Post 529: THE GOLD STANDARD IN JAZZ PLAYING - A RECENT CORRESPONDENCE

E-MAIL 1

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Hi I,
Just to set on record how much Barry, Bruce and I thoroughly enjoyed this lunchtime's jazz session at the D&G. What a splendid group of musicians, and all of you 'gelling' in the tunes you played. We agreed that it was the most enjoyable musical event we'd been to for a very long time. I hope the same group can be gathered again for another performance - it really was outstandingly good.
Goes to prove a theory I developed decades ago that the functions one thinks could be a bit 'dodgy' - you had warned me! - often turn out to be excellent.

C.

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E-MAIL 2

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Hi C,

Thanks very much for the kind compliments. I am glad you enjoyed the performance.

I thought we did well but that so much could have been better. I have been spoilt by frequent exposure to the playing of Tuba Skinny and The Shotgun Jazz Band. They are the Gold Standard. So, whenever I play in any band, I am all too aware of how our performance compares with theirs.

Always, I find us defective in many respects. I think we could improve our playing just a little if we had rehearsals and if we discussed and analysed our playing intelligently and critically.

But the truth is: we old guys are simply not good enough. We do our best and can be reasonably entertaining but we are many miles short of the top-quality stuff.

Best wishes,

I.

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E-MAIL 3

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Hi I,

I think we can all appreciate the Gold Standard whenever we come across it, whether it be in the arts, sport or any other field of human endeavour. That it's given to so few people to reach is what makes it special and admirable.

But if we all tried to reach that sort of standard in our chosen fields of activity, there would be much disappointment and the suicide rate would rocket!

We live in the English East Midlands, not in New Orleans, and I think we should treasure the talent that the region has to offer us - not least musically. OK, not Shotgun or Tuba Skinny, but I really don't think that matters at all - Thursday's outing to the D&G had three of us singing the band's praises on the way home.

Incidentally, the ride to and from the D&G in Bruce's new, automatic, 4-seater sports Mercedes was a treat in itself: the technology in that car is quite remarkable. It can do just about everything short of making a dry martini!

C.

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E-MAIL 4

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Dear C,

Thanks as ever for talking good sense to me.

I think if you want a Mercedes that serves dry martini, you need the 2017 E Class Coupé.

I don't feel 'suicidal' about my inability to play like the youngsters in New Orleans, though I am envious and frustrated.

Your comparison with sport is spot on. When, long ago (in 1988) I took part in The London Marathon, even though I finished 10956^th, two hours behind the winner, I was on a high for days afterwards. It's the same with playing jazz: I feel exhilarated by the attempt, despite the frustrations.

Best wishes,

I.

Post 459: JAZZ - BUSKING IN THE STREETS = 'STREET JAZZ'?

In 2016, I noticed the expression 'street jazz' being used with increasing frequency. Perhaps you have too? But what is this 'street jazz'? Some kind of new genre?

Photo : Guy Hardy

No. I think what has happened is that many good traditional jazz bands now play in the streets, with the result that more and more passers-by are amazed at what they hear and - not understanding that our music has a 120-year-old history - have given it the handy new name of 'street jazz'.

An email I received said: 'Can you help, please? We are trying to find a street jazz band to play at our wedding reception.' 

And the great Baby Soda Jazz Band in New York on its website introduces itself as follows: Baby Soda is on the forefront of a new movement loosely known as street jazz, with an eclectic set of influences ranging from 30s era swing, New Orleans jazz, and southern gospel. The ensemble doesn't desire to recreate the past; rather, they bring the concept and joy of the music to the present.

If you look up 'street jazz' on the Internet, you find the expression has caught on in dancing circles too. This is not surprising, even though it appears that the dancing classes use a variety of rhythmic 'funky' music - not exclusively traditional jazz.

But it really is pleasing that a younger generation is beginning to discover and enjoy our music on the streets. As regular readers will know, I strongly recommend that our bands should do some Outreach Work by playing at convenient places in their town centres. They can attract bookings that way too.

