THE DOWNSIDE OF OPTIMISM

 Elsewhere on the laptop I am using to write this there can be found a Word document.  Well, actually there can be found tens of thousands of Word documents but there's one in particular that is on my mind this afternoon.

This document is a list.  A list comprising names, dates, locations, points of view, and notable milestones along the way from half a century as a working drummer.

It's two pages of positivity, I refer and add to it quite frequently.  It serves  as a reminder of quite a number of things that all turned out rather well for me over the decades, and it comes in very handy when, as happens to so many of us so much of the time, hoped for progress, development, and subsequent successes come to nothing.

I should qualify that by stating clearly that victimhood plays no part in my day-to-day thought processes.  In spite of some of the huge disappointments that have come my way (the drum chair with one of the biggest pop bands of the 80s, a six album deal with an achingly hip record company in the 90s, a guest appearance for my band on a top TV chat show approximately twenty years ago are three particular favourites) I tend to set my coordinates towards positivity and optimism.

Setbacks are merely a consequence of stepping up to the plate, rolling the dice, or whichever cliche you prefer.  In other words, if you don't try you'll never know.

What's also interesting about successes vs setbacks (and they can often be mistaken for one another) is that they strengthen our character, and it is important that we use these life events to our best advantage, and try in so far as is possible, not to give a sh*t.  Or if you do, try not to let it show.

Suffice to say that if my Word document were a hard copy, it would be as thumbed, smudged and faded as  the original hand copied parts for 'Splanky'.  I go back to it constantly as the next disappointment is never far away.  Despite what you may infer from that last observation I do remain steadfastly optimistic about my own work and that of my many friends and colleagues who have chosen to tread a similar path, but the ineluctable fact remains that a disproportionately high percentage of what at first seem to be completely amazing new ideas never get as far as second gear, but that in itself is part of the process.

Being at the niche end of the music industry doesn't help matters, but we put ourselves here.  The opportunity for any kind of serious coverage is negligible, but is that elusive coverage (and I wrote about this just the other day) that occupies my business mind on a regular basis.  Not solely in the interest of personal advancement, but for the advancement of other deserving talents, and the scene in a more general sense.  'Twas ever thus.  By my late teens I had already dabbled with big band leading and gig promoting, and would scour the industry press of the day looking for angles and opportunities.   I'm still at it, it's part of my DNA.  Some of the things I have managed to do over the years, when examined with the benefit of hindsight and leavened with a generous helping of rational analysis, seem close to impossible.  If I thought that at the time I was nonetheless undeterred.   Optimism, pragmatism, and a tiny pinch of reality.

If things don't work out it isn't the end of the world.  The only thing that is the end of the world is the end of the world itself.

I try always to remember that the industry (if that's the word) doesn't owe me anything, and in order to bring things about I am going to have to do the majority of the legwork myself.  It's the same for everybody, even those who outwardly appear to lead utterly charmed lives rarely if ever actually do. There is a lifetime of unseen graft and sacrifice that leads up to that memorable gig or fantastic recording, and having just completed the mix of what I have no hesitation in describing as a fantastic recording I know the process of old.  What will become of this recording I don't really know as yet, but I am looking for angles as always.  If it doesn't change my life in any substantive way,  having made it happen is enough.  It's a personal career high water mark, of which there have been disproportionately more over the last five years, so I'm doing something right, even if I'm not entirely sure what that is.

In the company of a hugely gifted fellow musician the other day I joked that niche market artists are a bit like undercover agents if you'll forgive the analogy. Hiding in plain sight, planning in secret, and only needing to get lucky once.

So, let's give this one more try shall we? What could possibly go wrong?

SOMETHING'S COMING (AS SEEN ON TV, OR NOT, AS THE CASE MAY BE)

 Yesterday I was in the company of my dear friend, colleague and audio wizard Chris Traves. Our day was spent producing two tracks by my big band for imminent digital release, one is the old Broadway show tune 'Don't Rain On My Parade', and the other is a quite phenomenal reboot of music from West Side Story.

I've already showered this incredible arrangement with all kinds of superlatives, and it comes with a back story surrounding the generosity of three particular industry colleagues, none of whom I have ever met outside of the world of social media. That story I will tell in full at the time of the release, but for now I will reiterate that in 49 years of big band drumming I have never come across an arrangement quite like it. You won't be disappointed, I promise you that.

Releasing music has been a big part of my post pandemic renaissance, and it's not a secret that it was Simon Spillett's superb big band project that was the catalyst for my reinvention as. a producer. 

So to misquote Alfred Lord Tennyson, in spring a young record producer's fancy turns to thoughts of publicity.

