Hi there, pop fans!
Smile, smile, smile
It's all over
I have got the furious needle
The recent advent of first and second class mail has led me to wondering what effect such a move would have on musicians should they decide to grade themselves likewise. I mean first and second class musicianship intentionally, not the way it is now.
You are booked as a first class musician, so you turn up well on time, play no wrong notes and behave impeccably. As a second class musician, you turn up when you like, goof away all evening and get drunk and spew over the customers. Bookers and agents have to stipulate very carefully what class of musicianship they require—and pay accordingly. With writing, it will be possible to turn out a second–class symphony, or a first–class pop song.
Any musician. contravening the requirements—playing first–class jazz at a second–class session, or vice versa—will automatically be banished to the Land Of A Thousand Tone Holes by the MU, and not allowed out until he mends his ways. But I suspect that the second–class musician would still be worked to death–as ever!
Pop goes a million
As I was saying to my butler only the other day: “For goodness sake change the table cloth, Mahatma–I’ve read it!”
No name jive
Apart from the inference that the shots were filmed at the club and the over–plugging of the Americans featured. I thought it a first–class jazz documentary. We could do with regular films like this. It was both informative and entertaining.
The link–ups from Ronnie’s team into the filmed concerts were executed with great skill and artistry and must have been the work of Stan Tracey. The balance between the music and the chat must have pleased all but the most anti–jazz people.
But the names of the guys who have thumped their hearts out over the years providing a first–class rhythm section for most of the visitors were not to he heard. The work these musicians have done is no mean feat, when you consider the prima donna temperaments of some of the stars. Whoever is to blame for the omission of these names should be forced to shout them from the roof of the club non–stop for a month.
Even if the British Broadcasting Corporation doesn’t approve of promoting British, at least it could mention the names of the musicians without which such a venture could never have happened.
Buying a pup
I don’t doubt for one minute the sincerity of all concerned, but when you buy something, you do so in good faith. May I suggest that the BBC gets itself some talented buyers?
Copyright © 1968, Kenny Graham. All Rights Reserved