Post 438: AT THE JAZZ BAND CONCERT - PLAYING REQUESTS

It often happens - especially at less formal gigs - that bands receive requests from the audience to play particular tunes.

Should the band play requests or not?

I have come across bands who have a fixed playlist to which they adhere rigidly, refusing to take any requests. On the whole, I think this is a pity. However, I can appreciate that the musicians in such cases want to sound as competent as possible and want to be heard at their best, especially if they have a well-prepared, well-rehearsed programme.

Sometimes a band receives a request that seems crazy in the circumstances. For example, a trio comprising clarinet, guitar and string bass is asked to play South Rampart Street Parade - a number that requires a big band and, ideally, at least one powerful trombonist. Or you have a request to play Stranger on the Shore (a clarinet feature) at a time when there is no clarinetist in the line-up. The person making the request is thinking of the pleasure he derived from recordings and is unable to grasp the limitations of the instruments in front of him.

Surprisingly, I have seen some musicians attempt to oblige even when 'asked for the impossible' in this way; but the result is more often than not disappointing. So it is better to deflect such requests and explain why they are impractical.

An irritating experience that I'm sure many musicians will recognize is this: someone comes up to you and requests a tune; you agree and start playing it for him. Then you notice that he has wandered off into the distance and is in animated conversation with somebody, neither of them bothering to listen. What is the point of such requests? I have no idea. Maybe such people simply wish to show off to their friends that they actually know the name of at least one tune!

I have been present on occasions when a band has been requested to play a tune that is obviously not in its repertoire. Two or three of the musicians say they vaguely know it and the band agrees to 'give it a go'. The result has usually been messy and it would have been better if the band had simply declined the request. I accept that audiences seem to admire these brave attempts but on the whole I do not think it is good for a band in public performance to be seen struggling.

The tunes most often requested (in my experience) are When The Saints Go Marching In, Sweet Georgia Brown, Stranger on the Shore, Twelfth Street Rag and Tiger Rag. All bands can play these very readily - they have had to do so hundreds of times. Some musicians groan when they are asked to play When The Saints yet again; but it is their job to please the public, so their best tactic is to blot out memories of all previous performances and do their best to play the tune in a fresh and appealing manner.

On the whole, I think bands have to put the customer first and should welcome requests. But they should also be prepared to say a polite 'No' rather than risk making fools of themselves.

Post 418: THE HISTORY OF NOTTINGHAM

Here in Nottingham, where I have lived for the last ten years, one of the most famous buildings is The Bell Inn.

It is situated right in the City Centre, at 18, Angel Row. The inn dates from the Fifteenth Century and is the oldest pub in the City. Its cellars include hand-carved caves dating from the Twelfth Century.

The Bell Inn is of special importance to lovers of our music because for many years on Sunday lunchtimes a traditional jazz band has played at The Bell Inn. So it is a popular local venue.

Although the personnel has changed slightly over the years, there is a resident band and the quality of its music is high.

It was a special pleasure for me to be invited to deputise in the band on 13 September 2015 and again on 3 July 2016 and 11 September 2016, when the regular trumpet player was away on holiday. It was one of the best six-piece bands in which I have had the privilege of playing. There were on all occasions about 100 customers in the pub and many of them were obviously the core of regulars - seriously interested in the music and attentive to everything. Many customers were also enjoying the excellent Sunday lunch provided.

But telling you all this is just a crafty way of getting round to an un-jazzy subject that appeals to me. It is about Nottingham itself - a city which I have come to love. I want to share with you an interesting aspect of its history - how it got its name.

Fifteen hundred years ago, quite close to where I am typing right now, there lived Old Man Snotta.

To make a living, Snotta did a lot of trading. He set up Snotta’s Trading Centre where he bought and sold meat, animal fats, pigs, sheep, pottery, simple farming equipment, and especially garments, many of which had been made by his wife, his daughters and his sisters, who did their own weaving. His shop looked like this.