Listening to some of the music that has been created over the last three years I sometimes feel that the very existence of the finished products is sufficient. Copies get sold online and at live events. Releases get extremely favourable reviews, the counter staff at my local post office all know me by name, and some hugely talented individuals get to record great music for proper session fees.

But then there is another part of me, the part that can't help thinking 'what if?' How great it would be to be able to connect this music to people beyond the range of our little niche, and, dare I say it, get some mainstream coverage.

After all, everything we have put out is strong on melody and structure; nothing on the label could be considered experimental (I'm fine with cutting edge innovation but it's not an area for investment as far as I am concerned).

So what's the answer? 

I do spend a considerable amount of time seeking to develop media contacts away from the jazz world. I'm always looking for angles that could be developed. It's not entirely unsuccessful but doesn't always yield appropriate results. In fact, within the last little while, once within the last ten days or so, I have been in receipt of paid offers of national press features, however both offers would have required a level of indescretion that I wasn't prepared to entertain, and so were politely declined.

So that brings me back to an option I have explored on quite a number of occasions previously, using a professional publicist. If you get lucky this can result in radio play, print media coverage, or that holiest of grails, broadcast media coverage.

I have employed several publicists on an ad hoc basis over the years. A couple of whom tried very hard on my behalf and did achieve some actual, tangible results. There have been others who literally took my money and did absolutely nothing. Names available on request.

Looking at broadcast media, because nothing sells a product quite like that famous old strapline 'As Seen on TV' begs the questions what and where? I was born in a two channel world. BBC2 did not go to air until a couple of months after my first birthday, and it would be four or so years later before our family TV set was upgraded to a three channel model with the (for the time) pin sharp 625 line definition of BBC2. This is important too, and I'll get back to it later.

Looking back at TV schedules of that era there is a stark contrast with the world we live in today. The amount of music performance that appeared on those limited schedules, (remember closedown and the beep?) makes up a far higher percentage of broadcast hours than now. Dedicated music shows, variety shows, talk shows, all with house bands and often guest musical performers as well. The lack of choice by today's standards meant almost everybody was viewing the same output, which would cast the die of watercooler conversations, before workplaces had water coolers, for days afterwards. It was also very good for community and societal cohesion. Then as now there could be content that might be considered a bad influence, but there were no trigger warnings back then and people seemed to manage to think for themselves. If a programme addressed really difficult areas, a warning would be given immediately prior to transmission,a white box would be displayed in a corner of the screen and that was that.

So with all these networks with all these hours to fill, why so little music? The lazy answer from the lexicon of received wisdom is expense, and yet our state broadcaster seems to have bottomless other people's pockets where coverage of Glastonbury is concerned, which begs the question that given that 2026 is a 'fallow year' i.e. no Glasto, will the Beeb reassign that money and traverse the length and breadth of our fair land capturing footage of smaller festivals? Don't hold your breath. Five or six cameras, a couple of which could be locked off, a couple of soundies, a half decent director and you're home and dry. Not only that but think of what that could do for grass roots venues and small, self funding events.

I remember being made directly aware of the influence of television on live music as far back as 1980.  Following one of several unforgettable appearances on the Parkinson show, Buddy Rich had embarked on one of his frequent and eagerly anticipated UK tours. We had gone to a show at Nottingham's Albert Hall (that's 'an' Albert Hall rather than 'the' Albert Hall) and this gig was the setting for one of my personal favourite Buddy anecdotes which I have previously shared elsewhere and won't trouble you with again. Buddy's band was great and he played incredibly, very much as you would expect. Also the hall was at capacity. Tellingly about two months later I returned to see another great American jazz big band, the Woody Herman Orchestra. Woody had a great band too at the time, but without frequent television exposure the venue was barely a third full at best. Bear in mind that Buddy Rich had cropped up on Parkinson's show fairly frequently since 1973. In fact, at that time he did ask my former manager Derek Boulton to approach Bill Cotton at the BBC to see if he (Buddy) could host his own chat show. I bet you didn't know that!

My first sight of Buddy Rich had been on our new, late 60s Pye three channel TV. Wearing a white suit and playing at Ronnie's (it's on YouTube) the long since wiped show from the 'Jazz Scene' series was a defining moment in my young life. Hearing greatness on records is one thing, but seeing it done, that's something else.

So the ongoing quest to raise the profile of the music we create continues. Has the time come to swallow my pride and pursue a career in reality TV, or perhaps I go in search of the 'golden buzzer' and offer the artists on my label to Britain's Got Talent. What Alesha and Amanda et al would make of our new epic West Side Story is anyone's guess. Suffice to say it's no from me.