Getting to Grips with “Aslant”

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Photo : Molly E. Boiling

I’ve written before on this blog about Aslant, the small but beautifully formed collection of my poems and Molly Boiling’s photographs published by Shoestring Press earlier in the year, but the arrival of an interesting, quite detailed review by Thomas Ovans in the online magazine London Grip gives me the opportunity to do so again.

This is how it begins …

As I begin to write this review it strikes me that one’s reading of a book can initially be influenced by what one had previously been reading. I came to this collection having just enjoyed another book that  robustly and self-confidently expressed irreverent and sceptical attitudes that I broadly agreed with. Aslant, by contrast, is a much more provisional, reflective and tender work and represented a refreshing change of tone that I hadn’t known I was more than ready for.

Aslant places John Harvey’s poems alongside evocative photographs by Molly Boiling which provide sharp-edged images of steps, shadows, girders and corners of high buildings. These pictures often suggest entrances and exits or incidental glimpses alongside the telling of a story. Hence they combine well with Harvey’s poems which usually have a strong narrative and reminiscent thread.

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Photo : Molly E. Boiling

“A sense of mortality seems to hover over much of this collection,” Ovans writes; “a recurring sense of wistful consolation after loss.”

Of the pieces in the central section which take jazz and jazz musicians as their subject – Lester Young, Art Pepper, Thelonious Monk – Ovans writes, “This is wonderfully evocative writing which, I would maintain, conveys something authentic even to a reader who is not a jazz aficionado.”

And he concludes his review thus …

… this is no ordinary book: the well-chosen images and the way they complement some consistently satisfying high-quality poems make it, in my view, well worth a tenner of anybody’s money.

You can read Thomas Ovan’s review in full here …

And if you don’t already have a copy and feel like following this advice and splashing out said tenner, Aslant can be ordered directly from contacts@centralbooks.com.    or  from any bookstore – including those worthy souls at Nottingham’s Five Leaves Bookshop – bookshop@fiveleaves.co.uk. You can even buy it on Amazon.

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Photo : Molly E. Boiling
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Six Months of Good Stuff …

Here’s a list, for those who like lists, of the movies, music, books and exhibitions that have given me the most pleasure in the first half of the year; given me pleasure and, more often than not, stopped me in my tracks.

BOOKS
An American Marriage : Tayari Jones
Long Bright River : Liz Moore (proof copy – pub Jan 2020)

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FILMS
Hale County This Morning This Evening : RaMell Ross
Foxtrot : Samuel Maoz
Dirty God : Sacha Polak [mainly for the extraordinary performance by Vicky Knight]

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MUSIC
Blues & Roots Ensemble w. Alice Zawadzki : Pizza Express Jazz Club
Viktoria Mullova : unaccompanied Bach on violin : Sage, Gateshead

Two CDs by writer Willy Vlautin’s band, The Delines
Colfax (2014)
The Imperial (2019)

Delines

ART
Harold Gilman – Beyond Camden Town : Djanogly Gallery, Nottm.
Albert Irvin & Abstract Expressionism : GWA, Bristol
George Shaw – A Corner of a Foreign Field : Holbourne Gallery, Bath
Joan Mitchell : Fondation Louis Vuitton, Paris

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George Shaw
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Joan Mitchell

PHOTOGRAPHY
Don McCullin : Tate Britain
Dave Heath – Dialogues with Solitude : Photographers’ Gallery
Chris Killip – The Last Ships : Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle
Luigi Ghirri – Cartes et Territoires : Jeu de Paume, Paris

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Dave Heath

 

 

 

American Writers: George Pelecanos / Willy Vlautin

When I first started reading George Pelecanos – the Nick Stefanos Mysteries – and later when we met and I had the opportunity to interview him, it was clear that his chosen form, the crime novel, was going to be, for him, much more than an entertainment – though his books are certainly that. As became even more evident with some of the later, more substantial titles – Right as Rain, say, Hard Revolution or The Night Gardener – Pelecanos sees himself very much in the role of social chronicler, as well as – sounds a little pretentious, but I can’t help it – a chronicler of the lives of men. Men and women inseparable from the society into which they are born and in which they live. Cause and effect.

