Monthly Archives: April 2019

Five Years of Playtime. Edinburgh, April 2019.

Last Thursday I went along to Playtime, my local bimonthly gig, as I often (but not always) do. Tom Bancroft pointed out that it was five years since their first show, and that seems worthy of note.

I was at the first Playtime; quite a few were, although there has apparently been at least one occasion in the last five years when the band played to an empty house. I wish I’d been there – though then it might not have been noteworthy. Nowadays, they get good houses, often standing room only (stifling in the summer!).

It started as a space for the four regular musicians – Bancroft, Martin Kershaw, Mario Caribe and Graeme Stephen – to try out new tunes, but it has become broader as they have sessions dedicated to specific influences (with new arrangements of well known tunes) and welcome guests from the lively Scottish scene and further afield, as musicians on tour stop by, and in particular, regular (and very wonderful) sessions of wholly improvised music.

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There have been many very memorable nights, and several absolutely magical. I can recall only one I was glad to hear only one set – I’d arrived late, in the interval, and I think if I’d seen the first set I might have taken the opportunity to leave during the break. But frankly one show I didn’t enjoy out of the fifty or so I must have seen seems like an excellent hit rate.

On Thursday, it was a return to their roots – trying out new tunes and arrangements. Unfortunately Graeme Stephen wasn’t there (off gigging with Sugarwork in Aberdeen), so it was a trio of Bancroft, Caribe and Kershaw providing the music. There were some lovely tunes – Bancroft’s “Occo In Scotland”, a piece written for a schools’ big band, and Caribe’s gorgeous arrangement of (I think) “Silenciosa”. Kershaw presented some new reworkings of Strayhorn and Ellington tunes, the originals of “Take The S Train” and “Stain Doll” [sic] barely hinted at.

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There was a fair bit of politics, what with Brexit confusion and parliamentary mayhem going on in the outside world. Caribe introduced “The Underbelly Of The Beast” as an attack on far right governments everywhere, and particularly his native Brasil; it might just have been the political nature of the tune, but I couldn’t help thinking of Mingus (and that’s always a good thing).

Despite the general pissed-offedness at politics, Bancroft hit a high note with a lovely tune called “Everything Is Going To Be Ok”. And in those minutes, it certainly was.

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For me and many others, Playtime has become a regular fixture, a landmark in the Edinburgh jazz scene. It attracts an audience there to listen and appreciate the music. There’s a lot of humour in the music, too – the musicians want people to listen, but don’t take themselves too seriously. The dedication to new and improvised music may not be unique, but it is hugely welcome.

Happy Birthday, Playtime!

(I didn’t take my camera to this gig, because the lighting is awful and I have many pictures of Tom, Mario and Martin already. The pictures in this post are some of my favourites from five years of Playtime from the core players and their guests.)

Ant Law, Edinburgh, and Trio HLK, Glasgow. March 2019.

I was fortunate to catch Ant Law play two gigs at the the end March. The first was in my local pub in Edinburgh, with a pick up band; the second, the following day, was with Trio HLK over in Glasgow. (I had the opportunity to see a third, when he played the Jazz Bar with another pick up band in between! But two gigs seemed sufficient.)

The Saturday afternoon slot at the Barony has become a regular thing, as they put on some of the top names in Scottish jazz, usually in a drummerless duo or trio. The band Law put together was a step up – a quartet with Callum Gourlay on bass, Sean Gibbs on trumpet and Doug Hough on drums. Gibbs and Gourlay are based down south, but I think they’d been playing Aberdeen Jazz Festival with Martin Kershaw’s octet and the SNJO.

Despite the all star band, it’s still a pub on a Saturday afternoon, with people stopping by for a pint and some lunch; and a fair degree of chatter. Which, in this environment, was fine, though some of the subtlety from Law and Gourlay’s playing might have been lost to the background hubbub. Gibbs trumpet was needle sharp and rose high above the chatter!

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It was a fun afternoon. Not too taxing, they played a bunch of familiar standards – a couple of Monk tunes, some Ellington and Strayhorn. Good Saturday afternoon fare!

For the second set the quartet were joined by saxophonist Adam Jackson, another member of Kershaw’s octet, who’d been watching appreciatively from the bar during the first half. The combination of Gibbs and Jackson was excellent, and it was a joy to hear Law close up.

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It occurred to me that I’d not heard Ant Law play standards before. But watching Trio HLK the following night corrected that misapprehension: it’s just that I’d never seen him play standards straight. Trio HLK’s tunes are largely based on standards – their album was even called Standard Time, although it is anything but. Pianist and composer Rich Harrold takes the well known and familiar, breaks them down – maybe even fractures them – and creates something totally new from the pieces. The music is complex and intricate, the three musicians (the third being drummer Richard Kass) weaving their lines together to stitch together a while new sound.

There is something very precise about the music: apart from the solos, it seems heavily composed and very thought out, though Law intimated that improvisation around fragments is essential to the trio’s creative process. For the most part, the originals on which they base their tunes are unrecognisable – at least to my ears. Smalls is apparently derived from Blue In Green (BIG – geddit?), but I couldn’t hear it. Similarly, Anthropomorphic, their take on Dizzy Gillespie’s Anthropology, seemed a long way from its bebop roots. One exception I’d TWILT, which was recognisable as The Way You Look Tonight before heading off in some unexpected directions.

But this doesn’t matter, because what they create is very compelling on its own account. The musicianship was of the highest order. All three were frankly remarkable. Kass’s ability to drop in and out of difficult time signatures (which I couldn’t even count) whilst changing tempo and yet be in precisely the right place to match a flourish on the piano seemed inimitable. The one tune that didn’t work for me was a new one, out for its first play – a take on All Blues which had a lurching rhythm, as if it was constantly about to fall over; but the rest were, for me, excellent.

The gig was very intimate, a small but perfectly formed and hugely appreciative audience within touching distance of the band. With Law seated behind a music stand and Harrold hidden behind his piano (at least from where I was sitting), Kass’s energetic but controlled drumming provided the only visual stimulus, although it was fascinating to be able to watch him so closely – he made it look easy (which I’m certain it wasn’t). The band were chatting to the audience during the interval and after the show – indeed, there was a fair bit of banter from the audience between numbers, too. The highly structured, precise nature of some of the music could appear cold, but the band were anything but: their warmth flooded the hall.