On the Beat

Heading west for the wassailling, we drove past the Hoover Building just after sunrise. After the light-industrial mess of the North Circular and the Western Avenue - an unattractive jumble of buildings and hoardings together with a modern sprouting of budget hotels - seeing the art deco grandeur of the Hoover Building was spirit-raising: a beautiful sight.

So I went back early on Monday morning: yet another sunrise...

Another walk, from Limehouse to the Tower. To the accompaniment of "Limehouse Blues", of course.

( Yes, more photos... )

I wandered around the City one night. It sparkled.

( night-time pictures... )

When I was at school, the tuck-shop - a student-run, wholly commercial operation - had currant buns from Grodzinski. They were unlike other currant buns (of which I remain fond).

I saw that Grodzinski (and Daughters) still exists. So I walked there, and took some photos on the way. They didn't have the same currant buns - though what they did have were very good.

( ...more photos... )

I went to listen to Nick Clegg yesterday. He was answering questions from London members of the Liberal Democrats and, having opportunity to hear the deputy Prime Minister speak, I wanted to hear what he had to say.

I thought the discussion might have been dominated by questions of the recent disturbances in England and Wales, but it wasn’t – there were a couple of questions, but most questions covered other topics. He was late because he’d been in private meetings in Bermondsey (Simon Hughes’ constituency) about the riots – I had expected the meeting to have been cancelled since he must have been pretty busy.

There wasn’t really any debate: people asked Clegg a question, he answered it and moved on; so there wasn’t really any opportunity to challenge what he said. He knew many in the audience – longstanding, hardcore members (rather than fly-by-nights like me…); indeed, I sat in close proximity to Lembit Opik.

Clegg started off by talking briefly about his first year in office – “not wholly comfortable” – and emphasising aspects of the LibDem manifesto that the party has been able to enact as a result of being the junior member of the coalition – he mentioned increasing tax allowances to remove the low paid from taxation, reinstating the link between the state pension and earning, and protecting childcare for disadvantaged families. (It is surprisingly hard to find a list of the LibDems’ accomplishments on their website – I tried! – but this website covers most bases.)

He raised the issue of the economy; he blamed our current predicament not just on the previous Labour administration, but nearly thirty years of unsustainable development since the Big Bang, with “the illusion of prosperity… growth… [and] wealth” arising from “debt and mortgages… unsustainable property prices… [particularly in London] … borrowing and spending we couldn’t afford”. The necessary reforms to the economy – the pain we are suffering at the moment – are for the long term benefit (but, as Clegg noted, elections are a short term phenomenon).

Most of the questions focussed on the nature of the coalition; the relationship with the media; spending cuts; and the economy. Clegg was unable to answer or took offline specific questions on alcoholism (following a BBC investigation), the impact of the cuts on the disabled, specific actions needed in Tottenham and so on.

On the coalition, Clegg was at pains to emphasise that the LibDems were very different from the Conservative party – by its nature conservative, whilst LibDems wanted change. He said that the party hadn’t entered coalition lightly – but that decisions had been needed quickly after the last general election to defend the UK’s standing with the financial markets. Clegg said he believed that the LibDems had made mistakes in the first year politically; but he also said that the LibDems had to show that they could govern: at the last general election, many voters had supported the LibDems but felt they had lacked credibility.

He believed the LibDems were fighting on several fronts: the media tried to ignore the party, being happier with left-right arguments which Labour and the Tories fall into. He saw the LibDems as working on a different axis – neither left nor right: the top down patronage of Labour that leads to centralisation and state control, and the natural pessimism and resistance to change of the Conservatives. It was down to local campaigners to get out there to tell voters of LibDem achievements, since the media wouldn’t.

Afterwards, I realised he had said nothing about civil liberties – which seem to be increasingly under threat, particularly with knee-jerk reactions to the riots - and nothing about next year’s election for Mayor of London – probably just as well, since the LibDems will be voting for their candidate at the end of August - and one of those standing is Lembit Opik.

