The music that can be heard on this page is King Porter Stomp by Ken Colyer's Jazzmen at The White Horse, Willesden, London, on 27th February 1964. Ken Colyer, trumpet; Sammy Rimington, clarinet; Geoff Cole, trombone; Pat Hawes, piano; Johnny Bastable, banjo; Ron Ward, bass; Pete Ridge, drums. Taken from Cadillac CD SGC 77CD 02 The Real Ken Colyer

A Conversation between Ken Colyer and a person unknown

This is part only of an interview recorded at Ken's home at 99 The Drive, Hounslow, Middlesex in the mid 1960s. Anyone knowing the whereabouts of the remainder of the interview or the name of the interviewer is requested to contact the Trust.

Interviewer: To start off with, let me ask you about your particular likes in jazz. So many people call you a straight purist and think that you like only New Orleans jazz; but you have proved this is not the case in your interviews and various articles. How broad are your likes, do you go as far as modern jazz, Charlie Parker, for example?
Ken Colyer: I'm not very much into modern styles. Parker, yes! There are always exceptions; you can't apply a blanket rule and say you dislike all modern music. To dismiss out of hand someone like Charlie Parker would be completely bigoted. He was definitely a great musician as evidenced from his recordings.
I: What do you look for in someone like him; can you define that certain "jazz feel"?
KC: It's just something you know instinctively the moment you hear it, and maybe the more so as a musician. As I said, I don't go along with a lot of the modern music; much of it is just too far out and too far removed from what I understand to be the essence of jazz. Something of the melody has to be there and discernible through the improvisations, and that just doesn't happen in much of the modern music. Once again, Parker is the exception. The essence of the tune is always there and his blues feeling was outstanding - that's vitally important - I'd say a necessity in any jazz form. As somebody once observed: in the hottest of New Orleans music there is always an undertone of the blues.
I: The blues feel is always apparent in your own playing and in your bands, whatever you happen to be playing, whereas many British jazz groups simply don't have that element.
KC: It's not always consciously done but, if you've got anything in you, that blues dimension will come through. There is also the popular misconception that the blues have to be slow and dreary; the blues can be played at just about any tempo if the feel is there. Some blues of course are better played slow. What isn't realized is just how difficult it is to get the whole band gelling on a really slow tune.
And it's not just with English players; it's a general problem. One of the old timers said the blues were played much slower in the early days than is generally common today. I think it has to be said, in general terms, that the black players had - and still have - an instinctive nous for slow playing; many of the white players have learned a lot but, in my view, that inescapable edge the black players have is always there. When a white player starts, he really has to consciously strive to achieve what the best of the black players have so damn naturally. And if you don't master that feel, it's impossible to relax and play the music properly.
I: That controlled relaxation is so apparent in your bands and completely missing from so many others.
KC: Relaxation is vitally important; you can't develop the proper tension without it. It seems a paradox, but it's so vital to proper playing. Without relaxation and tension you can't develop and build a tune with the correct phrasing and emphases; all too easily it becomes too frantic, too frenetic and I just can't stand that in bands - especially the worst of the trad players. So many of them are indistinguishable from one another...all blasting away at race-horse tempo. As has often been said, they're one-dimensional, surface players, playing at jazz rather than playing jazz.
I: So I suppose you're pretty glad the so-called boom is over?
KC: Yes in a way, because it did harm to those serious about the music. That kind of distortion of the truth isn't easily corrected. But in a sense I was able to go along with the tide whilst still going my own way - and I think a lot of the real fans of the music appreciated that; at least I hope so.
I: Do you find yourself worrying now about the state of the scene?
KC: Well, you have to face facts; things are not as good as they could be. I have always maintained that the jazz clubs are the important outlet for our kind of jazz, and stressed the importance of keeping a good, solid circuit in many areas of the country as possible. So many good clubs have gone by the wayside due to promoters having become little more than unscrupulous cowboys during the trad boom. Now that the big money isn't there anymore, clubs are closing. A lot of bands ealizing the importance of a good club network. We almost seem to be starting again from scratch to try to get various clubs re-opened, and again build up a good network with a solid jazz following - with less concern about the big money and Hooray Henry supporters.
I: Maybe the new Hornchurch Club is an example of what you're talking about. You played the first gig there; how did it go?
KC: It wasn't too bad. We shall have to see how it goes. If it does build up from that first night, that will be fine. I don't know how it went this week with Monty Sunshine; I haven't seen or spoken to him. I think they have slipped up with the advertising; our gig was in the Melody Maker but I don't think Monty's was. But you still have to rely to a significant extent on word of mouth; many people just don't see the adverts - even in Melody Maker. I'm constantly having to tell people - especially outside London - if you'd only take a look at the Melody Maker you'd know where the bands are.
I: What kind of atmosphere do you think a club should have – is Studio 51 the ideal?
KC: The 51 is a good model although it would be nice if it were a bit larger. You have three groups in a typical club: those who want to dance, those want to listen, and those who don't want anything because they will talk all the way through the music. You can essentially eliminate the talkers by playing in a concert hall, and maximize the attendance of those who do want to listen; although I must say I don't particularly like the concert atmosphere; it can be too sterile. I much prefer the intimacy of a good club where you can really build a rapport with the audience. At the end of the day, jazz is a club or dance hall music.