He also sold a nice line in designer footwear made from cattle skins by his son Wulfran.

Snotta was the local Mr. Big. So it is not surprising that the area round Snotta’s Trading Centre became known as Snottastun (Anglo-Saxon for Snotta’s Town).

Snotta built himself a home nearby (not too close, as he considered the Trading Centre a somewhat downmarket area). He chose a site conveniently near the river. The frame of the house was constructed from wood, cut from more than a dozen tree trunks. The house was basically one large room. For insulation, his brother – who was good at thatching – made him a thatched roof. They filled in the walls with planks and with wattle and daub. It must have been rather like this modern replica.

Being relatively prosperous, Snotta opted for a wooden floor, too. And he had a form of interior lighting – lamps burning animal fat. The house had no glass windows; people were still ignorant of glass, Mr. Snotta made do with vellum as a cover for his primitive 'window'.

In the centre of the home was a fire, built on a raised clay hearth. This was somewhat hazardous, but in the winter the Snottas were too cold to worry about the danger of the house burning down.

The house was built facing south, to make the most of the sun’s warmth.

As Mr. Snotta was quite somebody in the small community, the place where he lived became known at Snottasham. (Anglo-Saxon for Snotta’s Home).

In those days, just as today, when men such as Mr. Snotta died, the descendants often continued to run the business and live in the home. Descendants were indicated in Anglo-Saxon by the suffix ‘ing’. So his Trading Centre became Snotta-ing-tun; and his home became Snotta-ing-ham.

Other examples in England are to be found in Dersingham [the home of the descendants of Deorsige] and Walsingham [the home of the descendants of Wal].

A few centuries later, the Normans invaded England and they were particularly attracted to Snottaingham, where they developed a town and a castle of their own. But they were unfamiliar with words beginning 'Sn – ' and found them difficult to pronounce. So they dropped the 'S'. Thus, the place name eventually became simplified to Nottingham, which it is still called today.

I bet Old Man Snotta was rejoicing in his grave in 1980 when the Nottingham Forest Football Team – still bearing his name – won the European Cup.

But what about Snotta's trading centre at Snottaingtun? Well, the Normans weren’t so keen on that part of the region and left it to the Anglo-Saxons, with whom they soon integrated well. The Anglo-Saxons had no reason to drop the ‘S’, so it remained as Snottaingtun. And all that happened over the next thousand years was that its pronunciation and spelling were smoothed into the present-day Sneinton.

So today (no kidding) we have the glorious City of Nottingham, and – just a mile east of its centre – the suburb of Sneinton.

Well done, Mr. Snotta. Your name is thus curiously perpetuated in two adjoining locations.

Post 312: MUZAK? UGH!

I was having a meal in a smart restaurant here in Nottingham with eight other people. The food and drinks were excellent (as well as pretty expensive). This was a classy place.

But in the background - constantly - there came the sound over loudspeakers of 'music'. The recording did not seem to be music played on musical instruments by real musicians. I guess it was computer-generated. It sounded like this:

Doum doum doum doum doum doum doum etc. - with some kind of two-bar riff as if plucked on a single string and repeated ad nauseam.

When the 'track' ended, it was replaced by another, almost identical. And so on all the evening.

I found it so irritating that I thought about asking the management to switch it off. I wondered whether everybody else was as annoyed by it as I was.

I looked around the restaurant. Neither my party nor people at other tables appeared the slightest bit troubled by it. And I have to admit it was being played quietly. It did not prevent people from holding animated and audible conversations.

So I could not bring myself to be so curmudgeonly as to complain and I did not even mention the matter to anybody before we left the restaurant.

I then asked people who had been with me: Did you notice whether there was any background music being played over loudspeakers in the restaurant?

The most common answer was 'I can't remember'!

To those who answered, 'Yes', I then asked whether they could describe what kind of music is was. NOBODY could.

Interesting?

Post 303: THE SORRY STATE OF U.K. JAZZ CLUBS

We read in the December edition of Jazz Guide about yet another traditional jazz club in England that is closing down for good at the end of 2015, after having hosted jazz bands pretty well every Thursday night for many years.