It was a cold, gloomy evening before Christmas when I wandered to the relatively local King's Head pub to see Chris Biscoe. The saxophonist is one of my favourite British musicians, and I reckoned if he were to play in my back yard, I ought to do him the honour of turning up and supporting him. (Some might call this "community". I'm sure they'd be wrong...) I am very glad I did.

Firstly, the music was great: the quartet were playing the music of Charles Mingus and Eric Dolphy. I love Mingus' music. Dolphy's I find a lot harder: free-er, it isn't music that I listen to at home; it requires full attention. Live, though, free jazz comes into its own. And this band played it very well. (As a measure of its freedom, most of Dolphy's tunes seemed to include the word "Out": I have "Out to Lunch" and listen to it often; I didn't know "Out There" or any of the other Outs that were played.)

But secondly, I was glad to be there to support the music I love. Because when the band started, the audience numbered just six, including me. Only six people could be arsed to go out and here these great musicians play such brilliant music?

By the end of the evening, there were twenty or so in the audience.

I don't know why so few people were there. It was coming up to Christmas, so people were busy. It was a grotty night - I nearly didn't go out, so manky was the weather. It was a one-off jazz gig in a pub more famed for its comedy club. Who knows why else?

Frankly, that so few people were there made it feel rather special: there was no distance between the band and the audience. Jazz gigs are often low-key affairs where the musicians chat to the audience in the interval, but this felt like it was in my front room. (If my front room were a basement bar... Now that's an idea!) I felt so strongly that I wanted to support the music that I bought Biscoe's latest CD. And lots of beer. (Complete self-sacrifice, obviously.)

So: a great gig, bizarrely unattended.

The London Jazz Festival finished last weekend, and seven days on, it seems like a good time to take stock. I went to nine paid-for gigs, two free gigs which I had planned to see, I caught a couple of free gigs which I hadn’t planned, and a couple of other free events. I had a busy ten days – possibly too busy: it felt like trying to cram six months’ live jazz into ten days – and many clashes: the curse of the festival. I had to chose what music to miss as well as what to see.

I deliberately experiment with LJF: whilst I go to some gigs where I know the musicians’ work (and expect to enjoy the gig), I also seek out people I haven’t seen before or who are doing things I haven’t heard before. I also seek out artists I’m unlikely to get a chance to see at other times of the year – this means that my selection is skewed towards foreign “big name” artists rather than London-based musicians. (Though I have long decided not to see artists just because I think they are likely to die: I saw Art Blakey the year before he died for this reason, and I wish I hadn’t – he was a shadow of his former self, and that’s not how I want to remember my heroes.)

All in all, then, it was an eclectic mix of musicians and styles over the ten days.

I started off with Manu Katché. Part of the festival’s French programme (there was a fair bit of jazz nationalism this year: there were French, Danish and Scottish streams – it somehow seems a bit against the grain to me, since I see jazz as an inclusive art form, encompassing peoples regardless of race or origin), he played with a quartet with saxophone as the lead instrument. Though Katché is a drummer, this wasn’t a drum-heavy sound, but it somewhat lacked the full balance of his recorded work. His drums sounded great from the back of the Royal Festival Hall – a rarity, since they are often mixed to mud in large halls. I enjoyed this set, but I didn’t think it was great music.

After a fascinating session by musicians Soweto Kinch and Shabaka Hutchins exploring the roots and evolution of jazz (part of the festival’s free education programme, they had two conversations over two days – these were a really interesting couple of afternoons), I ventured out to Kingston for Andy Sheppard’s Movements in Colour and Didier Malherbe’s Hadouk Trio. I wrote about this gig for the LondonJazz blog, so I won’t repeat myself here. This was very “world” tinged jazz. Malherbe’s band were interesting, lively and unexpected; Sheppard’s more – well, chilled. It is no surprised that they record on ECM – they have that very cool, European sound. Despite Sheppard’s excellent – though controlled – sax playing, the star for me was bassist Arild Andersen. I’d go a long way to see him play.