Going back over Pelecanos’ work I’m reminded of a statement by the Australian writer, Peter Temple. ” … those are the issues [questions of morality, of behaviour and of simple human decency] you should write about (and) if you are a crime writer you have more licence to write about them than anybody else.”

From the time Pelecanos became involved, as writer and producer, in the television series, The Wire, and later, Treme and The Deuce, novels have been relatively few and far between. So news of The Man Who Came Uptown was greeted with pleasurable anticipation.

Uptown

It is, in some respects, a simple morality tale. Will Michael, on release from prison, go back to the life that put him there, responding to the pressures of those around him, or have the courage and strength of will to step aside and make an honest life of his own? That he is even considering the latter is in no small part due to the prison librarian, who has successfully introduced him to books and reading and, through them, an alternative set of choices.

One book that affects Michael strongly is Northline by Willy Vlautin, which tells the story of a young woman who gradually finds the strength to have hope and trust in the possibility of a new life, despite years of serious abuse. A role model, for Michael, of sorts. If she can do it, if she can even try …

Pelecanos’ opinion of the novel is clear from the rear jacket of the Faber edition of the book …

Northline shines with naked honesty and unsentimental humanity. The character of Allison Johnson, and the wounded-but-still-walking people she encounters on her journey, will stay with me for a long while. Vlautin has written the American novel that I’ve been hoping to find.

Northline

Vlautin, author of five novels so far, is also a song writer and musician, initially with the band Richmond Fontaine and, more recently, The Delines, for whom he plays guitar and sings as well as writing most of their material. I was aware of Richmond Fontaine, liking some of their songs without going overboard [the exception being the marvellous Inventory from the 2011 album, The High Country] but The Delines are, as they say – or used to – something else. A friend – actually, my agent – the two are far from inseparable – gave me a copy of their 2014 album, Colfax, for a recent birthday and it’s scarcely been off the stereo since.

Not surprisingly, the songs are stories; moments, often, taken from the centre of broken down lives; their protagonists drawn from an itinerant American underclass . No surprise that amongst his favourite writers Vlautin cites John Steinbeck and Raymond Carver.

But what makes the songs on Colfax and the more recent  The Imperial really work is the voice of singer Amy Boone, sometimes barely rising above the level of everyday speech, which conveys the experience and pain of the characters she inhabits with weary fidelity. Aware of this, when Boone had a serious accident after making Colfax, Vlautin waited several years until she had recovered and could sing again before making another record.

 

Delines

 

Bob Cornwell’s Shuffle

It gives me great pleasure to hand this post over to the illustrious Bob Cornwell – film buff, crime fiction expert and music aficionado – to discus the music that popped up recently via his iPod shuffle. [Just as it is with books, other people’s music libraries are often far more  diverse and interesting than one’s own.]

Ysabel’s Table Dance (Charles Mingus)
Aftermath (Kevin Eubanks)
Third Rate Romance (Amazing Rhythm Aces)
Here Comes the Honeyman (Norma Winstone with the NDR Bigband under Mike Gibbs)
This Girl’s in Love with You (Dionne Warwick)
Donna Lee (Charlie Parker)
Rustat’s Gravesong (Michael Garrick Orchestra)
I Want You (Jewels and Binoculars)
Downtown Train (Tom Waits)
O Deserto (Mariza)
Dance You Monster to My Soft Song (Maria Schneider Orchestra)
Moon Mist (Duke Ellington and his Famous Orchestra)

No day that starts with this passionate, mercurial music from Tijuana Moods (1957), my favourite Mingus album and one of only three (all for Mingus)) that feature the wistfully lyrical trumpet of Clarence Shaw, here in teasing fragments.

The ‘day’ job for some years for under-rated guitarist Kevin Eubanks, was with the house band on Jay Leno’s Tonight US TV show in the 1990s. This is from Turning Point, his first album (1992) for Blue Note, bristling with excellent Eubanks originals and supported, amongst others by Britain’s own Dave Holland and Mark Mondesir.

