Ronnie Scott's

Another of those good BBC4 documentaries appeared a couple of months ago about Ronnie Scott’s - that most prominent of jazz clubs in the UK - and it got me thinking about a particular period in my life when visiting this place was frequent. I have mentioned in other posts that I studied at Guildhall which - at the time - and possibly still - was known as being one of the most outward looking, well rounded under-graduate music courses. When I was there, it was one of only two colleges in London that had a jazz course and tended to attract students that were quirkier, interested in exploring classical and other types of music and were also looking at the subject in it’s broadest sense; music therapy for example, music psychology, ‘world’ music and so on.

At eighteen however, I was a complete fool, had little or no focus or drive, no idea what I was going to do once graduated, and was lazy. My thinking had ventured as far as ‘let’s go to college and live happily ever after’ and the prospect of three years of arsing around felt like a pleasingly long time. The faintest glimmer of sense however peeped through this fug of student idiocy with the vague realisation that I had better make the most of being in this great city. That meant gorging on all sorts of live music - as much and as often as possible.

I can’t remember the first time I went to Ronnie’s exactly - only that it was during this period - and that seeing one particular band left me unable to speak as I was so awestruck. The band in question was ‘Irakere’ and the profundity of their effect on me was even now, difficult to put into words. This astonishing Cuban Band had all the chops of jazzers, all the groove of great latin players, could all sing, play their instruments brilliantly, and played percussion better than any of us so-called percussionists. On seeing them I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; on the one hand it left me feeling that I had no right to call myself a musician - let alone a percussionist, and on the other it was completely inspirational. I went back to see them many times and in lots of venues, but it was definitely Ronnie’s that I associate them with.

The student world felt vey different then; we all had our fees paid, and there were varying degrees of grants depending on parental income. It meant that if we got a job, it was more or less disposable income, and my goodness did we dispose of it. Although I acquired my first teaching job in the second year, I liked having other jobs - people watching was stimulating - and to be honest I sometimes needed a break from music students. There was something unbalanced about staring in the mirror at all these dysfunctional musos, so I liked to get jobs in the ‘real’ world. I worked in offices, bars, factories - whatever time allowed - and enjoyed spending the whole lot on going out. My brain now is swimming with all those venues; The Bull’s Head in Barnes, The Half Moon in Putney, The Bass Clef in Old Street, Pizza Express, The 100 Club, The 606 Club……. We went to all the bigger venues as well, but it was the smaller ones I preferred then - and still do. I remember someone flinging me some tickets once to go and see Peter Gabriel at Earls Court and it was horribly disappointing. The sound was rubbish and we would have seen far more watching on the telly. The same happened with Al Jarreau at Wembley and those bigger venues were expensive and of course far less intimate. I liked seeing the musicians breathe - sweat even - and loved the experience of physically feeling the music. In Ronnie’s, we tended to go on a Monday to Thursday (where entry for students was the princely sum of £4 - no wonder the club was broke) and the venue was often half empty on those nights. So we could sit near the front, literally feel the vibes and see these world class musicians creating their magic from close-up. Ronnie himself always introduced the acts and sounded so bored - pissed off even - cracking his disinterested jokes, and we now know that he probably was. We subsequently discovered the great man suffered from debilitating depression and could never quite reach the nirvana he craved from his own music making.

It has been frustrating writing this actually trying to remember all the superb musicians we saw and I have been trying to reflect on why. Is it simply the passage of time? Very likely, but I also suspect that frankly alcohol played it’s part. Going out meant swimming through a hazy smog of booze and fags and we were often out until 3am. There was also an atmosphere that I can only conjure up when I think about how one feels in happy childhood moments; I neither knew nor cared what day of the week it was. There was a freedom that has never been captured since, which was about spontaneity and inspiration. Is this looking back at youth through rose-tinted spectacles? A simple bit of middle aged nostalgia? Maybe. Having watched the programme about Ronnie and his famous club, I couldn’t shake off a vague feeling of melancholy that hung around for a few days. It wasn’t the worst kind of sadness, just a strong sense that I had been reminiscing about the time of my life….

Reflecting on a title for this particular post, I wanted something that was snappier, more eye-catching, more incisive. But then I decided that it’s iconic resonance should speak for itself. The title is so ‘London’, so famous, so much about jazz from these islands, that I have decided to leave it there - dangling, spreading it’s essence everywhere. Thank you Ronnie for the wonderful memories, continuing great music, some of the best experiences of my youth and for embracing some of the greatest musicians on earth. That’s a pretty good legacy.

Uplifting music of the day: - ‘Bailando Asi’ written by Manolo Del Valle and as performed by Irakere. Listen and rejoice! Energy, smouldering heat, a groove like no other and awesome musicianship.

Contemplative music of the day: - ‘Adagio for Strings’ by Samuel Barber. This was mentioned on social media recently and is a reminder of a very beautiful piece with a huge climax. It expresses the honesty of the composer - I love it.