Which I did the next day, venturing across London to see him play with John Etherdige and John Marshall. This was just a brilliant gig. It covered a range of moods, from relaxed to energetic, whilst maintaining a cohesive voice. Both Andersen and Etheridge used electronic looping to construct tracks to play along to, building up the layers of sound. They were, frankly, great. Marshall added so much – playing without amplification (the Bull’s Head, though one of London’s foremost jazz venues, is still really just a pub…), he was simultaneously subtle and powerful. This gig was just wonderful – they played exciting, adventurous music. Exactly as I expected.

Monday night was one where my high expectations weren’t fully met. It started with John Scofield in a trio with bassist Steve Swallow and drummer Bill Stewart, his regular rhythm section. (Last time I saw Swallow play, it was with Andy Sheppard…) They played a mixed set of standards and Scofield’s tunes – a couple of their standard ballads were exquisite – and all three were excellent. The disappointment came with the second set, which matched Scofield with the Scottish National Jazz Orchestra - and only because I was really looking forward to it! Playing arrangements of Sco’s tunes and some from his time with Miles Davis, it felt at times as if Sco and the SNJO were pulling in different directions – as if Sco’s loud guitar was fighting with the orchestra. Knowing both Sco and SNJO’s music, this seemed like such a waste: Sco’s record Quiet has some beautiful, haunting brass arrangements, and those commissioned by SNJO didn’t really match up.

There were some great moments – Ryan Quigley on trumpet, Martin Kershaw on alto and Alyn Cosker on drums all played good solos, and Tommy Smith, SNJO’s director, was on his usual fine form, but this was just a good rather than great gig.

Next up was Frech pianist Martial Solal in a solo gig. This was one of my wild cards, and I’m very glad I went. In the refined setting of the Wigmore Hall, Solal played a fascinating set of standards. He took a theme, dissected it, and then took off in all sorts of new directions, time and time again, in ways which reminded me of his compatriot Michel Petrucciani in his approach to the music, if not his playing style. This was quite dense music – Solal filled all the space – and it was not easy to identify what he was playing: in the interval, the people sitting behind me ran off a list of tunes they had heard, none of which I heard! What I heard over the two sets included Autumn Leaves, My Funny Valentine, Autumn Leaves, Caravan, Round Midnight, Well You Needn’t, In A Sentimental Mood, Satin Doll and All The Things You Are. Solal barely spoke to the audience, and at times it felt a bit like a classical recital – perhaps because of the venue. But there was also something very personal about Solal’s music: it was like he was sharing some secrets with us. He was brought back for several encores, joking before the third “…I like to play the piano!” This gig was a joy as Solal explored these tunes for all he was worth leading us down unexpected byways. Marvellous stuff.

After a (well deserved…) night off, two more pianists featured in a double bill. I wrote this gig for LondonJazz, too. First came Curios, a British trio featuring pianist Tom Cawley. Curios’ music left lots of space; Geri Allen’s just the opposite, as she filled every moment with notes. She had name checked Cecil Taylor and McCoy Tyner, and the influences were clear. This was one of my “experimental” gigs – I’d seen Allen before, but never solo, and she was performing in collaboration with a filmmaker. It wasn’t wholly successful, but it was very interesting. The music felt very intense; the encore, based on music by Charlie Parker, was lighter and more playful.

Before the main gig, I caught a free duo set by Scots saxophonist, flautist and piper Fraser Fyfield and guitarist Graeme Stephen. Whilst their roots were clearly in traditional Scottish music, they were also improvising. Fyfield’s piping sounded like a heavily peated whisky – this was heady stuff. I liked it so much I bought the CD!

Another double-bill followed: well, Louis Moholo-Moholo followed by Louis Moholo-Moholo… Actually a triple bill: first was Jez Nelson interviewing Moholo about his experiences as a black musician in apartheid South Africa (alternately surreal and harrowing) and then as an exile in Europe, playing with the Blue Notes, the Brotherhood of Breath and a wealth of free-jazz players. This was followed a duet set by Moholo and pianist Keith Tippett – half an hour or more of imaginative, inspiring improvisation. The second set was Moholo’s septet commemorating his birthday, “Seven for Seventy”. This band made a glorious sound, mixing township rhythms with improvisation. Featuring Jason Yarde and Ntshuks Bonga on saxes, Henry Lowther on trumpet, free-jazz firebrand John Edwards on bass, Alex Hawkins on piano and Francine Luce on vocals, this was a great band. Moholo was pushing them forward from the drum-stool, full of energy – quite how he can keep up that force and power at 70 is beyond me. This was definitely one of my favourite gigs of the festival, together with the John Etheridge Trio – things that I was really pleased to have seen!

