(Review by Jerry).
St. Cuthbert’s
had provided the warmest possible reception (big audience, bigger applause, real
ale on tap, MASSIVE pizza and booming
CD sales alongside the half-time raffle) so Mick Shoulder’s two-fingered
gesture would have been unpardonably rude had he not merely been demonstrating
Django’s dodgy digits! Indeed Mick himself acknowledged this “lovely venue” when
signing off at the end of a hugely successful gig. An organiser talked about
their hopes of reviving a tradition of jazz in Crook by having events in this
hall on a monthly basis. All I can say, and I feel certain it would be echoed
by all those present last night, is: “Bring it on….!”
I
knew all about the dodgy digits having done extensive pre-gig research
(Wikipedia!) where I also discovered that he was Belgian (a famous one!) and
that Django means “I awoke” in Romany. The opening numbers transported us to
30’s/40’s Paris : we “awoke” to Coquette
and Belleville
and the boards echoed to tapping feet from the off. Is that just pizza baking
or can I smell onion soup? Optimism must have been in short-supply during the occupation
but the dreamy, plangent 1941 hit, Nuages, (featuring Emma Fisk and
Giles Strong) had a soaring violin finale which took us right up where the
silver-linings are! Later, Artillerie Lourde conjured different
impressions of the period inspired as it was by the guns of the Liberation
forces encircling Paris .
James Birkett was inspired to a barrage of a solo here which cranked up the
audience from tapping and clapping to whooping and whistling, at which altitude
they remained all evening!
Songe
d’Automne (another French title but from a very English writer,
Archibald Joyce, “The English Waltz King”) was aptly seasonal as was the
second-set waltz, Feuille d’Automne (another French title but from a very English
writer, Mick Shoulder!). The latter featured much appreciated pizzicato violin
from Emma: the former, with its Titanic associations, also went down well! Then
it was to Germany
for Winterstein’s delightful, whimsical, pronounceable but untranslatable, Hunn
O Pani Naschella.. I managed to discover that Pani is “water”, but drew
a blank on the other words! Any theories out there?
More
of Mick’s originals kept us voyaging (less distantly!) to Sunderland
(via Prokofiev) and Morrison’s at Bishop Auckland! The opening of Django’s
Stomp had me thinking I was in my seat at the Stadium of Light – till I
looked round and saw people smiling! Beautiful Till 3 tugged at the
heart-strings with underlying notes of unrequited love – a theme echoed later by
Olivieri’s J’attendrai, during which Mick’s solo got deserved applause.
Mostly, though, we were not “waiting” but swinging (Minor Swing) and stomping
(Stomping
at Decca) – all at a cracking pace. James Birkett’s flying left fingers
here had me wondering again how Reinhart ever managed with only two good’uns?
Troublant
Bolero featured a fine solo from Giles Strong, getting time off from
his impressive feat of concentration as the strumming powerhouse of the band,
and prompted more lexicographical musing from Mick. “Troublant” = disturbing,
unsettling OR, in certain contexts, “stirring passion”. My money is on the
last! More journeying and breakneck stuff followed with Lady Be Good and Sheik
of Araby during which Emma’s playing became so animated that I feared
for Mick beside her! I swear the tip of her bow kept passing within millimetres
of the top of his head: if he’d had a wig, she’d have “fisked” it off him! The
penultimate number, Dark Eyes, trumped even those: starting tremulously then
building and building to a frenzy from which it managed to get even faster
again! Exhausting to watch, let alone to play so Mick, wisely, entertained us Dans
Mon Endroit Tranquille, by way of an encore. This original, coupled
with the earlier Hitchcockian Sinister
Drag, re-emphasised how well both composer and band can handle moodier,
quieter stuff as well as the joyous swing. The audience loved it all and left
the band in no doubt that a swift return voyage would be expected, not merely
hoped for. Tremendous!
Oh, and by the way, you urban jazz-folks, Crook isn’t
that much of an exploration: a number 21 bus does it - you don’t have to be
Marco Polo!! See you next time?
Jerry.
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