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| © Russell |
“If you build it,” says Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams, “they will come.” And lo, in Rothbury they did build it and lo further, they did come. This was the fourth in Coquetdale Jazz’s increasingly successful programme and with a quintet, their biggest band yet. So, having bought my ticket at the local delicatessen the week before, I donned my coolest shades as protection against the bright lights of Rothbury and headed north-west.
Tonight’s gig saw three members of the magisterial Voice of The North Jazz Orchestra on stage. The VOTN was an early victim of Tory austerity implemented by politicians who wouldn’t understand the word culture if you wrote it on the side of a banana milk-shake and threw it at them.
Leaving
my sour mood at the door, I squeezed into one of the few available seats. It’s
a small room with the musicians packed into the corner in front of a large
Coquetdale Jazz sign tied off at the corners to any available projection on
windows and furniture. It’s cosy and homely, a bit out of character for what
followed.
They
opened with a Horace Silver tune The Gringo. It’s almost the tenth anniversary of Silver’s passing and he
would get a few mentions this evening. The tune is a piece of mid-paced bebop,
Latin swing with an uplifting joyous melody out of which Ferris erupts to solo
with the rhythm section laying down a solid backing. Hardy’s flugelhorn solo
brings a bit of sunshine. During the ensemble section that follows horn and sax
combine beautifully in a single voice. Still on the Silver surf, Song For My Father comes next and I
wonder how many of those gathered here tonight haven’t heard the piece before.*
It’s a perfect introduction to bop in particular and jazz in general. Lawrence
throws a few unfamiliar different shapes into the mix. Hardy’s solo lifts and
rises over Lawrence’s chordal accompaniment. Lawrence’s solo is a gentle beast
compared to the rolling original. Bass and drums ARE SUBSTANTIAL. Ferris blows
long, melancholy notes and picks up pace rolling and repeating and throwing out
bursts of short note phrases.
Paul
Edis’ McCoin a Phrase follows. The
band crash into it with splashing cymbals; it’s full of 1970s' New York grit
and sounds like a theme for a private eye film, more Shaft than Gumshoe. We’re
not in Rothbury any more (Toto), we’re crossing 110th Street.
Lawrence plays a lovely fluid solo (his piano could have done with being turned
up a bit) before Ferris’ powerful blowing restates the urban blues, breaking
free occasionally to lift the mood. Andy Champion solos, dancing around the
melody, probing and challenging with Bradford rattling along behind him. The
title is obviously a reference to Mr Tyner and the piece does have something of
the expansiveness of the classic Coltrane quartet.
The
first half closes with One Hand, One
Heart from West Side Story. It’s
a gentle ballad given a widescreen voice by the ensemble before Hardy blows a
lovely flowing solo before handing off to Ferris to do something similar. This
is fluid, modern dance music and you can almost see the bodies moving, not that
there’s space in the place to dance. It’s a song for twilight to which Lawrence
adds a solo of ethereal fragility.
The
second set starts with another piece of rolling Blue Note funk with a few new
angles thrown in. I’m awarding points all round for the ensemble sound again.
Ferris’ solo is dense and twisting and packed with notes. Hardy’s is sharp and
cutting, full of piercing higher notes; he’s really reaching out. Lawrence
picks up the character of the tune and carries it into a series of delicate runs
over percussive left hand chords. Champion’s solo is jumping and jogging, full
of majesty and depth, so heavy he sounds like he’s throwing boulders downstream
as he moves up the neck of his bass to bring extra weight. Bradford explodes
into a furious solo punctuated by prompts from Champion and Lawrence and the
crowd explodes in turn as they finish and I think ‘This! In Rothbury?’
A
tune by Ben Lawrence comes next, called Grand Nain, referencing bananas.
Bright chords to which Bradford adds a click track and cymbal splashes before a
long blowing ensemble section turns into a walking blues. Ferris adds a
swinging solo.
Horace
Silver’s Nica’s Dream has a
punchy opening that leads into more Latin funk and into Champion’s bouncing,
high stepping, popping solo using all the bass’ voices. Ferris storms in with a charging, full
blooded solo to round things off. Listening to these tunes played with such
irresistible, energetic enthusiasm is just a joy.
They
close with Cole Porter’s My Heart Belongs
to Daddy for which Ferris produces and assembles a flute to play in duet
with Champion’s bass whilst Bradford gently brushes the drums and Lawrence adds
decorative swirls on piano. The flugelhorn seems more at home on this slow-stepping
blues. Lawrence picks the bones out of the melody and adds some fluid runs with
occasional nods back to the title and its inherent innuendos. As they come back
together Ferris’ flute seems to echo the jazz age of the 1920s and 30s.
I
had arrived expecting a reasonably entertaining evening. Instead we got a band
that is capable of heating up any room, bursting with energy and talent,
blowing the cobwebs off some standards and adding a few new pieces of their
own. This one will appear on my list of gigs of the year. Beat a path to
Rothbury, last night it felt it was where it’s happening!
*John Fordham in a Horace Silver overview
after his death said “From the mid-1950s on, the perfect antidote for jazz fans
to the grumbles of the jazz-averse (that it was a wilfully obscure music, made
by introverts who didn’t know the meaning of "entertainment") was to
spin them a Horace Silver record.” Dave
Sayer
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