A certain amount of noise and movement and atmosphere goes along with the music. But it's also my experience that older people don't want to be in a poky little jazz club, milling with a much younger set; they are much more at home in a concert setting where they can thoroughly enjoy the music, and it's good up to a point because you get over the music to those older people who would otherwise hear you only rarely.
I: Have you had any offers to go back to Germany yet?
KC: Nothing at the moment. Up to a couple of years ago it used to be a regular thing - a yearly tour, you know, a week or ten days. But it's the old story: the managerial side goes to pot; there's nobody over there really organising things. For a few years the German Jazz Federation had things well organised with good concert tours, but that seems to have disappeared and there is no-one on the jazz side who's doing anything.
That's one snag with Germany...so many things seem to go wrong, no matter how you try to work it out; the unexpected is always happening there, and I've never known it to be any different.
I: There's that lovely story about the Hamburg concert which was recorded. I believe you had to go out and buy a guitar because they expected you to play skiffle, and you'd given up skiffle.
KC: Ah! That was in Switzerland....I tried to explain to the fella, but he wouldn't have it. He got me a guitar, he went and found a washboard; he was determined he was gonna have some skiffle music in the concert!
I: Why did you give up skiffle? Everyone assumed it was because it became popular, so you dropped it.
KC: That's not strictly true. Understand one thing: there's nothing wrong with a music being popular, as long as it becomes popular on its own terms. But when popularity's achieved by distorting the music to pander to mass taste, then the truth dies. There were one or two very personal reasons for giving it up. Another reason why I got a bit fed-up with it and eventually dropped it altogether: being a trumpet-player....it seemed to upset the working of the band. You get warmed up on the trumpet during a jazz set; then you put it down to do half-an-hour's skiffle, by the time you pick up your horn again it's cold and you've gotta start warming up your lip again and it can be unsettling and difficult. So, by dropping skiffle I was able to concentrate 100% on the trumpet, get the band swinging and keep it swinging.
But I'm seriously thinking about starting up again, because the stuff we play - very blues-based - consists essentially of the folk songs I like doing, and features quite a wide variety of material. Of course I've always been strongly influenced by Leadbelly and Woody Guthrie, and the blues singers. Having thought about it again, you can't always see things from the audience perspective; it probably doesn't bother them as much as you might think if the band is broken down for something different and then set up again. My intuitive feelings are not always right! And if our brand of skiffle is still popular with our audiences, then why not bring it back?
I: And of course when you were doing skiffle during the intervals of concerts, you didn't get much time off.
KC: Of course it's more work, but it does provide some contrast to the jazz and helps to illustrate something of the roots of the music.
I: I think you're right. I reckon most people who enjoy your jazz also enjoy your skiffle.
KC: Yeah, the one is a projection of the other or, as I said, an illustration of the roots.
I: How satisfied are you with the present band as compared with other bands you've led?
KC: Well, as I seem to be saying more and more these days, with New Orleans music - as really with any music - the importance is the moment it happens, the creative moments, the really good moments that occur when a group of men is really swinging, really driving it down. That's what's good. I can say that with every group I've had I've achieved this. I've always been able to get them to gel, to play together, admittedly under my dominance, but that's something you must have if you're to succeed. If a band doesn't have a leader with that ability to dominate and lead the whole thing musically, you just can't achieve that wonderful ensemble sound.
I: But surely some groups are better than others at responding to your requirements?
KC: Although you have an idea, you can't ever really know what's going on in a musician's mind or how he's feeling while he's playing. There can also be personality conflicts affecting the music that listeners are unaware of, it's just as well that they are! Fans suddenly see a man leave the band and it's "Oh! Why would he leave?" or "Why did you fire him? Best bloke you ever had on such-and such an instrument, it sounded marvellous!" That may seem true from the listener's perspective, but if things aren't working out internally, then changes happen.
It's true that I'm a stickler as far as the music's concerned. I can become unhappy over some fine points of a man's playing which aren't necessarily noticed by the average listener but vitally important to me; it's not as casual as it appears, you know. Underneath there's a very strict discipline governing how the music's to be played. But the musicians have to understand that discipline and respond voluntarily to what I want.
This group has been together long enough now that I can say it's as good as any of the bands I've led, definitely. I don't know if you've heard that latest record (Colyer's Pleasure, SOC 914) - it's out and about now - be interesting to see how it goes. It's going for only ten bob...I don't know how they're doing it, it's crazy, 'cos it's a full, top-quality 12 inch LP. I just hope they don't go bankrupt!
Laughter on both sides!
I: Which record would you recommend to someone who said to you "I've been to the jazz club quite often, but I still don't know what Ken is aiming at and what he is satisfied with”? Is there one record that represents the closest you've got to your ideals?
KC: It's difficult to pick one. I think some of the Decca sessions with Mac Duncan and Ian Wheeler and Colin perhaps stand out. Actually I don't play my own records all that much. It is very difficult because when you make a record it's almost impossible to listen to it objectively as an outsider can; as a musician you're all too conscious of imperfections..."I know that's not quite right”...”this could have been better” and so on. So you're not actually the best judge of your own product from the standpoint of how it's going to appeal in the market place. Sometimes, though, after a couple of years you put a record on and think "Well, I dunno, that doesn't sound so bad after all!"