The 1970s generally get a bad rap, for its politics of course but also for its music. Not in my book, notable as the period was for great British big bands. Think Neil Ardley’s New Jazz Orchestra, Chris McGregor’s anarchic but always exhilarating Brotherhood of Breath, the Mikes Westbrook, Gibbs and Garrick, and then on into the 80s with the various Graham Collier aggregations. Here Comes the Honeyman is later Gibbs. from his wonderful 2011 album, Here’s A Song for You, featuring Norma Winstone with the NDR Bigband (Mark Mondesir guesting on drums). This includes some very individual interpretations of material from Nick Drake, Sting and Joni Mitchell as well as a few classics from Fats Waller, Duke and Billy Strayhorn. And in the closing moments of this track, can I hear a brief homage to the sinuous horns and woodwind that accompany Miles on the fragmentary (1m 18sec) version of this tune on Porgy and Bess (1958), arranged by Gil Evans.

Rustat’s Gravesong meanwhile originates from Michel Garrick in 1968, the innovative Jazz Praises suite (Garrick on the organ of St.Paul’s Cathedral for instance). This version comes from an undated but much later (early 200s?) now with a young band that included two of his sons.

No Dusty (or Lester) this time round. Instead the Apple logarithm glides mysteriously from a sublime Dionne Warwick in 1969 to an intense Charlie Parker in 1947 with an ‘all-star’ group that includes Miles Davis, Bud Powell and Max Roach, in Parker’s first ‘illicit’ session for Savoy (he was contracted to Dial at the time).

A Bob Dylan inspired jazz album? Three in fact, all from woodwind specialist Michael Moore (no relation) and his band called Jewels and Binoculars, completed by bassist Linsdey Horner and percussionist Michael Vatcher. Ths jaunty version of I Want You comes from Floater, the second album (2003), one of many jewels on this record.

Fado singer Mariza’s O Deserto (The Desert) comes from her international breakthrough album Fado Curvo, the latter obligingly translated on the CD as “inclined forward”, as she strove to incorporate new influences both poetically and musically. Here’s a nod to jazz, her glorious voice accompanied here on Portuguese guitar by Mario Pacheco, a giant of that instrument and, on trumpet Quiné (a role taken by Guy Barker on a later appearance in London’s Festival Hall).

The great big band of our day, in my opinion, is that of Maria Schneider. Here’s an altogether more extrovert version of a track from 2014 that first showed up on Evanescence (1994) her first album, Gil Evans a clear influence – and perhaps too, Paul Klee? NB If you can get down to Ronnies in early July when Schneider appears at the club as guest conductor, not to mention composer-in-residence, with the Ronnie Scott Jazz Orchestra.

Finally, another perennial, Duke Ellington. Most of the seminal collection Never No Lament (the Blanton/Webster-Band, 1940-1942) has ended up on my iPod. This is a lesser known item, led by Ray Nance on violin, from January 1942 that you’d swear came from the pen of Billy Strayhorn. But no, it’s a gentle original from a young Mercer Ellington, that let’s you down gently after the fire of Maria Schneider. And reminds you that it’s about that time – coffee time.

Don Shirley at the Piano

No call to bring down further scorn on the Academy’s choice of Green Book as Best Film; Spike Lee’s already handled that in his own, well, spiky way. And the truth is there’s not too much wrong with Green Book as pleasurable movies go – nice performances and along the way an interesting  insight into what passed for middlebrow entertainment in the early 1960s, in this case the rather flashy neo-classical piano style of Don Shirley. As the jazz pianist Ethan Iverson points out in an article in the current issue of the New Yorker, Shirley was “one among dozens of pianists who were popular at mid-century, a moment when the piano was at its zenith in American life.” In America it would have included Vladimir Horowitz and Arthur Rubinstein on the more traditionally classical side of things and light music specialists such as Carmen Cavallaro, whose best-selling recording was his version of Chopin’s Polonaise, Op. 53., and who, of course, paved the way for Liberace, all simpering smiles and glittering arpeggios.

In England there was the duo, Rawicz and Landauer, dispensing popular versions of the classics to radio audiences through the middle years of the century, and Alberto Semprini, whose radio programme, Semprini Serenade, introduced with the words, “Old ones, new ones, loved ones, neglected ones”, began as a Sunday afternoon feature on the BBC Light Programme in 1957 and continued for another twenty-five years.

