Ronnie Scott's

 Ronnie Scott's

When Ronnie Scott was wandering around the West End streets of  London back in 1959 he must have thought his world was about to change dramatically. He may well have stopped for a minute, paused for breath and gazed at the huge potentialities around him. Scott was already establishing himself as one of the most accomplished jazz musicians Britain had produced up until that point. The hugely respected jazz community would come to hold Scott in the highest esteem throughout the early 1960s, late 1960s, the 1970s, 1980s, 1990s and up to the moment he sadly passed away a couple of years ago. 

But back in the late 1950s when Soho was already jumping, jiving, rocking and rolling to the vibrantly productive years that would provide a fertile breeding ground for the likes of both Scott and his contemporaries, Scott would launch one of the most richly relaxing, laid back jazz clubs that London would ever know and see. It would also give a rock solid platform for the legendary greats of Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Oscar Peterson, John Coltrane, Johnny Dankworth, Cleo Laine and the late Tubby Hayes, who on Sunday the Simon Spillett quartet paid tribute to with some of the sweetest jazz in London town. 

My wife, daughter and yours truly were enormously privileged to be a part of and witness to the stunningly  evocative sounds of the late, great Hayes. Some of us had never heard of Tubby Hayes but by the end of a polished two hour set which began at lunchtime we were all hooked. We were tapping our fingers on the table in front of us and nodding our heads deferentially to a master blaster of the saxophone. It was late night music, early evening twilight music, the kind of music you normally listen to when the kids are in bed, everything is quiet, the moments are deeply reflective and the coffee pot is on.

In America jazz has been the dominant sound for as long as anybody can remember. There were the blown cheeks of Louis Armstrong and the aforementioned Dizzy Gillespie, trumpeters and trombonists of the highest calibre. Gillespie had been one of the greatest of all jazz musicians and when Stevie Wonder asked him to play the trumpet on one of his albums, the world of jazz reached Olympian heights of excellence. But we were there on Sunday to acknowledge this sultry, soulful saxophonist. Hayes was, as Simon Spillett pointed out in his introductions, a larger than life, extrovert and colourful figure with a wicked sense of humour and just a hint of irreverence thrown in for good measure. 

Most of the songs performed on Sunday were completely unknown to any of us but we were given a detailed and amusing account of Hayes career. Hayes had been recording albums at a fair lick during the 1960s without being prolific as such. Of course he travelled to New York, Tennessee, the jazz capital with its overtones of Dixieland and all points of the global compass. There were the periods of eccentricity when he revelled in playful compositions and titles of songs that were both bawdy and raunchy. 

But some of us were of course delighted to be back in the world of live music and so was Simon Spillett and his quartet. Ronnie Scott's was jam packed with the connoisseurs and aficionados. huge rows of seats and tables and an photographic gallery of the great and good. You couldn't help but notice the great Ella Fitzgerald and all of the other jazz singers and stylists who had passed through the hallowed doors of Ronnie Scott's.

Finally Ronnie Scott's came out of Covid 19 hibernation in July and yesterday it felt good to be back again among the people who have always loved and hung on every note, quaver, crotchet, reedy blast on the sax. It has to be said that the Simon Spillett quarter were magnificent and lived up to all your expectations. This was jazz at its most languidly elegant, a soothing antidote to all of the troubles that may have been left behind during the coronavirus. It was jazz that had smoothness, a vintage sophistication, and contrasting moods that left you feeling as though Sunday lunchtimes would always be that appropriate moment to just chill out and become absorbed in the beauty of the piano and the saxophone. 

On drums was the brilliant Pete Cater, a spectacular exponent of his craft, all fast and frenetic stick work that was a pleasure to watch. And then there was the breathtaking Rob Barron, a pianist whose fingers glided nonchalantly and balletically across the keyboard as if he'd been doing it for all of his life.  On the double bass the son of the great and late |Jonny Dankworth Alec was plucking his double bass for all its worth. There was a moment when you felt Dankworth was totally immersed in the moment, face wreathed in intense concentration. 

So we finished off our drinks, looking back all the while at those old fashioned orange glowing lamps on the tables, the people tucking into their Sunday roasts, the contemplative ones who were probably thinking back to the golden age of jazz if such a period ever existed. The truth is of course that jazz will never die, a musical genre that will always be celebrated grandly wherever pianos, saxophones and double basses are played. Wherever you are Ronnie Scott we salute you sir. Frith Street, the home of Ronnie Scott's, Greek and Dean Street can still hear you.