On Winter, Jazz and Peanuts

So, did you catch this gem of an article in the Guardian last week? If you haven’t already, please take the time to read it—it’s lovely. I found it rather poignant that it appeared out of the blue at the time that it did too, because just days earlier I had been caught up in thought about Charlie Brown as well. Let me explain…

I’m not sure where you might be reading this from as we find ourselves nearing the end of October (*waves hello to family in Florida!*), but here in London, winter is upon us. Now for others that might signal mulled wine and hot cocoa drinking, cozy socks in bed, or warm nights by the fire, but for me it means jazz. No, I’m not talking razzle dazzle Fosse hands and a cardio-tastic class at Danceworks, but sultry, smooth, syncopated, bebopping, bass thumping, brass heavy, ivory trickling, dusting of the drums or crooningly-sung… jazz. ahhh.

Duke Jordan – No Problem (from Flight into Denmark)

Mornings are another matter, but by the time the sun dips down out of sight and I step out from the office into the crisp night air, there’s simply no other soundtrack for my evening. Bill Evans, Sinatra, Chet Baker, Blossom Dearie, Duke Jordan and Joe Henderson have been just a few of my companions over the past weeks. Is there any more perfect variety of sound for these short days and dark nights? For me there’s not anyway.

Which got me thinking, why??

…and then it dawned on me. My whole initiation into the world of jazz happened rather subconsciously at a very young and impressionable age by way of the Vince Guaraldi Trio. Every year without fail, as far back as my memory stretches, it wasn’t properly Christmas until we had cozied up with our favourite Charlie Brown. By the time I got to my late teens, just the first strains of Guaraldi’s Greensleeves would trigger my Pavlov’s dog reflex and warm fuzzy thoughts of the season, family, togetherness were just a few bars away. It would seem that this reflex of mine has now transmuted into some sort of reverse, and as the first chilling breezes of winter conjure thoughts of slower, cozy nights in with loved ones, a switch inside me is triggered and a deep and insatiable craving for jazz takes over. Which I am, of course, more than happy to indulge.

So thank heavens that the London Jazz Festival kicks of in just over two weeks! This has got to be one of the most amazingly rich and diverse productions London has to offer, and it’s definitely my constant favourite festival of the year (well, excluding maybe this one). With a range of between 15 and 40 concerts and events happening PER DAY of the ten day feast and many of those being free or ridiculously cheap, there’s simply no excuse not to take part. And by all means, don’t be intimidated by the scale of it. Sure there will always be the heavy-hitters like (this year) Herbie Hancock and Paolo Conte but the real joy of this festival is in taking a chance on some of the smaller acts that you’ve perhaps heard little or nothing of before. Last year I caught both the fantastic super gig of Chick Corea with Bela Fleck at the Barbican and the opening night of the as-yet unfamiliar (to me) Stefano Bollani residency at Kings Place. I had a bloody great time at them both, but the one that blew open my thoughts and joys and is forever imprinted on my mind is the latter, without a doubt. (hint, hint: you’re going to want to spend some time with this beauty or better yet, catch Bollani live).

Still need some guidance though you say? Perhaps you might consider starting with Soweto Kinch’s free and excellent-looking exploration into the history of jazz on day 2 of the festival, Sat 13th November at the Royal Festival Hall: Way In To the Way Out.

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To do:
Put the albums I’ve recommended at right into your playlist, pronto! And do I have to remind you again to read this article?