In an earlier age, bearers of bad tidings might have expected to lose their heads a split second after they had spilt the beans, and given this prospect, there must have been a few at this National Jazz Centre benefit who were thankful to be living under a benign monarchy.
In this case, the news bearers were the compères, Spike Milligan, Moira Stewart, David Rappaport and Graham Chapman, who strove, sometimes awkwardly, to link 11 different acts and ended up doing more improvising in between sets than the musicians did all night. With changeover time eating ravenously into performing time, little was left for the musicians, and most were reduced to making near cameo appearances; a casual observer might have thought this was an audition.
The billing enabled us to taste the fruits of the NJC’s all-comers policy, and it was made clear that under NJC guidance, jazz would become a complex hybrid, with roots in all directions. The event was coordinated by a lady called Susie Medley and viewed overall, the evening’s entertainment took on its coordinator’s surname: we had just about every variety of western music. Young violinist Nigel Kennedy was one of the most novel performers, giving us a Bach interlude before tearing to the other end of the spectrum and into a devilish funk groove. There were also illuminating moments from popster turned jazzer Alison Moyet, who, backed by a full horn section, made up with spirit and sheer power for a few slips of pitch, and also from Helen Shapiro, who made an ideological defection similar to Moyet’s and turned a very capable hand to singing Ellington with Humph’s reliable septet. Two pianists of quite different persuasions were also full of tricks; Jools Holland, best known as presenter of The Tube, proved himself a convincing boogie pianist, though he was later upstaged by his ‘chorale’ which consisted of two storming female vocalists; and Stan Tracey offered altogether more cerebral but nonetheless satisfying reflections on various jazz piano styles. There were also fleeting glimpses of NYJO, Paraphernalia, Working Week, Marion Montgomery, John Patrick and Will Gaines.
The uncharitable might have called the evening ramshackle and questioned its jazz content, but there could be no doubt that those involved had, like the best jazzmen, been living by their wits for a good three hours. If Princess Diana had blushed, the shadows in the royal box had covered her embarrassment, and the only heads that rolled were those that were laughing.
