be hosting everything from the hip-hop inflections of Sumo Chief and J-Felix, the driving bop of Peter Fraize or Chris Coull’s Brownie Speaks, the epic big band explorations of Terry Pack’s Trees, the latin-flavoured delicacy of Paul Richards‘ Trio, the retro swing of Harry’s Tricks and Grimaldi Quartet, the high-octane salsa of Duende, the gnarly fusionof Vels Trio,  the afrobeat to dub-jazz of Ezra Collective and the horn-heavy Barnacles, the varied vocal delights of the Kendon/Ryall, Maira Chiara and Leeming/Dankworth bands, and the concluding fury of Simon Spillet - not to mention my own efforts with the wonderful musicians who have consented to join me in the Eddie Myer 5tet. It’s a snapshot of how varied the output of today’s jazz-loving musicians can be, and how much talent resides in our area. In an age increasingly characterised by hostility and division, let’s reach out across our different stylistic affiliations and discover what unites us! All we need now is the weather to hold.

Love Supreme

Association of Independent Festivals Six Year Report (2014)

ParcelHero - The Real Cost of Delivering Festivals

Guardian Culture - The Future of Festivals