I caught a couple of numbers by Brass Jaw in a free set at the Royal Festival Hall, but I was a bit passed it by that time. They sounded good, and it’s great they are getting recognition – they are fine musicians – but I had had enough for a Saturday night.

The Bad Plus were playing a three-night residency at Kings Place, one of the more original bits of programming during the festival. They did one night on their own, one night with singer Wendy Lewis (which had excellent reviews on Twitter!) – and the night I saw them, with Django Bates. This was one of the gig I must post in the “good but disappointing category”: I’ve seen the Bad Plus play many times, and I was looking forward to hearing their augmented quartet tackling some of the tunes I love; what I got was ninety minutes of, I think, wholly improvised music. Some of it was inspired, some very good, but a fair chunk sounded self indulgent, too. A bit like they were trying too hard. Pianist Ethan Iverson seemed to take a backseat to Bates – Iverson seemed very reticent, as if he wasn’t wanting to get involved in the music. Bates pushed forward, with Bad Plus bassist Reid Anderson and drummer Dave King being as inventive as I expected. I wanted more Iverson, though.

The last day I took advantage of more free music – in both senses of the term. There was a triple bill down at the Festival Hall – or, at least, I saw three bands... The first was a trio of Steve Lawson on bass, Otto Fischer on guitar and Tony Buck on drums. This trio didn’t grab me much – it seemed a bit like they were each playing their own thing without adding to each other; perhaps I couldn’t just make sense of it.

They were followed by Shabaka Hutchins on clarinet, Tony Bevan on sax, Phillip Barre on bass and Tom Skinner on drums. This grabbed me much more – Bevan and Hutchins played some fiery solos, Barre and Skinner pushed things along. This was much more exciting.

Best of all, though, was Orphy Robinson’s Cosmic Raw Xtra Four. I saw Orphy’s Cosmic Raw Xtra big band last year, and that was a brilliant gig. This quartet was quite different: with Lawson on bass and Fischer on guitar, and the great Steve Noble on drums, Robinson created some amazing music. It was a step above the rest – brilliant vibes and steel pan from Robinson, and energetic drums from Noble. They were all together: they played as a unit, not four individuals. It was a really exciting end to the festival.

Back in July, I went for a long walk from Wood Green to Whitechapel, eight miles and a couple of hours, through Newington Green, Dalston, and Hackney.

It was a glorious, sunny afternoon – I was worried about sunburn and dehydration – with a clear, rich blue sky.

A bit of the walk took me beside the Regent’s Canal, from Kingsland Road through to Cambridge Heath (or thereabouts).

I took some pictures. (You did know I was going to write that, didn’t you?)

(OK, I cheated a little – two of these pictures were taken on a different day, but on the same route, and they fit… Call it artistic licence!)

My last night of the Proms came a few days earlier than the last night of the Proms. I went to several Proms this year, and listened to several more on wonderful Radio3. Many years ago, I actually used to prom – when I was at school and an undergraduate (and when I was much less inclined to listen to orchestral music than I now am), I prommed a few times in the arena; later, when I was first working in London, I used to prom in the balcony, where it was possible to sit on the floor.

But for several years when I have been to the Proms, I have sat in the circle. The seats generally have a good view, and many times this year I was lucky enough to have empty seats beside me, which meant I didn’t feel as cramped as I otherwise might. One of the potential benefits of going by myself!

I made it to eleven proms this year, and heard some excellent music; there were several surprises, and a few disappointments.

The performance I most enjoyed was, by a slender margin, the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra’s rendition of Mahler’s Symphony No 3. I knew I liked Mahler, and I was lucky in that there were several Mahler symphonies in this year’s Proms – I think they had the whole cycle, in celebration of the 150th anniversary of his birth and the centenary of his death. The BBC SSO Prom had just one piece, the Mahler, and it benefited from this focus. It was glorious and majestic; the orchestra and its conductor, Donald Runnicles, created marvellous music. I thought it was brilliant.