This seems to be the trend in England. Audiences are dwindling. Each club has its own little nucleus of elderly folk who try to attend regularly. But as these people die or become incapable of turning out, the club withers.

Here's a recent photo taken at one of England's more successful clubs. Its sessions are held at lunchtimes on Sundays.

Fewer than fifty people attended and they were elderly. It's hard to imagine that even such a club as this will still be in operation a few years from now.

I'm sorry to paint this gloomy picture and - as regular readers know - I am thrilled that there is still some great traditional jazz being played by young people throughout the world, if you care to look for it.

But in England, ask 'the man in the street' where you can go to hear a live traditional jazz band, and he would be unable to tell you. In fact, he might not even understand your question.

The music gets so little exposure in the most influential of the media.

When Christmas shopping, I visited the store that has the largest collection of CDs in Nottingham. It has a section labelled 'JAZZ'. But I couldn't find a single CD that could indisputably be described as 'traditional jazz'.

The last two generations have grown up on the disco music of recent decades and are unaware of much else. Making matters worse, music education in schools is very limited. It seems to me that it's only the privileged few who even learn to play an instrument.

Fortunately, we have twenty or so brilliant musicians in the United Kingdom who are under the age of forty and playing fine traditional jazz. But that's not many in a population of about 65,000,000. In general the future for traditional jazz in England is not looking good.

Post 246: WHAT IS GOOD TRADITIONAL JAZZ?

I received this e-mail:

Hi Ivan,

You have strong opinions about what is good traditional jazz and what is bad. I know nothing about music. I can't read music. I never learnt to play an instrument. Can you please explain to me what makes some jazz performances better than others?

Wow! That's a tough question.

So let me say right from the start that appreciating any kind of art is a very personal matter. What pleases me may not please you. And that is just how it should be. So I will answer the question in my own way but shall not be surprised if you hold a completely different opinion.

Knowing about music

First, I don't think it's essential to know a lot about music in order to be stirred by traditional jazz or to feel the excitement that it generates. But it does add a little to the intellectual side of appreciation. For example, if you are listening to a piece made up of several different sections (e.g. Buddy's Habit or Climax Rag), it is satisfying to understand which point in the music the band has reached and to be aware when it modulates into a different key. It also makes it a little more interesting if you know something about the chord progression, no matter what tune the band is playing. In other words, you may appreciate it just a little more if you know about the 'grammar' of the music.

But with or without such knowledge, I think it's possible to distinguish between really well played traditional jazz and the not so good.

Preparing and Rehearsing

I think some bands over-rehearse. Things become too arranged and formalized. Much of the freedom and looseness that are features of the best traditional jazz are lost if the players have to concentrate too hard on their 'part' in the 'arrangement'. There is stiffness in the playing of some bands using this approach, especially if they become over-reliant on printed music on stands in front of them.

At the opposite extreme, it is common enough for good traditional jazz to be played without any rehearsal or preparation. Bring together the right mix of experienced players and a fine concert can occur.

But in general I think the best traditional jazz is produced by bands who rehearse at least occasionally, mainly to discuss their music and clarify their approaches to their repertoire. They should tidy up the trickier moments, ensure they are all using the same tune structure and chord progression and they should agree on any special tune endings. The little bit of extra work put in like that can be appreciated and pays off in a better public performance.

Amplification

In general, I think traditional jazz is likely to sound better if played without amplification. (So much 'music' in the last fifty years has been made hard to bear - for me, anyway - by the use of electronic devices and massive amplification.) It is so pleasant to hear musicians in a room with good acoustics and no amplification. You appreciate the sounds of all the instruments in their natural glory. There is no electrical 'humming' or blurring of tone. Performances in Preservation Hall (or in London's Wigmore Hall) testify to the truth of this.

But I accept that bands - in special circumstances - sometimes need amplification. In these cases, it is best if it can be kept to a minimum, for example one microphone for use by the vocalist.