Also the recording quality is, for me, very much a factor. For example, the sound quality on those Lansdowne sessions was so awful that I quit Columbia. It still grates on me when I hear those records. Of course it wasn't the band's fault; it was the engineers and producers.
I: Unfortunately that awful balance they achieved was what most of the pop trad bands wanted at that time for some unknown reason, but of course they applied it also to your band and it was not what you wanted.
KC: The problem was with Columbia. You'd record the stuff at Lansdowne and it sounds OK or as good as you can get it. But when the master tape gets into Columbia's hands, they muck it about before they master it onto record. They had absolutely no idea at Columbia of how a jazz band is supposed to sound - to them it's just all one noise - just a trad noise that they've got to try and level out so that our music sounds just the same as all the other bands...a very annoying thing! They spoiled some good music on those sessions.
I was talking to Dougie Richford the other day; he's a musician who knows. He'd happened to have heard This is the Blues, and said it was one of the best British jazz recordings he'd ever heard; he loved the music. I was so pleased to hear him say that - and maybe the recording quality was better than on the two previous albums - still not what I'd wanted, but Dougie's remarks pleased me a great deal.
So, going back to the current recording we were discussing, my disappointment with the Columbia sessions made me insist that the final product would have "The Band Sound", the way we sounded live! Not some bad studio distortion that messed my music about. Charlie Fox summed it up on the liner note when he said we'd captured "The New Orleans Bounce...the functional warmth of the music".
I: I believe you have a recording lined up for 77?
KC: Yeah, with Pat Hawes coming in on piano. I do hope it will turn out OK because...well...it seems to me that I've done everything wrong recording-wise over the past few years.
I: Wasn't there a recording made at The 51? Did anything ever come of that?
KC: No. We did do a test, a sort of experimental recording session there for Columbia, and some of the stuff wasn't bad - Pat was on that- and I did try to get the Columbia people back down there for an actual recording session, but nothing ever came of it. There was always some excuse; they were waiting for some new equipment or whatever.
It's very difficult recording down at the club; although Ian Wheeler had some excellent tapes, which I would have allowed to be issued had anybody been interested. I don't know whether he still has them, I hope he has!
I: Would you still allow them to be issued because if we're starting up this club thing, with the magazine, we'd like to have a record club, perhaps with our own label. Or are you under contract with anyone at present?
KC: I'm free now, and I'm actually trying to keep clear of commitments for the kind of thing you're talking about. And, I'd still like to see those tapes issued that Ian has or had. Yeah, bear this in mind as a real possibility. I did see Ian not too long ago, and I should imagine he's kept those recordings. I did say at the time "Don't destroy them!" Because there really was some excellent music on those tapes. And he knows they're good. I don't think the front-line sound was ever better captured on any of the recordings I've made.
I: Can we return to the subject of jazz other than the New Orleans style? Duke Ellington, for example.
KC: Ellington...Oh yeah! I caught the concert in Croydon on Wednesday. I do prefer the earlier stuff - which I suppose is natural for me - I know the bands so well from that much earlier period. Unfortunately Tricky Sam's not there anymore, nor some of the others associated with the early bands. And of course Duke's writing style has changed to some extent, the sound is bound to be a bit different, but the overall Ellington sound is still there. Fortunately he's got no boppers with him - and I feel the same way about Count Basie - the presence of boppers definitely detracts and doesn't help their kind of music. It sticks out like a sore thumb if somebody starts bopping within bands of that type. But some of the early magic was there in the Croydon show; Creole Love Call was lovely, for example.
I do like many of the big bands but almost always it's their early work I admire most. All too often these days the band seems to be there merely to provide a back-drop for soloists. That's what's so good about the earlier material: the whole band was playing, riffing, getting that wonderful ensemble sound. But there has to be room for improvisation, for expression, even within the confines of an inevitable amount of arrangement for big bands. You can have a skeletal arrangement - almost a head arrangement - and those guys in the Ellington band are just so good they seem to know instinctively what Duke wants and expects - almost uncanny in their ability to free-wheel within the written chart, and make it sound so polished...and I mean "polished" in a good sense. The Basie band comes across to me in the same way.
It's an astounding thing - and puzzles me no-end - men who should know better always seem to get the fame and stardom but know nothing about the music. Ted Heath is a good example; if he's running a big band he should know more about the big bands, but he doesn't, he gives the lie. The first time Basie came over here I was at the premier concert at The Royal Festival Hall; everybody who was anybody was there! Ted Heath was quoted there: He'd never heard Count Basie before! Now isn't that astonishing? He also said "We can't take jazz to America - we've got to give them something else; we can't compete with this". How about that? Our top big band leader to come out with a remark like that!
I: One thing I did notice about Ellington's concert was the tremendous use of mutes.
KC: Well, harking back again to the early players; think of Tricky Sam and Bubber and Cootie and their mute work. But it all stems from the New Orleans style; think about King Oliver's mute work. I've always used mutes of all kinds in my own bands - they're very important in helping get the light and shade, the dynamics you strive for. It's just as important as varying tempos in different tunes. In a small group especially you achieve colour variations with proper use of mutes. You can't achieve proper shading without using mutes to get the ideal sound. I've always striven for this; so many British bands go just for one level of sound - all too often at maximum volume - and that's an emptiness, a barren sound contrasted with real playing.