Iverson is interesting discussing Don Shirley’s singular piano style, which leaned towards jazz and popular music, but interpreted through the prism of his classical music training. He quotes the saxophonist Branford Marsalis as saying, “Don Shirley’s music is a joy to listen to. It’s not jazz, and his approach is clearly influenced through classical training. Because he is not a jazz soloist, he has to create momentum through color and melodic exploration.”

It could well have been that, instead of carving out a career as a popular attraction, Shirley could have played in more conventional classical surroundings, but it seems that his colour was against him. As the jazz bassist Ron Carter, whose first choice would have been to have played the symphonic repertoire, was told by no less than Leopold Stokowski, the classical world was “not ready for a colored man to be in their orchestra.” In the UK, the Trinidadian pianist Winifred Atwell, though classically trained, found herself held back by similar prejudices, which resulted in her – not, I imagine, totally unhappily – performing a succession of ragtime compositions that topped the charts and propelled her to huge popularity, especially in Australia, where she settled in the 1970s, becoming an Australian citizen two years before her death.

 

Bill Moody, 1941 – 2018

The following is an edited version of an essay by Aage Hedley Petersen, which was published in Denmark in Jazz Special, number 164,  February-April, 2019. Any errors and infelicities in the translation are mine and mine alone!

When I was putting together the article I wrote about jazz in the English writer John Harvey’s books featuring Detective Inspector Charlie Resnick as the main character, Harvey drew my attention to American writer and jazz drummer Bill Moody (27th September 1941 – 14th January 2018). It turned out that Harvey’s poem about Chet Baker was reprinted not only in Michael Connelly’s novel The Drop, but also in Bill Moody’s Looking for Chet Baker.

Moody lived on the American West Coast – principally Las Vegas – for most of his life, working as a teacher and reviewer, as well as enjoying a musical career which included playing with such notable figures as Earl Hines, Lou Rawls, Maynard Ferguson and the singer Jon Hendricks. He recorded with both Hendricks and Ferguson when they visited Czechoslovakia, where Moody stayed for three years in the late sixties. During his stay in Prague he also wrote a non-fiction book about the American jazz emigrants who “fled” to Europe in the second part of the twentieth century: Exiles : American Musicians Abroad, mostly based on interviews with musicians like Art Farmer and Johnny Griffin and others. Among the emigrants who stayed in Denmark, however, only Stan Getz gets his own chapter – not Dexter Gordon or Ben Webster; and the remarkable pianist, Duke Jordan, is not even mentioned!

Exiles

Solo Hand, the first novel in the series (1994) introduces the jazz pianist Evan Horne as the main character. Horne has injured his right hand in a traffic accident, which has necessitated a long break in his playing career. Jazz here does not particularly influence the action, but nevertheless the one appreciates the musical descriptions and anecdotes, for example: “As the flamboyant drummer Buddy Rich was being wheeled into the surgery, the doctor asked him if there was anything he was allergic to, he answered “Country Music!”

With the second novel, Death of a Tenor Man (1995) Moody found the perfect jazz mystery! The death of tenor saxophonist, Wardell Gray. In 1955 Gray was hired by Benny Carter to play with his big band at the opening of the Moulin Rouge – the first racially integrated casino in Las Vegas. The second evening he did not turn up, and the next day his body was found dumped on a field outside the city. The murder was never solved – a cold case which Horne investigates and, in doing so, stirs up a hornets’ nest, but without a definite solution to the murder being found. Another author, James Ellroy, suggests in his novel The Cold Six Thousand that Gray had a sexual relationship with a white woman who was connected with the mafia, and this led to his being beaten to death. Either way, you have the feeling that the police’s motivation to solve the murder of a “black drug-addict” was small or non existant!

Tenor

The third volume, The Sound of the Trumpet, revolves around Clifford Brown. In collectors’ circles some apparently authentic tapes of Brown’s playing emerge, and Evan Horne is consulted to vouch for their authenticity. As the story progresses, we follow Moody’s interpretation of Clifford Brown’s last days in June, 1956, when, together with the pianist Richie Powell – Bud Powell’s brother – and Richie’s wife Nancy, he was on his way to Chicago and the next gig by Max Roach-Clifford Brown quintet. As you may know, it goes awfully wrong. With Nancy at the wheel, she loses control of the car, which goes off the road and resolts in all three being killed.