Melody and Soul

Most tunes in our repertoire have stood the test of a very long time. So a good band performance must respect a good melody. There is soul in these old tunes and a good performance finds and expresses that soul. We should hear the melody clearly - maybe decorated and caressed; but it should always be there at the heart of the music. As the late great Chris Blount (clarinet) once said to me, 'If there's no soul, it's just a load of notes.'

Tempo

A good traditional jazz band sets a tempo which is appropriate to the tune and its chosen interpretation; and keeps to that tempo - other than for special effects. It's bad traditional jazz when a tune drags. (I have noticed this quite a lot in YouTube videos.) It can happen either because the tune is started too slowly or because the band slows down during the performance or because of labouring from the rhythm section - especially the drummer. (I don't know why, but On The Sunny Side of the Street is an example of a tune that is particularly prone to labouring!)

Collective Improvisation

When - in ensemble choruses - one instrument (usually the trumpet) is stating the melody, there should be creative support from the other 'front line' instruments (normally the clarinet and trombone). Teamwork is the key to great traditional jazz. If teamwork is good, the performance is more likely to impress. The support will use syncopation and counterpoint. It will be decorative and yet also - by finding the best phrases and harmonies - will push the tune along. You will feel that all three front-line players are listening and responding to each other's ideas and statements. Among today's top players, Barnabus Jones, Haruka Kickuchi and Charlie Halloran (trombones) and Chloe Feoranzo, James Evans, Jonathan Doyle, Aurora Nealand and Ewan Bleach (reeds) are examples of musicians to study on YouTube if you want to see this done supremely well.

Jazzy Devices

This is really an aspect of improvising. But it is important enough to deserve separate mention. A good performance (certainly an exciting one) usually requires a generous dose of those devices that make jazz - especially traditional jazz - so distinctive. Notes bluesily bent or flattened (in the right places), glissandi, breaks, syncopation, the use of 6ths and 9ths where they take us by surprise - all these elements enrich the performance. Without this 'jazziness' you may be left with some very pretty music for dancing but it will lack the spirit of early New Orleans jazz.

Rhythm Section

First, as my friend Barrie said to me, the expression 'rhythm section' is relatively modern and misleading. The whole band should think of itself as the rhythm section. But these days when leaders refer to their rhythm section, they mean the part of the band likely to consist of two or three or four players selected from percussion, banjo, guitar, piano, bass [string or brass]. In a good performance, these players will, as the saying goes, 'sound like one man'. They too must listen carefully to each other and to the trumpet, clarinet and trombone. In so many of the elderly British bands I have heard, or watched on YouTube, they certainly do not sound like one man: often the drummer is too loud and his rhythmic patterns are disruptive to what his colleagues seem to be trying to achieve. At least for the brighter and quicker tunes, most of the time the rhythm section in unison should play a pulsating but not too loud four-to-the-bar poom-poom-poom-poom (not um-CHUCK-um-CHUCK). This pumps the front line along and sets the audience's feet tapping. A good drummer drives the band without being loud or exhibitionist and a good pianist subjects his skills (in ensembles) to the need for a steady rhythmic and chordal underpinning of the music.

Solo Choruses

In performance, most bands include a sequence of 'solo' choruses (normally 32 bars, or even 64 bars) by several of the players in every tune. Often these solos have nothing much of interest to say (they are what Chris Blount would have called 'just a load of notes'), though, if the band has a very good pianist, they give him a rare opportunity to show what he can do. Often solo-takers try to play something stretching to the full their technical skills - showing how clever they are. I suppose this is fair enough if they are technically brilliant. Festival audiences can be counted on to applaud this sort of thing. But my view is that flashy and often raucous solo choruses are not an essential part of good traditional jazz.

Fortunately, in solo choruses a few players are technically brilliant and highly creative at the same time (James Evans again is a great example).