Another angle on using mutes; I've always maintained that jazz is a vocal music. Just as you vary the pitch, the level, the volume, the overall sound of your voice in speech, you have to strive for similar effects when you're playing. It's like a musical conversation between the instruments in the front line.
I: Is a certain degree of arrangement necessary before you go into a tune? It can't be completely made up on the spot, can it?
KC: Words like "improvisation" can get a little out of line. You can't expect jazz musicians to come up with something totally different, totally fresh, number after number, night after night. It just can't be done. People don't always realise that a lot of what we play now has been built up over the years; things that do happen spontaneously...if they're good and they work, you keep them in. But it really comes down to head arrangements. You have an outline - a skeleton - keep it fairly loose and leave room, leave chinks for spontaneity. The leader has to know the melody, the others have to know the chords and work with the leader. In some choruses I'll play the melody pretty straight, in others I'll play around it.
Bunk Johnson teaches a very important lesson in this regard. It's not exactly improvisation; more extemporisation - a kind of embellishment. But having said all that, you will never, never hear my band play the same tune exactly the same way twice. But if the man behind the gun - the leader - doesn't have the imagination to go for that degree of embellishment, then he doesn't play jazz, and that's where a lot of your trad from the so-called Boom comes from. It has nothing to do with jazz - it's an effect, a pastiche.
If you've got anything in you - and if you're thinking all the time (which you have to do), then every time you play a tune you'll find something just a little bit different to do with it, so the music never loses its interest for the real listener.
I: From the boom period, which do you think were the best British bands?
KC: It's very difficult to come up with a pat answer. Look at it this way, there were a lot of men capable of playing better stuff than they were playing at that time. It just seemed that everybody was after the one thing; hit parade status, fame - and usually at the expense of the music, which got compromised every which way. An exception was Acker, a very good clarinet player, otherwise I would not have had him in my band. But in a sense his publicity machine ran ahead of him and he may have got cornered into playing a more commercial music than his heart told him he should have been playing.
But it became big business for Acker; he's a pretty easy-going bloke and he went with the tide at the time. But Acker will always come back to the truth 'cos essentially he's a very good jazzman. His band actually never strayed that far - always played some sturdy jazz - and he's aware of that; he never slammed any doors behind him and can slip back into the music any time he chooses, provided he's in the right company. He did these other things with Leon Young but he always kept that string stuff separate from his jazz and there was never any confusion; two separate careers essentially.
But there's another angle; "musical conscience", you might call it - and I'm probably notorious in this respect - or hopefully famous for it! If everybody strayed from the path, even for a short time to cash-in, where would the music be? I've tried to be true to my original ideas; to develop my talent and my band's talent to the ultimate of my ability and just play this beautiful music. Others purported to have similar ideals in the early days, but how quickly they went out of the window when there was a buck to be made by distorting the truth. I'd like to think I've been an anchor; they use fancy phrases for me, like The Keeper of the Flame, but I think even the modernists understand that the New Orleans style is the Root Music. I'm not saying it's the be-all and end-all of jazz and that's all that should be played, because that's just not so; there's plenty of room for all the various styles of jazz, and much wonderful music has emerged from the different periods in which specific styles evolved and stages that jazz has gone through.
But I come back to the same point: although I like and enjoy other styles and forms of jazz, for me the essence and the root is the New Orleans style; at its best this music fulfills everything that I want from jazz and what I consider good in jazz. I personally don't need to step beyond or outside the idiom to find total fulfillment and endless scope for self-expression; and I sense that the men who gather around me to play feel that I'm on the right tack, together with my faithful flock!!
Laughs.
I: Have you ever been tempted to move into other styles with your own bands?
KC: No - absolutely not. As I said earlier, I've enjoyed sitting in with Alex Welsh 'cos I do enjoy that Chicago style. But I'd never consider playing that style in my own band. For me, if I'd started dabbling or experimenting with other styles I'd have lost my way, I'd have wound up nowhere. I might have become a very proficient, very clever instrumentalist, but jazz-wise that wouldn't have meant a thing, you know? You can't shift from one style to another just to show how bloody clever you are. My goal was and is to get as close as possible to the ultimate in New Orleans playing; there could be no deviating from that path.
At the risk of repeating myself, I can say everything I want to say within the New Orleans framework. That's not to say I'm one hundred percent there. I'm fully aware there are things to be achieved that we are not achieving right now; whether we ever will have the ability to get there one hundred percent I just don't know. Maybe it's expecting too much to have that aspiration. What's one hundred percent? Well, you just listen to the best of the Kid Ory records and the Jelly Roll Morton stuff, to George Lewis and Bunk Johnson and right there you have my ideals defined. That rhythmical accent the original bands achieved is so important and all too often we don't get that right in our bands - not as a unit, as a whole. Actually, New Orleans jazz is the most difficult music there is to play at its ultimate best.
So we may never get there. But even New Orleans musicians don't always agree with me. I was expounding these ideas to Kid Howard and he didn't seem to know what I was talking about! Laughter on both sides. Kid said to me, "You've got a great band now, what're you worried about? It sounds real fine".
