When I was relatively young, my parents took me to hear the Glasgow Orpheus Choir in a Newcastle Church - it may have been the Brunswick Methodist
Church down that back alley between Fenwicks and Waterstones.
Although I was somewhat reluctant about going, when I heard the choir in full voice I couldn't but fail to be impressed by the sound that reverberated around the room and, in later years, it made me realise how churches had been built to accentuate and enhance the choir's acoustics. Hearing, say, The Easter Hymn from "Cav" in a church or a cathedral is one of those experiences that can turn committed atheists into becoming, at least, agnostics.
Jazz trios don't fare quite so well in God's house.
Ellington's Sacred Concerts beat the system because of the arrangements and the power of sixteen musicians who could unleash enough decibels to conquer the acoustic opposition.
Having said all that, don't get me wrong, this was a great gig by three musicians who maybe had the Devil on their side. It took a while but, eventually, my ears became accustomed to the quirky acoustics and I found myself hearing what I wanted to hear even it it wasn't what I was actually hearing - does that make sense?
Probably not but, in my heart of hearts, I knew that Johnson on brushes didn't really sound louder than Buddy Rich in full flight, or that pianist Wetherall wasn't playing a duet with himself and Nicola wasn't part of an act called The Farnon Sisters.
One thing is for sure, if I ever hear a better live version of Blame it on my Youth then I will truly know that I am in heaven.
In the meantime, I'd like to hear the trio in a small club with a low ceiling - maybe I'll have to go down to t'other place for that - Lance
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