On the whole, though, I don't enjoy a performance padded out with numerous dull solo choruses in which the players have nothing but a string of clichés to offer. I prefer the more creative, unpredictable kind of playing (as best exemplified in the performances of Tuba Skinny) where one player takes the lead for a short time (perhaps 16 bars) but usually other players provide decorative accompaniment to this kind of 'soloing' (another example of good teamwork). Such playing gives the audiences constant delightful surprises.

Sometimes a rather special chorus contributes to a pleasing performance. For example, a band may try a 'front-line-only' chorus and even better a full-band quiet chorus (just tickling the notes) before turning up the volume for the end of the tune.

Ending the Tune

I like a tune to end well, either crisply or with a neat rehearsed coda. I think messy endings are bad.

Band Demeanour

I like all members of the band to take the music seriously. I do not like it when there is much talk between players during the performance of a tune. (Guffaws at each other's private 'jokes' are even worse.) Discreet hand signals for directing the music should be enough.

Listening Test

I will end by giving this tip to my enquirer - and to anybody else like him. When you next listen to a traditional jazz recording, try focusing your ear on just the bass player. If it's a good band, you will be amazed at the precision and importance of his or her contribution.

Now try focusing on just the clarinet. Listen carefully to the notes he or she is playing. How well and how cleverly do they blend into the overall sound?

Try listening intently to the drummer or indeed any of the instruments and you may be surprised at how much your appreciation of what the individuals do (or fail to do) helps you to sort out performances that are really 'good'.

Post 238: THE BIZARRE AUDIENCE

Why is it that many people like to talk - often at the tops of their voices - while some of the world's greatest and most creative musicians are playing sublimely only a few yards away? Audiences would not do this at a concert of classical chamber music. (And traditional jazz, in my view, is a branch of chamber music.)

Yes, members of traditional jazz audiences can be strange. I am reminded of audience behaviour I have noticed in the past.

You often come across someone who gives a band-leader a 'request' and then walks away, gets into a conversation and doesn't bother to listen when the band plays the tune.

I'm also surprised that some people who claim to be 'jazzers' or 'jazz buffs' are unable to recognise even the most common tunes from the traditional jazz repertoire.

A revealing incident occurred when I was playing in an English pub with just three other musicians: we were clarinet, cornet, banjo, string bass.

A gentleman called out, 'How about giving us South Rampart Street Parade?' Our leader replied, 'It's really a big band number. It's a tune that needs a trombone - and we haven't got one. If we try it, it won't sound good. And in any case we've never played it together before.'

So we ignored the request and played the next tune in our programme - The Darktown Strutters Ball. When we finished it, the same gentleman stood up, applauded loudly and said, 'There you are! You can play South Rampart Street Parade! Don't ever tell me again that you can't play it!'

I'm also often surprised when there is some really poor playing and yet the audience applauds heartily. For example, some member of the band takes a 32-bar solo chorus in which he obviously makes a few mistakes, hits some horrible notes, loses the harmony for a bar or two and knows very well that the sounds he is making are far from what he is attempting to make. And yet the audience still applauds at the end of the solo. It seems to be ritualistic rather than truly appreciative.

Similarly, when at the end of a mediocre performance I hear people giving it high praise, I sometimes wonder whether we have been listening to the same music. What exactly have they been hearing?

Conversely, isn't it strange how unresponsive some audiences can be, even when terrific traditional jazz is being played?

Friend and fellow trumpet player Richard Boswell from the south of England asked me to have a look at a YouTube video of Rod Mason's Band playing Grandpa's Spells in Germany. The year was 1986. It is a lively well-drilled and well-arranged performance, technically brilliant. And yet, as Richard pointed out, the audience (of whom we see quite a lot) looks uninterested, uninvolved and unresponsive. They almost look as if they are attending a funeral. (To be fair, there is just a hint at the end of the video they they were at least going to applaud.)

Click here to see the video.