I: But shouldn't it be the case that the originators of the music have that edge - that extra - almost without trying, while you are striving to achieve something you might never get? What would happen if you got the one hundred percent? Would you have anywhere to go then?
KC: Well, (chuckles) it's not like climbing a mountain. Once you're at the top, what can you do then? New Orleans music is a moving music; it doesn't stand still as long as there are creative players with the right empathy. I simply know there are aspects we are not achieving, but even if we did and I was able to say "Right...we're playing perfect New Orleans jazz!" That wouldn't be the end of the road because as long as you remain creative within the idiom, there's always something more to say through the music.
Some of the qualities I still strive for are intangible and very difficult to explain. And that's why it's so difficult...with musicians I've just about given up trying to articulate what extra I'm looking for and trying to achieve. If it's not in them, you're not gonna get it! If they don't get it for themselves...you can only guide a man...you can influence him to a tremendous degree by playing with him, as I've proved time and time again with the men I've had around me over the years. But in the end if they can't find it for themselves - if they just don't have that ability in them - you're hitting your head against a brick wall.
Don't misunderstand me, we can and do play a very good brand of music - of a pretty high order - even though you may not be achieving that elusive special enhancement that could make it the ultimate.
I: On Dippermouth Blues you seem always to play the trumpet choruses exactly as Oliver played them. Do you do this because you reckon it couldn't be played any better?
KC: It's difficult enough trying to play it like Oliver did. That is the only way to play that number, and the same goes for other classic performances of tunes that are so good you just have to play it the way it was done on the original recording. That's not copying, it's saluting. I've never been tempted to add anything of my own to that Oliver trio of choruses, particularly the muted choruses...I find it so difficult to play them well that there's no need to add anything; they're perfect the way he did them. If I can knock that solo out really well maybe one time in six, then I'm satisfied.
I: You did record that at least once, I recall. Were you satisfied with that?
KC: Yeah, I think that's pretty good...the Decca one.
I: You have been widely praised, quite rightly, for your approach to playing ragtime. Would you care to comment on your attitude to ragtime?
KC: You have to distinguish between authentic ragtime and lots of other very good tunes that are called rags but are actually played as jazz numbers, not in ragtime at all. They're what I call pseudo rags, written loosely in ragtime form but played as you would approach any jazz number. The authentic ragtime - based on the tunes of Joplin, Lamb and Marshall - they must be worked out and played as correctly as possible. That's the art of the music and, again, it's a very difficult music to play well. That's probably why there's so little ragtime played; very few bands are prepared to tackle ragtime.
If you play them within a small band setting, such as mine, there is very little scope for departure from the written piece, particularly as far as the lead is concerned. The other horns can free-wheel to some extent, but not the trumpet. Just as Bunk said, "Ragtime is good as written", not to be messed about.
I: I read somewhere that some New Orleanians thought This is Ragtime was your first record.
KC: Yeah, some did have that misconception. Professor Manuel Manetta told me he had not heard ragtime played that well for 40 years. He was really impressed by how well we had played those four tunes on the Decca EP. Charlie Love is a ragtime expert, or was in his prime; he liked the record very much - thought we'd made a very good job of it. I was pleased, of course!
I: You still play a good deal of march music. Why did the Omega break up; was it difficult to keep it going?
KC: Yeah - the various members of the band became spread far and wide so that it was virtually impossible to get them all together. When I did try it, it was a real headache. But that band did produce some wonderful parade music. The more that essential line-up played together, the better it became.
I: How good is the New Teao? That's hardly going at the moment is it?
KC: Well, another snag. We did that Daily Express thing at the Empire Pool, Wembley; the band did sound really good there, played very well. But parade music can fail mainly due to lack of experience on the part of men who just haven't played it enough. Being another facet of jazz music, once again it takes an intimate knowledge of the music if it's going to be played well. Mind, I still find it enjoyable even if it's a little bit ragged. Unless I can get a parade group together and rehearse weekly or fortnightly, it's not gonna happen. It's a shame because there's still room on the scene for a fine parade band.
I: Keith Smith and Barry Martyn seem to me to be the only two other bands playing good New Orleans jazz in Britain; would you agree?
KC: There are some OK bands having a go in various parts of the country, but you don't really get to hear them to make a proper assessment. There was a group we played with in Llanelli the other week; they're a Cardiff-based band and have been plodding along for years. They came up with some surprisingly good moments at that gig. They're not brilliant, only get a chance to play once a week, I think.
It's an odd thing, Wales has never been good jazz territory, I dunno why. Nothing has ever really built up in Wales and the same goes for the West Country. Bristol was good at times, when Acker was going strong, and before he came to London; but once you go further west, it's as dead as a doornail. I feel sorry for that Cardiff band, they're cut off from everything, and they're genuine, sincere blokes, completely unconcerned with trad popularity, sticking to their guns and trying to play an authentic New Orleans style. They'll keep playing because they want to, and there are similar outfits around, more than you'd realise. It's very important that there are these groups dotted all over the country. They're not deterred by the fact that they're operating only in a small way; there's a determination to try and play the music as best they can and keep it going.
As to Keith's and Barry's bands, they're both good. We more or less share the same ideas, and they each put their own interpretation on the music, which is as it should be. Keith is good...he's still young, still has a lot to learn, but if he goes the right way he's got a good chance of being a fine player and leader.
