Sometimes these blogs posts deal with highly specific topics relating to drums and the music industry. Sometimes the posts have a much broader implication and serve as metaphors for the wider a world and the essence of human nature itself. This is such an instance.
Yesterday (October 12th 2017) was a busy and often frustrating day. Several times during the day I was beset by unnecessary triviality which need not have even occurred if other people were on top of their designated tasks. Incompetence in other words. An upcoming industry event in which I was scheduled to participate got cancelled and a first year student described me as 'old'. So really very much a 'why do I bother' sort of a day. I get about four or five of them a year so on the balance of probabilities I'm free and clear until just after Christmas.
Then I looked in my phone and found a messenger request from someone not in my social network.
This is 'why I bother'.
Hi Pete. I'm a young drummer from
Dublin. Sorry to be spamming your personal page but I couldn't find a way to
direct message your music one. I felt the urgent need to drop you a line and
thank youfor all the invaluable resource material and wisdom you have made
publicly available online. I know by the depth of your knowledge and sincerity
of your delivery that you haven't come by any of these lessons cheaply. Thank
you for sharing the fruits of a lifetime investment of time without any promise
of a return. Your stories and guidance, not to mention the success of your big
band, are of huge benefit and a source of inspiration to a young player like
myself, unsure of how to go about moulding or shaping a brand or identity as a
musician. Not to mention whether or not the risk of typecasting oneself into a
particular style or scenario is even a good idea in a market as small as
Dublin! If you made it this far then thanks again. Can't wait to get my hands
on the DVD! All the best, Ben Cooper
So Ben got some inspiration and motivation from some of my music, and in sending his message inspired and motivated me right back. It's a good strategy. Give it a try.
About a week ago a very old clip turned up in a YouTube suggestion.
The clip, although low in quality captured the big band on very good form from a particularly busy and artistically fruitful period from 1999, where we managed to get a pretty substantial tour together with the help of a small grant from the Arts Council.
The aim of that tour was to take a lot of the repertoire from the Playing With Fire record, plus a selection of material that had become key parts of the live shows, and to present it to a wider, general audience aside from our dedicated London hard core who had unfailingly supported us since the band's debut four years previously.
Right from the beginning I had decided I wanted to do something a little bit different. There was/is a long history of musicians getting together to play big band jazz for pleasure, where bands play music they enjoy. If an audience happens to enjoy it, that's a bonus. Traditionally this has taken place in pub function rooms and clubs, whereas 'professional' engagements by big bands have been more geared towards an axis of Glenn Miller/Rat Pack formulaic nostalgia, complete with smiling vocalists and penguin suits for all, or worse, the abomination that is middle aged to elderly men dressed up as WW2 boy soldiers.
In the mid 90s and my early 30s I was still idealistic enough (and still am incidentally) to believe that it might be possible to take the 'musicians' music' out of the pub rooms and present it on a proper platform. I had managed to source a lot of scores from the USA that no other bands were playing at the time, together with a selection of Bob Mintzer and Thad Jones charts. Some bands played one or two of these but nobody had attained the precision we had on account of hundreds of hours of rehearsal. Perhaps most importantly a number of musicians began to contribute original material, and it was thanks to Matt Wates, Matt Regan and particularly Frank Griffith that we were able to assemble our own, recognisable repertoire. Frank and I collaborated on a version of Monty Alexander's 'Regulator', I borrowed a chart from the repertoire of the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, one from Peter Herbolzheimer's band and with that we had enough material to record a well-paced, balanced debut album. Added to which the cover photo (all leather trousers, big hair, bare feet and pout) was a deliberate and tongue-in-cheek attempt to present an image as far removed from the somewhat reactionary 'blazer-and-flannels' face of mainstream British jazz in the 90s. Years later an American radio presenter said that he had picked our record from the 100s he would regularly receive specifically because it (I) looked so different.
So it was with a look, as well as a sound that was different, and owed more to the youth jazz orchestras where most of us had had our start that we went boldly into the grown up world of theatres, concert halls and jazz festivals. Jazz festivals which were, I hasten to point out, largely untouched by major arts funding and more often than not the result of small scale local sponsorship and hours of unpaid work by seemingly tireless volunteers. I had tireless volunteers of my own without whom I could not have made all this happen. One of them once made an ill-judged phone call that managed to close an important, opening door but by and large they worked minor miracles between them.
Trips to Jersey in 1998 and again in 99 (big band booked two years running and not doing a tribute show of some kind-unprecedented!) are particularly fondly remembered, but it was an appearance at Murray Paterson's 'Rendezvous In Britain' festival in 1999 and again in 2000 that really made the most impact.
Here was an audience who totally 'got' what we were about.
Nobody said "Big band is Glenn Miller", "They look like students" or "How can you listen to that?" three genuine quotes.
This generated enough momentum to top a few polls, get a bigger record deal and do more playing. What with one thing and another by 2005 the tide was well on its way out. At that time I was interviewed as part of a major feature about British big bands for the now defunct Jazz UK magazine. On publication they gave over almost all the column inches to bands who were playing 'tribute' music and we were totally omitted from the published article. It was my anger at this snub that was the stimulus for our third album, and when the following year I received the first request to present an evening of music made famous by Buddy Rich it was a pragmatic (though by no means overnight) decision to respond in the affirmative.
I miss the excitement that comes from doing something new; playing music that people have never heard before, and I seldom see any of the great players who were such an essential part of this creative period. I just found the entire 1999 Rendezvous In Britain concert on an old disc and uploaded it to YouTube so if you have an hour or two to spare and you like this sort of thing you may wish to take a look.
I took a look, and as a result am feeling that it may be time to do it all again.
Part 1
Part 2
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