All this reminds me of an incident that occurred in April 1993. I was in New Orleans for the French Quarter Festival with a party of 40 jazz fans (members of The Ken Colyer Trust) from the U.K. Quite a few treats were included in our programme. One of these was a Sunday Jazz Brunch in a top hotel - the Westin. Right beside us, as we dined, a superb band led by Clive Wilson was providing rich entertainment. His band included some of the very best musicians playing traditional jazz anywhere in the world at that time.

But I noticed that very few people in the restaurant - even among our own party - were paying attention to the music. There came a point when Clive launched into West End Blues and gave us the full Armstrong version - effortlessly (it seemed) playing that amazing opening cadenza and then even playing beautifully all the high-note stuff in the later choruses. It is no exaggeration to say it was sensationally good. Yet, at the end, nobody took any notice. I was the only person in the entire restaurant who applauded. 

Clive Wilson

When the band took a break, I had a word with Clive, mainly to say how sorry I was and to offer a kind of apology on behalf of all the customers. Clive graciously told me not to worry. He said the musicians were accustomed to that sort of thing.

It is a measure of how much the incident disappointed me that I still remember it so well.
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Footnote:

Henry - a banjo and keyboard player in Princeton, New Jersey, has emailed me to say his band (The Hot Taters) does its best to hold the audience's attention by marching in at the start (and out at the end) and by wearing flamboyant capes, masks and hats. He says the audience responds to this and the musicians consequently play better; and everybody enjoys themselves more:

Post 65: 'CHOCOLATE AVENUE'

Yet another obscure old tune has been unearthed by Tuba Skinny. We have to thank the band for reviving it after almost 90 years and for giving us such a delightful interpretation. We must also thank - as so often - the great video-maker codenamed RaoulDuke504 for being there to film it for us and for identifying it.

The tune (previously unknown to me - and probably to you too) is Chocolate Avenue - one of the forgotten numbers recorded and allegedly composed by the prolific Clarence Williams (though, according to some, Williams purloined it from Herman Blount [aka Sun Ra]).

It is a conventionally-structured 32-bar tune [ A   -  A  -  B  - A ] in Eb. The only harmonic 'surprise' is the second half of the fourth bar in the A sections,  where the harmony appears to be Eb minor where the ear would expect Eb major.

Tuba Skinny play the tune gently, four times through, without any Introduction.

Note especially the third time, where the responsibility for leading the melody is shared among the instruments, including the sousaphone and banjo, and where the cornet, clarinet and trombone play harmonising long notes during the Middle Eight.

Although this performance is a joy, it is spoiled by a dimwit in the audience just out of camera shot who after the middle of the Second Chorus keeps blowing some kind of whistle - probably one of those little wooden 'bird-whistles'. This is the kind of annoying thing that happens when a band plays in the public street. It is irritating, so I hope another opportunity will arise for RaoulDuke504 to get a 'clean' sound when this tune is played again by Tuba Skinny.

Post 54: A NEW AUDIENCE FOR OUR MUSIC?

Regular readers will know I frequently bemoan the fact that - where I live in England (and I believe in many other parts of the world) - most of the audiences for traditional jazz concerts consist of people aged 75 and above. 

The musicians, too, are mostly in that same age category.

It is no surprise that we see the audiences gradually dwindling; and the bands struggling to survive as the musicians retire or die. Venues and festivals are not as numerous as they once were.

However, one of my optimistic musician friends recently made an interesting point in a discussion with me. I think it is worth passing on.

He claims to have noticed that quite a few people, after retiring from their jobs, look for ways of keeping themselves amused and entertained in their retirement. Some of them discover - to their surprise - that traditional jazz bands are playing lunchtime concerts in pubs near where they live. After giving the music a try, they find they very much enjoy going out for a pub lunch with such musical entertainment. Still aged in their 60s, they become 'regulars', replacing the older disappearing members of the audience.

I hope my friend is right. I go to four or five pub lunchtime sessions every month and I must say I too have met just a few people in this 'new audience' category.

Of course, there is still the problem that we also need to maintain the supply of musicians, but perhaps there are also some promising amateurs who will soon retire from their day jobs and think about taking up traditional jazz playing as a hobby.