I: I myself sense that, while Keith and Barry are very good themselves, most of the rest of their bands aren't up to it technically.
KC: I do remember Barry had a clarinetist at one time, dunno if he's still in the band, but he didn't seem to know what he was doing half the time. Graham Patterson couldn't see it, "No, no, he's alright". I just didn't dig his style. He played very sparsely, could only play across the lines, unlike Sammy who's fluent constantly, hardly seems to take a breath! There's nothing wrong with simple music, but it's gotta be effective. Jim Holmes isn't a bad trumpeter but he's not strong melodicallyHe tends to come on too strong, hammer a few Kid Howard clichés and it's a bit too much at times, you know? But he's quite a nice trumpet player.
I: Returning to your likes, how about Brubeck?
KC: No, I don't get Brubeck at all. Actually I just don't bother with a lot of that music. It's not my kind of jazz so I really don't comment for or against it; indifference if you like. I do have to say that some of the modern jazz (so-called) does grate; it seems to violate every principle that I feel is important in jazz. I'd rather not listen to it all, leave well alone, you know?
I: What about Thelonious Monk?
KC: Ah, a very intriguing man! There's definitely something there - something behind his playing; he's a true individualist for sure and deserves to be studied and listened to. But to be honest I don't feel qualified to comment on a lot of the modern men, I so rarely hear them; don't buy the records; don't go out of my way to hear them. Take Mingus. I haven't listened to him but, from what I've heard and read, he's a musician deserving of respect. There was this club, apparently. During his gig he got exasperated with the audience and told them just what he thought of them - the great American public!! Apparently he got a round of applause when he'd finished, they took their medicine! I read about it in...I think the book is called The Jazz Word. It's very, very good, but that particular anecdote was reprinted in Melody Maker.
At this point they are examining some record sleeves...it's not clear what, but Ken says:
KC: Look at this: it's so annoying when they just waffle away when they could have said something more pertinent to the music or the musicians. The brass band LP (Marching to New Orleans - Ed) was especially irritating. I could've done that myself and done it better. In fact, I gave Brian Harvey some copy that I'd written myself from those Adelphi concerts we did - I don't know if you remember them, we did two featuring The Omega Brass Band, and I wrote all the notes for the programme. Well, I loaned him that stuff which he could've quoted, which I thought described what we were trying to do and why. But in the event he wrote a poor sleeve note; could've been much better.
I: I think one of the best was the one Bill wrote for that 77 LP. But then of course he has inside information - he was there, so in a sense the experiences were his just as much as they were yours.
KC: Yeah, Bill did a good job on that - I was very pleased with it.
I: Would you ever go back to New Orleans, do you think?
KC: I'd like to, naturally. You never know; life has its surprises but I can't see any possibilities of getting there in the near future.
I: I understand your book is about to come out: your letters from New Orleans and so forth?
KC: Yeah, I saw Ron Pratt up in Manchester a couple of weeks ago. He'd promised to write to me because it looks like they finally have a publisher; haven't heard yet though. There's to be a discography in it apparently; this fellow Brian Lilly who's over in the States at the moment has compiled one. Ron was in touch with Brian and got permission to use the discographical material in the book. It's pretty comprehensive from what I've seen; I helped him a bit, but he's dug up just about everything I've recorded right from John R T's things made on his disc-cutter.
I: Do you ever look back on those Crane River days and wonder why they had to go, or are you happier musically now?
KC: It's life. Things have to take their course; it's useless to have regrets and think what might've been or could've been. All those guys in The Cranes...we're all a bit more staid now, more experienced, and maybe the better for it. In the beginning we were all so hepped up, so intense - naturally - we were discovering the music together! For me it was just a wonderful revelation; but in hindsight I was probably in too much of a hurry to get it right and get on with it. Getting back to what I was saying earlier, I knew these "sounds" which I wanted us to produce. And we did a pretty good job, actually; but we just didn't have the ability, the exposure or the experience to progress as fast as I wanted us to.
That was essentially the crux of my personal disenchantment and feelings of unrest at the time. The Christie Brothers Stompers experience might have been short-lived - and maybe it was inevitable that it would be - but at its best it was a wonderful experience for all of us in that band and some really good music was produced.
I: How do you look back on those trumpet solos you did with John R T on guitar just before you went to New Orleans, I think? I've got them on tape.
KC: Well, they weren't done seriously, you know; just a bit of light relief from the band recordings. There was one on that 77 LP you mentioned, Muddy Ol' River, I think. I haven't heard the others since we made them. Funny thing: Peter Clayton liked that one track, didn't like the rest of it very much! That surprised me, 'cos he's not a New Orleans man at all.
I: Jim Lowe told me once you've got a tape of you playing with George Lewis' Band or Lewis playing with your band. Would you ever allow that to be released?
KC: George Lewis playing with us, yeah. Unfortunately there's only about 20 minutes of music, and it was done under difficult circumstances. If I were to use it, it seems to me that it wouldn't be fair to George unless I could pay him something, but it would be peanuts. Or maybe it wouldn't bother him now, I don't know; I could write and ask him for his permission (What's being discussed is the 1957 rehearsal prior to the Manchester Free Trade Hall concert).