A very close second was the Australian Youth Orchestra, one of the surprises of season for me. I chose the Proms I want to go to on the basis of the music being played, rather than the orchestra, and when booking I hadn’t noticed that it was a youth orchestra playing Shostakovich’s Symphony No 10. Others weren’t so unobservant: the Royal Albert Hall was only half full. Despite their youth, the orchestra didn’t lack maturity: their performance, under Mark Elder, was excellent – really very impressive. They opened with a premiere, which I was particularly surprised I enjoyed - Brett Dean’s Amphitheatre. Whilst I am really very pleased the Proms and the BBC supports new work, it is not often that I enjoy it. I thought this piece was lovely – it would bear listening to again. But it was the Shostakovich which really impressed. It made me think that the music was in good hands if players such as these were keeping it alive.

Shostakovich was another of the Proms’ themes for me:: I saw three of his symphonies (including the No 10). The BBC SO gave a fine performance of his famous Symphony No 5. This was one of the pieces I liked when I was first getting to grips with classical music, after hearing a Shostakovich suite at a Prom in the 1980s (I bought a CD of the suite, which also featured Symphony No 5), so I know it well. I really enjoyed the BBC SO’s performance. They opened with Arvo Part’s Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten, immediately followed by Britten’s Four Sea Interludes, both of which I love. I didn’t warm to Huw Watkin’s Violin Concerto which they premiered – I found it squeaky and jerky, and I would happily have sat that one out in the bar…

The other Shostakovich I heard was Symphony No 7, “Leningrad”. I think this is a brilliant piece of music, and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales gave a very good performance under Thierry Fischer. It was full of dynamics, the percussion working really hard. The first movement features a lot of snare drum work, a crescendo of tapping, and this started barely audibly, a slender tapping, and built and built and built as the rest of the orchestra came in until it thunder to a climax. It was only broken when, early on, the gentle snare was joined by someone’s mobile phone going off. There is a reason they ask you to switch your phone off, you know…

I saw more music by Part, too. The Proms likes anniversaries – this year was Part’s 75th birthday, and they premiered his Symphony No 4. I enjoyed this premiere a lot! I like Part, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Part was in the audience, too, and was given a truly rousing reception – it made it a very special event. I think he was being applauded for his lifetime work as much as the premiere, but it was good to see him honoured. He looked humbled by the crowd’s adoration, too.

I saw two Bruckner symphonies – another youth orchestra, the Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester, playing No 9, and the BBC SO playing No 8. The No 9 (confusingly before the No 8 in the programme) was very good. This time, the youths got a good audience, and the Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester acquitted themselves well. They played some Mahler, too – some lieder (not a great fan…) – and so did the BBC SO, who opened with the prelude to act 3 of Lohengrin. Their premiere of Tansy Davies’ Wild Card I could have done without, but I thought their performance of Bruckner Symphony No 8 was excellent – the brass sounded really powerful, a glorious sound – a fitting end to my Proms’ season!

The major disappointment for me was the Orchestra for World Peace under Valery Gergiev playing two Mahler symphonies – No 4 and No 5. After the marvellous No 3 from BBC SSO, the No 4 seemed insipid, and No 5, which I like, little better. I had expected great things from Gergiev and an orchestra comprising the best musicians (allegedly), but I would have preferred the youth of Australia or Europe, I think.

I have got behind in processing – editing – my photographs. This is partly because I have, for the last couple of months, been devoting my photographic energies to scanning several films – a great many – from a trip my ex-wife and I made to India, back in 1998 or so. The scanner is temperamental: it won’t start, it crashes, and it is slow. It is old, too, so I decided to buy a new, faster, higher spec film scanner. Which, when it arrived, failed to work.

I have finished scanning the negatives – which does mean I now have a further 420 images to edit.

To be getting on with, here are some pictures I took on a walk from Swinton St in Kings Cross to Oxford Circus early in the spring. Walking is the main way I take exercise; most of people rarely walk in London. When I walk, I look up.

This is what I saw.