Trumpet

The fourth volume, Bird Lives, is not especially about Charlie Parker, despite the title; he is only a symbol on a “real” jazz musician, in contrast to those smooth-jazz practitioners who are murdered by a serial-killer. Evan Horne is involved by the FBI to interpret those clues of jazzy nature the killer has left on the crime scene – among others a white feather and some haiku-poems, for instance: “ On Coltrane’s Soultrane / Jazz is always great Good Bait/ Tadd’s Long Gone – Delight”.

Volume five, Looking for Chet Baker (2002) is probably Moody’s most successful novel. The mystery about Chet Baker’s death after falling from a window in hotel “Prins Hendrik” in Amsterdam is an eternal source of myths and conspiracy theories – was he pushed, did he jump, or did he simly fall?

Baker

The sixth volume, Shades of Blue (2008) is a “real” jazz novel, in which the crime intrigues are peripheral, as is the case in volume seven, Fade to Blue (2011), the last novel in the series, in which Horne is involved in a movie-project to teach one of the great Hollywood stars “playing” fake-piano to a soundtrack recorded by Horne himself. The movie turns out to be a crime story inspired by Horne’s experiences in Bird Lives, which was the real reason why he was hired in the first place!

As a crime writer Moody is not exceptional – to me he is not in the same league as, for example, Michael Connelly and John Harvey. But contrary to those two, whose main characters are detectives with a certain interest in jazz, Moody was a jazz personality who wrote jazz novels with a crime motive, and such writers are very rare! I would have liked to write about my great favorite – Michael Connelly – who even a couple of years ago was the co-writer of the documentary Sound of Redemption about alto saxophonist Frank Morgan. But there is too little jazz substance in the novels, and therefore they are not relevant for the readers of this magazine. To the contrary, Moody’s novels offer a great pleasure for jazz nerds, who don’t mind compromising on other aspects of the work.

Finally, to say that the excellent and stylish cover illustrations on Death of a Tenor Man, The Sound of the Trumpet and Bird Lives are by John Howard.

 

Charlie Resnick & Billie Holiday

As the closing credits start to roll at the end of Hale County This Morning This Evening, RaMell Ross’s brilliant documentary about black lives in rural Alabama, there’s a sudden shift of tone on the soundtrack, eight bars of bright, clear trumpet leading into the unmistakeable voice of Billie Holiday singing – what else? – Stars Fell on Alabama.

It’s the version Billie recorded in January, 1957 for Norman Granz and released on the Verve label. Harry ‘Sweets’ Edison is the trumpet player, with Ben Webster on tenor, Jimmy Rowles at the piano, Barney Kessel guitar, Red Mitchell bass and Alvin Stoller drums. I know it from a ten disc set which brings together the studio sessions recorded for Verve between 1952 and 1959, along with various live sessions from Carnegie Hall, the Newport Jazz Festival and several early concerts with Granz’s Jazz at the Philharmonic.

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I can’t swear when I bought my copy, but I know full well when Charlie Resnick bought his, Christmas 1993. It says so in the sixth novel of the series, Cold Light, which was published in 1994.

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Here’s the beginning of chapter 8 …

For Christmas, Resnick had bought himself The Complete Billie Holiday on Verve, a new edition of Dizzy Gillespie’s autobiography and The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, LP and Cassette. What he still had to acquire was a CD player.

But there he’d been, not so many days before, sauntering down from Canning Circus into town, sunshine, one of those clear blue winter skies, and glancing into the window of Arcade Records he had seen it. Amongst the Eric Clapton and the Elton John, a black box with the faintest picture of Billie on its front; ten CDs and a two-hundred-and-twenty-page booklet, seven hundred minutes of music, a numbered, limited edition, only sixteen thousand pressed worldwide.

Worldwide, Resnick had thought; only sixteen thousand worldwide. That didn’t seem an awful lot of copies. And here was one, staring up at him, and a bargain offer to boot. He had his cheque book, but not his cheque card. “It’s okay,” the owner had said, “I think we can trust you.” And knocked another five pounds off the price.