But that annoyed me a bit, you know, that Manchester concert. Somebody recorded it when George was first over here in '57 playing with my band; some marvellous music. But it was a pirate thing. Under the terms of those exchanges you're not allowed to record at all, which actually is a lot of nonsense, but that's what they insist on. Although in another way I'm glad the bloke got it and got it so well; George is superb on that gig. There's some very good band stuff, but George is playing like a ten-year-old. Then they started peddling this thing around, selling acetates of it. Now somebody's making money out of it. They're not doing it as a labour of love; I mean if they're selling these acetates for 30 or 40 bob, somebody's making a nice bit of profit out of it, which isn't good enough because we're getting nothing and George is getting nothing.
I: When you were over in New Orleans, I believe you were offered a tour with George?
KC: Yeah, but for reasons everybody knows, I was unavailable! While I was sitting in with the Lewis band, they had this West Coast tour lined up. George had hinted that he wanted me, but he didn't know my circumstances, how I'd got to New Orleans or what might happen to me, and I didn't bother to explain to him; it was just such a kick meeting them and playing with them. At that time my eye was not on the future at all, just living for the moment. Nick Gabliano was George's manager at the time; he came and heard me playing with the band at Manny's Tavern and apparently he had the same idea for me to go on the West Coast tour. George was all for it.
It was a wonderful thought. Maybe if I'd known how the immigration business was working at that time. The McCarren-Walters Act had just come into force, nobody knew how it worked - they didn't know themselves or how someone in my circumstances might have been allowed to stay. Had I known I was about to be banged up, I could have skated off to San Fran and met the band there. I might have stayed on the loose indefinitely had it not been for this immigration business, might even have got out the country if I could've picked up a ship.
Colyer being too honest, I openly went to the Immigration Office. In the old days before the McCarthyism nonsense, if you were a seaman you could go to the officials, say you'd missed your ship, trying to find another one, they'd give you another two weeks until you shipped out. They didn't bother seamen at all. But the minute that Act came into force, they were picking up seamen indiscriminately and throwing them into the Parish Prison. Any that they could put on ships, they did but the others they deported, including yours truly! Unfortunately there were not many British ships in and out of New Orleans at that time.
I: What was it like, the Parish Prison?
KC: It was rough, man! A really rough joint. Actually, I read something a few months ago in the Saturday Evening Post, an article by this chap - I think he might be with BA - anyway he's not liked very much but he's trying to blow the lid off a lot of scams in New Orleans. Anyway, he put a decoy into the Parish Prison, some chap incarcerated as though he was a prisoner - it seems all hell broke loose when this man came out and told his story to the paper, what was going on and the way the place was being run. As a result, a lot of things were altered and a lot of heads rolled. So maybe it might be a bit better in there now! Hope I don't live to make any comparisons!!
I: Did you think the film West 11 was worth it?
KC: Oh yeah, of course. Any film is worth it, isn't it? They didn't give us much time but for the limited period we were on, we felt it was worthwhile. It didn't do us much good in terms of attracting an audience, but film is a tough game to get into anyway on any terms. It was pure luck that we got onto it, 'cos Michael Winner knew me from his Cambridge days when he was a student and remembered us playing there on many occasions. He'd always been a fan, wanted a jazz band in the film in a club scene, and immediately thought of me.
It's a shame they went to all that bother, and then didn't exploit it as well as they could have done. If only there were more producers wanting to use jazz in the way that was used, incorporating jazz into real life scenes, instead of the woeful depiction of jazz on film and television the way it is now. It seems nobody has the right idea, or any imagination of how to integrate jazz into other art forms; it runs to a bunch of blokes blowing and tapping their feet - well, really!!
I: What did you think of that Story of Trad which got a television airing with George Melly?
KC: That wasn't bad. Actually Melly saved it; it would have been terrible if it hadn't been for George. Stirling Moss came out with a few good comments - he knows his music. As to my remarks, they chopped them out when the thing got a network airing, so there you go! One of the blokes in that Cardiff band I was talking about remarked that I'd just started speaking and they cut the blooming sound. That's what you get for speaking your mind. That's why I don't worry about television; I've managed to get along without it. If your face and your attitudes don't fit, forget about it; which I was perfectly happy to do! 'Cos unless you're paying a manager to chase these phony producers, nothing's gonna happen. You don't just get picked on merit. We've survived well without the great god television.
I'm not saying I wouldn't like to do it if there were a sympathetic producer with the guts and imagination to understand and present jazz properly, and try to get something intelligent, which the music deserves. Maybe one day, there's always hope. But those producers: talk about a lot of sheep; whatever's popular at the moment. They pander to whatever is perceived public taste...instead of trying to break new ground. Radio has gone the same way...makes you sick! If the argument comes up as to why they are not using certain bands - and it's not only us, there are lots of good bands that don't get any air time - they can only talk about their high standards in the face of the lie of all the rubbish churned out day after day, week after week.
It's not a black list, but there is a list circulated among all the producers, and if your name's not on it, you're not gonna be approached.
I: Of course this is what's given you your reputation for not getting on well with people; the difficulties you've had with recording managers and producers, that sort of thing.
KC: It's not strictly true; it's true in the sense that I've often spoken my mind and I'd stick to whatever I've said - would withdraw nothing - all I'm doing is championing my music to try to make people understand what I'm for. The trouble is people tend to agree with you at the time even if they really don't, and that's unjustifiable. If you disagree with what I say, then have the guts to say so! I've never fought or argued with any producer. Back to Ted Heath: he has really blown his top sometimes with television and radio when it doesn't go his way; I guess he figures he's big enough to get away with it.
