Larger than life - Memories of the Guv'nor (Part1) by Norrie Cox

Published in the Ken Colyer Trust Newsletter Autumn 2001

The music that can be heard on this page is The Happy Wanderer by The Ken Colyer Jazzmen, recorded at Eel Pie Island Hotel, Twickenham, West London on 30 May, 1957. Ken Colyer, trumpet; Mac Duncan, trombone; Ian Wheeler, clarinet; Johnny Bastable, banjo; Ron Ward, bass; Colin Bowden, drums. Taken from Ken Colyer Trust Double CD KCTCD 007, Ken Colyer Jazzmen Live at Eel Pie Island 1957, currently available from the Trust.

My first exposure to Ken Colyer's playing in the flesh was unforgettable. It was in December of 1951 during a first Christmas shopping trip to London, which afterward turned into a pretty regular occurrence. This was years before I owned an automobile. Gwen, my future wife and I, had travelled up by train from Brighton early morning. We shopped all day, mostly the window variety, since I was an indentured apprentice at the time and we were both saving hard to get married, had supper at Lyons Corner House on Oxford Street and then to 100 Oxford Street where the Christie Brother's Stompers were appearing. I remember being very anxious as I knew we would not be there in time for their opening and the last train left Victoria station at 11 p.m. and we would be travelling by tube because it would have been unthinkable to have paid for a taxi! Anyway, we walked from Lyons and hurried down the steps into the club with all of our Christmas purchases, luckily somewhat limited by our impecunious state, and into a wall of the most glorious music I had ever heard. I didn't at first recognise the tune as it was the verse to Bill Bailey and I just stood there transfixed as they swung into the chorus. Now I probably wouldn't cross the street to hear anyone's version of Bill Bailey but to this day I can still re-experience that wonderful moment by playing their version on the Esquire EP

I don't recall much else specific about the evening except that I was absolutely over awed by Ken's masterful lead and his wonderful use of mutes, particularly his old tin mug. I don't recall whether at this time he was using a metal Derby but at later sessions I always enjoyed the way he " coaxed " the notes out of the bell by waving the Derby to and fro. I don't recall anyone else on the revival scene being as expressive as Ken in his use of mutes. I remember that the two hours or so passed in what seemed like a flash and that we only made the train by a matter of minutes. I know that, had I been on my own, I would gladly have stayed till the end and travelled back on the first milk train out in the morning.

I saw Ken many times after that and got to know him on a " grunting " basis. I was not a good player in those days, but when we (The San Jacinto Jazzband) started playing the all night sessions at Club 51, he would always ask me to sit in for a couple of, sometimes even three! ! ! numbers. I so well remember the first occasion when completely out of the blue he signalled me to get my horn and join them. I only remember the terror of that first number; Just A Little While to Stay Here, in Ab, which at that time was not one of my strong keys. I was also in the process of changing from an Albert system clarinet to a Boehm under the mistaken notion that this would turn me into a great player. I somehow got through it, I believe New Iberia was the second tune that night. I guess, for all my screw ups, Ken recognised a germ of a New Orleans flowering, because he invited me to sit in several times after that, even though I never was in the same class as any of his regular players. It wasn't until twenty-five years later, when I finally studied with Dan Gilmore of the Waukesha Symphony that I finally unlearned all of my bad habits and became a passable player.

Now that I work with youngsters, passing on my knowledge of New Orleans ensemble music and observing how quickly they progress when suitably motivated, I so regret that I was self taught from the age of twenty and virtually wasted twenty five years of practise up until I bit the bullet and decided to take lessons. There are many other wonderful memories of those early days and, although we frequently went to hear other bands that played in the Brighton area none ever gave me the same degree of ecstasy that Ken always managed. Perhaps this would be a good spot to mention who " we " were. Up until 1956, when Gwen and I moved to Ashford, Middlesex, " we ", namely Les Wood, Mac Maconnochie and Geoff Spencer, were part of a small group of New Orleans afficionados all struggling to learn how to play like our heroes. In retrospect it seems ridiculous how partisan and narrow minded we were but at least I had two distinct personas. As a player I was as partisan as the best of them and would not openly support any other style of jazz except the Archaic style of Bunk, George, Jim et al. We would not for instance support Cy Laurie or Humph or any of the other fine bands because they based their styles on that of King Oliver and Jelly Roll Morton; and of course not Freddy Randall or Alex Welsh because, horror of horrors, they played Dixieland! However, we were often forced to listen to, and occasionally enjoy them when they happened to be sharing a concert with Ken. How I reconciled all this with my other alter ego as a record collector, is a great mystery. I focused my collecting on the original recordings of the great New Orleans pioneers and the recently discovered, so called archaic stylists such as George and Bunk. However, a Saturday afternoon ritual of visiting all the used record stores resulted in my adding all sorts of things that would have got me instantly disbarred from the " we " group.

As a musician I was ensconced in the revivalist genre of 1940's New Orleans, and very happy I might say, despite my appalling lack of musical ability. We were all convinced that the only way to learn was by trial and error and that, as we mistakenly believed, was how the New Orleans greats did it. It probably prevented us from ever becoming great musicians but it did preclude the possibility of us being tempted to stray out of the New Orleans fold. To this day I believe that any budding jazz player should concentrate first on his ear and improvisational training before worrying about developing a first rate technique or reading skills. Anyone can learn to read music and it can be done easily after learning to play by ear, whereas it is quite difficult to break away from the written note once one has become dependent on it.

Well, back to Ken and a few of the highlights that I can recall. Luckily I kept a diary of those early days; otherwise at this late date essential details would have blended with the fog of my almost continuous senior moment! In no particular order: The first time I ever spoke to Ken was in a pub just around the corner from the 51 Club. He did not exactly warm to me although he was quite civil. I don't remember my inane questions, which I'm sure he had heard many times before, but I was in total awe of him and could have carried on a normal conversation more easily with the Queen! I know other band members were there, and I know I was introduced by a mutual friend, but the only thing that sticks is that I was in the presence of someone larger than life. Much later I got to know him better but there was always his greatness in the way of a normal relationship. I'm sure it was largely born of my feelings of inferiority regarding my musical skills and not due in any way to his manner. He was definitely of the people and came to grips with his working class background much sooner than I!

In 1959 my group, the San Jacinto Jazz Band, were invited to play an all night session at his Club and did so several times after that and on a couple of occasions I gave him a ride home in the morning to his home in Feltham. On one occasion that is forever burned in my mind, I also had Keith Smith aboard who, on arrival at Ken's, a couple of hours after sun up, started to insist that we go out onto Hounslow Heath and have a blow. This was where we rehearsed the New Teao Brass Band and I don't suppose Keith was much more than 19 at the time. Anyway, Ken had slept most of the way back and to be woken up by this young upstart was just too much for him and the language of his refusal was something to marvel at. As he got out of the car and made his way to his front door, Keith also got out and shouted "The trouble with you Ken is you're just not keen!" Ken turned and I don't remember his exact words but it was something to the effect that Keith should call him when he got out of nappies! Delightful moment. Keith was as enthusiastic as they come but, at this point in his career, had a great deal to learn about human interactions.

In April of 1959, at a concert in Nuneaton, I spent half an hour with Ken and was real surprised to find that he was really quite a friendly sort when he felt he could trust you. We talked mainly about the headaches of running a band, and another surprise was to find out that he went through the exact same highs and lows that I did and had the self same thoughts on occasion of chucking the whole thing in. Of course he was a professional musician while I was just a "hobby musician." But it was after this conversation that he invited The San Jacinto to play an intermission at an upcoming 51 Club session. This was also the first time I sat in with Ken as described above.

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