Resnick had spent much of the morning, between readying the duck for the oven, peeling the potatoes, cleaning round the bath, looking at it. Holding it in his hand. Billie Holiday on Verve. There is a photograph of her in the booklet, New York City, 1956; a woman early to middle-age, no glamour, one hand on her hip, none too patiently waiting, a working woman, c’mon now, let’s get this done. He closes his eyes and imagines her sniggering – Cheek to Cheek with Ben Webster, wasn’t that fifty-six? Do Nothing ‘Till You  Hear From Me. We’ll Be Together Again. The number stamped on the back of Resnick’s set is 10961.

So much easier to look again and again at the booklet, slide those discs from their brown card covers, admire the reproductions of album sleeves in their special envelope, easier to do all this than take the few steps to the mantlepiece and the card that waits in its envelope, unopened. A post mark, smudged, that might say Devon, the unmistakable spikiness of his ex-wife’s hand.

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Music of the Year, 2018

LIVE …

I’ve seen even less live music this past year than previously, something I hope to put right in 2019. But of those performances I have been fortunate enough to see, these are the most memorable.

Ethan’s Last Rent Party at Kings Place. Ethan Iverson, aided and abetted by fellow-pianists Alexander Hawkins and Adam Fairhall, exploring the links between British music in the first decades of the twentieth century and Black American music, syncopation and jazz.

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Kairos 4tet at Rich Mix. Saxophonist Adam Waldman, leading a quartet through his own compositions, with Emilia Martensson and Alice Zawadski on vocals.

Amy Rigby at The Betsy Trotwood. A joyous and generous solo performance of Amy’s songs, with readings from her prose and poetry to match. Great evening!

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Shostakovich 6th Symphony – LPO / Vladimir Jurowski at the Royal Festival Hall.

Shostakovich 1st Violin Concerto. Nicola Benedetti with the LSO /Gianandrea Noseda at the Barbican.

Shostakovich String Quartet No. 8 & Beethoven String Quartet No. 7. Emerson String Quartet at Milton Court.

And, pre-recorded, but very much a living experience, the Forty Part Motet (Spem in Alium – Tallis) arranged by Janet Cardiff at the Richmond Chapel, Penzance.

RECORDED …

Just as Shostakovich tends to dominate the live music selection, so Thelonious Monk [no surprise!] dominates my selection of music on CD. Monk features a live session recorded in Copenhagen in March, 1963 and previously thought lost, and, similarly, Monk: The Lost Recordings, captures a 1967 concert in Rotterdam. Wadada Leo Smith’s Solo: Reflections & Meditations on Monk mixes his solo interpretations on trumpet of five Monk compositions with three of his own.

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Monk

Smith

Tracey Thorn’s Record contains a number of beautifully written and crafted songs ,exploring the life of a  woman not too far distant from, one imagines, herself. And the 14th Volume of the Bob Dylan Bootleg Series, More Blood, More Tracks, presents the original, stripped down versions of the songs from one of his best albums, Blood on the Tracks and encourages you to listen to them afresh.

RecordThe Bootleg Series Vol. 14_ More Blood, More Tracks

 

 

Ethan Iverson’s Rent Party

 

 

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Ethan Iverson, flanked by Adam Fairhall (on his right) and Alexander Hawkins

The third part of Ethan Iverson’s Kings Place residency during this year’s London Jazz Festival went under the name of Ethan’s Last Rent Party, but rather than it being a bring-a-bottle, pay-what-you-can-at-the-door event being put on in order to assuage the venue’s doubtless huge rates bill, it turned out to be – with Iverson joined on stage by British pianists, Adam Fairhall and Alexander Hawkins – an exhilarating, sometimes thrilling, examination of the links between British music in the first decades of the last century and jazz, between the likes of Percy Grainger of English Country Garden fame and syncopation. And one of the most musically satisfying and surprising, enjoyable, educative and entertaining musical events I’ve attended.