Lyttelton has several times criticized what's happening with jazz on radio and television, and Melly does it too in his clever way; George can be so good but you have to read between the lines.
I: It seems about once a year there's controversy in the music press; someone will write to Melody Maker and ask why Colyer hasn't had a pop record in the charts. Then there'll be a response to the effect that you'd no longer be a purist if you had a pop record.
KC: I've said it so many times; I have no problem with having a hit record provided it's my music in undiluted form that's making the grade. But I'm not about to do a pop/trad arrangement of The Teddy Bears' Picnic, when that would be misrepresenting my music. Why would I make fun of what I believe in just to sell records to people who have no understanding of what I'm striving for? Having said that, we've almost done it on occasion. They All Played Ragtime made the hit parade, so did Take This Hammer. I did Maryland as a single just to please that Lansdowne lot, but I'm glad that didn't make it. The music was OK but, God, what they did to the overall sound! To catch the public's ear with really good music is very, very difficult, and you need a lot of luck to make it happen.
But once you start making pop records for a mass market, you're caught in a trap because then everybody thinks that's what you do, and that's all they want to hear when they catch you live. Look at all those Kenny Ball records; jazz content nil! But I'm sure he doesn't give a damn; he's copped a lot o' loot so good luck to him. I like to make records, but only if the jazz is as good as I can make it. If it clicks with the great record-buying public, then fine, it'd be very nice, but the music's gotta be on my terms! If a record gets away, it's money for old rope, you've done the work. But with my music it's unlikely to happen. That's why my brand of skiffle didn't catch the mass ear; we couldn't make it bad enough!
Most people only want to hear bang, bang, bang; what Melly called the unrelenting chugging of trad. Your average listener or dancer simply can't appreciate counterpoint, contrapuntal harmony in the front line or that subtle shifting of beat and dynamics, light and shade. The general public mustn't strain their ear too much, they can't take it. Look at the current pop music - beat music so called - if you want proof of what I'm saying.
I: Brubeck was trying - with his Take Five - to show a little of the way toward complexity by using a 5-to-a-bar riff and it worked - gave him a hit record. Maybe he went just far enough so as not to lose the mass audience?
KC: Well, Bruce Turner had some interesting things to say about that; some of these modernists borrow an idea or two from the classical side and think they're being so clever or so complex. In actuality the classically trained guys could leave them standing if they chose to. Classically trained men work for years to attain a degree of ability and skill to aspire to a symphony orchestra; the abilities they acquire and expect of themselves make most of these so-called modernists look ridiculous. What you're alluding to is a gimmicky thing - it doesn't have much to do with jazz in my book; they're just dabbling to make themselves look clever; doesn't mean a thing.
Those kinds of experiments don't help to progress jazz in any way, won't lead to any kind of fruition or development of the music. I think a lot of them sense it themselves. They go out on a limb, find a dead end, then revert because they want to get swinging again. You see it all the time with some of these men.
I: What's your opinion, Ken, of the conventional wisdom of the history of New Orleans Jazz? There was this ruckus a while back, Brian Woolley (clarinet player from Nottingham) claiming that Buddy Bolden had never lived. He claims that the ODJB started it all.
KC: Well, you said it: conventional wisdom. Believe only half of what you read and then disregard 95% of that. I've read everything I could possibly lay my hands on about jazz over the years. Even if the musical evidence isn't there - there simply are no early records of Negro jazz to substantiate what is generally believed to be true - men before the ODJB were obviously creating and developing this music and it must have developed very quickly once it got away.
So it must have been Bolden - probably not in isolation; we're pretty sure there were other men contemporary with him - most unlikely the music was the brain-child of just one man. The frustration is there's so little known about Bolden, and that elusive wax cylinder has never been found! The absolute proof is missing, sure, but it must be more than a myth. I don't know why people like Brian Woolley - and that really surprises me; he's a good cat and I've played with him many times - can't go with the broadly accepted theory.
Joe Robichaux claims to have heard Bolden at Lincoln Park, but he was just a toddler at the time. He was honest about it; he said "I can't really remember...my daddy used to take me out to the Park when Bolden was playing there, but I don't remember the details or the sound except they were blowing up a storm”. Take Glenny - he was knocking on a bit, nearly 90 when he died, but he was an older man than Bolden and had worked with Bolden. He reckoned Bolden was the ultimate in power; louder than Armstrong with the microphone full on.
But look, think about it from a common sense perspective: it all worked out through the basic American folk root; the blues, the work songs, the spirituals from the plantations and churches. When instruments became available, that same folk root was converted to an instrumental form of the same music. How can people really believe that the ODJB picked up their horns and said "Right, we're gonna play a new music never heard before". And just played it? Nonsense! Who could accept such a preposterous notion? Jazz is the American Negro root...rock 'n' roll, R&B, beat, and whatever the current fad is - it all stemmed from jazz with consequent degradation of the music in the process.
The tape ends at this point although clearly there is more to this interview. If you have a copy of the missing section or know where it can be obtained, please contact the Trust as soon as possible.

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