Last Saturday night at 10.15 I did something I haven't done for a very long time (if ever) on a Saturday night. I listened to the radio - Radio 3 no less.
It was live from the Proms, Stan Tracey and his orchestra playing his 1987 (?) masterpiece Genesis.
I love this piece of music. I first heard it in Durham Cathedral round about 1989. I bought the record (vinyl) a listened to it quite a bit. I haven't heard it for a long time. My record player broke years ago and I haven't bothered to replace it, mistakenly believing that new audio technology is better.
The Radio 3 broadcast gave me the real live thrill. The soloists were outstanding and the ensemble playing of the orchestra (which presumably had just been assembled for this occasion) was incredibly tight.
I had searched the TV listings and was initially annoyed that this concert was not televised as some of the Proms concerts are, but in the event I was glad that I listened on radio. The sound quality was superb and there were no visual distractions. I just concentrated on the music and was transported to jazz heaven.
Monday 20 July 2009
Thursday 16 July 2009
Under a picture of the Pope
Strange venue – a Roman Catholic parish centre, and I was standing under a picture of the Pope. Unusual audience – the local MS society’s monthly social gathering. I wasn’t sure what they’d make of us.
Occasionally they have entertainment of some kind or other, but this was the first time they’d had a jazz quartet playing bebop and modern.
We had been warned that they usually talked through ‘the acts’. But this time they didn’t. They listened. They liked it and they told us so.
It confirmed my belief that if you play good tunes with passion and honesty people will respond well, even if they don’t usually listen to that type of music.
Occasionally they have entertainment of some kind or other, but this was the first time they’d had a jazz quartet playing bebop and modern.
We had been warned that they usually talked through ‘the acts’. But this time they didn’t. They listened. They liked it and they told us so.
It confirmed my belief that if you play good tunes with passion and honesty people will respond well, even if they don’t usually listen to that type of music.
Monday 13 July 2009
Big Ben
Many aspiring jazz musicians in Tyneside and beyond have been inspired by the Jazz for Everyone workshops at the Sage Gateshead run by pianist Ben Gilbert (with assistance from others). In August he's moving to London.
The workshop on Saturday 11 July was his last, and what an occasion it was! Ben's friend and colleague, Claude Werner, a superb saxophonist, had written a tribute to him: a composition for jazz orchestra entitled 'Big Ben'. (Ben is a slight unassuming guy, probably unaware of his big influence.)
The challenge Claude had set himself and the musicians was to rehearse a brand new composition in just three hours (only 2.5 hours once everyone had got seated) and then give a public performance.
The first unknown factor was: who would turn up to play? Well, the word had got round and many of those who had been inspired by Ben wanted to take part. I've never seen a room at the Sage so full - 30-35 musicians (every time I counted I got a different number), all saxes, trumpets, trombone, mandolin, violin, guitars, basses, keyboards, drums and percussion, and vocalists.
The next unknown was: could we do it? Claude had written a excellent piece, and was trusting that the musicians that he and Ben had sometimes tutored would rise to the occasion.
The performance, at 6pm in Hall Two, wasn't note perfect, but it was inspired and inspiring - much better than many would have expected.
And in the jam session that followed Ben and Claude, joined by David Carnegie on drums and Mick Shoulder on bass, played sensational improvisations over well known standards. And they were joined by some of the people they had tutored who were effectively continuing their personal tributes to Ben Gilbert and Jazz for Everyone.
This was an emotional musical occasion unlikely to be repeated.
The workshop on Saturday 11 July was his last, and what an occasion it was! Ben's friend and colleague, Claude Werner, a superb saxophonist, had written a tribute to him: a composition for jazz orchestra entitled 'Big Ben'. (Ben is a slight unassuming guy, probably unaware of his big influence.)
The challenge Claude had set himself and the musicians was to rehearse a brand new composition in just three hours (only 2.5 hours once everyone had got seated) and then give a public performance.
The first unknown factor was: who would turn up to play? Well, the word had got round and many of those who had been inspired by Ben wanted to take part. I've never seen a room at the Sage so full - 30-35 musicians (every time I counted I got a different number), all saxes, trumpets, trombone, mandolin, violin, guitars, basses, keyboards, drums and percussion, and vocalists.
The next unknown was: could we do it? Claude had written a excellent piece, and was trusting that the musicians that he and Ben had sometimes tutored would rise to the occasion.
The performance, at 6pm in Hall Two, wasn't note perfect, but it was inspired and inspiring - much better than many would have expected.
And in the jam session that followed Ben and Claude, joined by David Carnegie on drums and Mick Shoulder on bass, played sensational improvisations over well known standards. And they were joined by some of the people they had tutored who were effectively continuing their personal tributes to Ben Gilbert and Jazz for Everyone.
This was an emotional musical occasion unlikely to be repeated.
Thursday 9 July 2009
those words again
Walking out of the Sage Gateshead yesterday with Beatrice slung over my shoulder yet another friendly stranger made that oh so familiar comment: "That's a big guitar".
Beatrice, or Be as I usually call her, is my 130-year-old double bass. She's German and looks her age, but wow can she sing, swing and groove.
I've heard the same comment hundreds, maybe thousands, of times - and the alternative "how do you get that under your chin". I smile and act like it's the first time anyone's ever said that to me. It's nice to be greeted by strangers.
Beatrice, or Be as I usually call her, is my 130-year-old double bass. She's German and looks her age, but wow can she sing, swing and groove.
I've heard the same comment hundreds, maybe thousands, of times - and the alternative "how do you get that under your chin". I smile and act like it's the first time anyone's ever said that to me. It's nice to be greeted by strangers.
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