Iverson – he late of The Bad Plus – clearly knows, as anyone familiar with his blog, Do The M@th, will know, a lot about a lot of things, things musical in particular; one of his more obsessive areas of interest [about as obsessive as his interest in crime fiction] seeming to be British music & composition. Who knew, for instance [well, obviously, Iverson did] that when Will Marion Cooke’s African-American revue, In Dahomey, played London’s Shaftesbury Theatre on the 16th May, 1903, Percy Grainger was in the audience and was inspired to write a piano piece of the same name in a syncopated, ‘raggy’ style. Nor that in 1923 Constant Lambert went to the London Pavilion to see Dover Street to Dixie, featuring the orchestra of black musicians led by Will Vodery. An experience, Iverson says, which led Lambert towards the use of syncopation in his work, including the 1929 Piano Sonata.

The link, Iverson says, between Cook, Vodery, Grainger and Lambert is the Duke, Duke Ellington. But, instead of me further pillaging his blog, why don’t I step aside in favour of Iverson’s own words?

Duke Ellington is a linking theme. Will Marion Cook and Will Vodery were two of Ellington’s teachers and mentors. Both Grainger and Lambert knew and respected Ellington. There’s a picture of Grainger with Ellington when Grainger invited Ellington to he NYU classroom in 1932. Lambert (who had a major career as a feisty critic) was one of Ellington’s most vocal supporter in the 1930s, writing in the famously caustic Music Ho! that Ellington ” … has crystallised the popular music of our time and set up a standard by which we may judge not only other jazz composers but also those highbrow composers, whether American or European, who indulge in what is roughly known as ‘symphonic jazz'”

So, what actually happened? Iverson introduced the subject before chatting a while with Fairhall and Hawkins. Then he played Grainger’s In Dahomey and the first movement of Lambert’s Piano Sonata; Hawkins [stretching further back in time] played William Byrd’s ‘First Pavan & Galliard’, with a nod towards the recording by Glenn Gould; Fairhall, to my delight, played Winifred Atwell and Billy Mayerl; they each played a composition by Ray Noble, Iverson doing the honours with ‘Cherokee; and, finally, all three sat at the same piano to take Grainger’s ‘Country Gardens’ to places I doubt it’s composer would or could have envisaged.

Brilliant!

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Adam Fairhall in action

 

 

Not so Private Passions …

Four years ago, not so long after the final Resnick novel, Darkness, Darkness, was published, I was invited to be a guest on the BBC Radio 3 programme, Private Passions – a sort of (mainly) classical version of Desert Island Discs, only, since this was to be broadcast alongside the London Jazz Festival, there was to be a somewhat higher jazz content than is often the case.

I was delighted to be asked [understatement!] and thoroughly enjoyed the process, from making the choice of music to be featured to the interview itself, which was conducted with little or no preamble or rehearsal, the presenter, Michael Berkeley, making me feel immediately at my ease. The pair of us sat in a relatively small studio space, listening together to the pieces as they were played on air, which meant that one’s immediate response was, well, immediate.

I wanted to choose music that meant something in particular to me, while being conscious of delivering a broad ranging selection I thought people might respond to, and which might include some pieces with which listeners might be less than familiar with – Jocelyn Pook’s Tango with Corrugated Iron, for instance, or James P. Johnson’s Victory March.

Here’s the full list …

Mean to Me  [Fred E. Ahlert and Roy Turk]
Billie Holiday with Teddy Wilson & His Orchestra inc. Lester Young (tenor sax)

Hebrides Overture (Fingal’s Cave) [Mendelssohn]
Maxim Dmitrievich Shostakovich  & Moscow Radio Symphony Orchestra

Victory Stride [James P. Johnson]
Marin Alsop & The Concordia Orchestra

Shipbuilding [Elvis Costello]
Elvis Costello with Chet Baker (trumpet)

Cello Concerto No. 2 [Shostakovich]
Sol Gabetta with Marc Albrecht & Munich Philharmonic Orchestra

Tango with Corrugated Iron [Jocelyn Pook]
Electra Strings & Jocelyn Pook

Rhythm-a-ning [Thelonious Monk]
Thelonious Monk Trio

And, somewhere in there, I was asked to read my poem about Chet Baker, which, of course, I was more than happy to do.

The programme is now available to listen to for 29 days …