Tonight they play mostly standards and the music swings and burns and twists and flies.
The band is Gilad on saxes, Tim Lapthorn on piano, Matt Hodgson on double bass, and Matt Skelton on drums, and the playing is funky and fiery, full of punch and energy. The lines that come out of Gilad’s Selmer alto are the lines of a master in complete command of his instrument.
And it’s absolutely marvellous to see such an accomplished group in a small room that holds 60 people.
It’s a gig that came out of the blue on Tuesday afternoon when my mate Chris said he’d checked the website of his friend Gilad, who is doing his huge Orient House Ensemble Refugee Tour at the moment. This was a local gig with a different band playing for one night only.
The place was called 268 when it was an after-hours basement bar, an underground drinking den favoured by CID officers, musicians, roadies and bouncers. It was where you go to relax after your gig and it looked like a flat, just a door with 268 on it. But now it has a sign and a music license and an entertainment license and it’s comfortable and has comedy on Wednesday nights, jazz on Tuesdays, and so on.
All the seats are taken when we arrive, apart from two high stools at the back, by the bar, which we grab. One of the organisers, a guy in a leather jacket, tells us that the sound balance will be good because of the way the piano is miked up. He says, “It’s a Damon that I bought for eight hundred quid. My dad’s a jazz pianist and he tried it out for me.”
Gilad Atzmon is a witty entertainer as well as a creative, invigorating jazz maestro. Introducing the band, he says, of Skelton, “Matt was my first drummer when I came to England 13 years ago. I said : keep practicing…and I’ll see you in 13 years.”
I’m sitting in the back corner with my left elbow on a shelf, just grooving on the music and remembering previous jazz gigs, sometimes with my eyes closed, sometimes watching the hammers of the open-fronted piano hitting the strings in clusters, as they do.
The first set ends soon after the arrival of another of Chris’s mates, Aaron Barschak, the bearded comedian who gatecrashed Prince William’s 21st birthday party at Windsor Castle in 2003.
In the interval I chat to the same guy about Roland Kirk and The Faces, and he says Small Faces organist Ian MacLagen nicked his girlfriend at Aylestone School in Kensal Rise, Anthea Sergeant.
“We used to win all the dance contests,” he recalls. ” She became a dancer on Ready Steady Go, the first one to dance in a cage.”
When the band come back for the second set at 11.15, Gilad bends down to speak into the microphone he’s been blowing his sax into.
“We’ve had a request for some of our Middle Eastern music…..”
There are shouts of “Yeah !” and “Right on !”
Gilad says, “So we’re gonna play a number by probably the best Saudi composer -“
“Bin Laden !” says Aaron.
“That’s right ! This is a post-911 tune called…..In a Suicidal Mood.”
The music is hard bop, the drums sound fantastic, the bassist throbs and pulses without showing off, the area of sweat on the pianist’s back expands to cover his black shirt, so that only his sleeves and hip are dry, and the second set climaxes with Salt Peanuts and Moanin’, tunes made famous by Charlie Parker and Cannonball Adderley.The gig goes down very well and everybody’s happy and most are aware that it’s been a privilege to be here tonight.
“Gilad wants to share a cab,” says Chris.
“Does he live near us?” I reply, stupidly.
Chris mentions a road not far away.
After some hugs and goodbyes we go out on the street and the doorman orders us a minicab on his mobile and there’s some chit-chat and Jewish jokes between Aaron and Gilad and the cab comes and the saxophone cases go in the boot and Chris and I dive in the back and Gilad gets in the front with the driver and directs him down Mill Lane. Partly to the driver, Gilad says, “People think my accent is Kensal Rise, but it’s Cricklewood.”
We talk about Ian Dury, with whom Gilad worked, and then we drop him off, and then Chris drops me off at 12.45. It’s been a fun evening, a bonus night out made better by having no period of anticipation.
Even before Tuesday night, Gilad Atzmon was one of my favourite people. I’d only seen him play once before. He’s a phenomenal musician and it was a huge treat to see him play in such an intimate venue. He has a quality of belligerent bonhomie which is very engaging. Hot, passionate, big-hearted, super-bright, a great spirit, very funny onstage and off it, and I love people like that. He’s a volcano. He’s a tonic. He’s inspiring. And that’s great for me because I’ve been lacking inspiration lately.
Next day Jan tells me that Aylestone was a failing school that was closed and re-opened as QPCS – Queens Park Community School, with new buildings. It’s a pretty good school now, I hear.
The son of a friend of mine was kicking a football around at QPCS one morning last year when the tornado hit Kensal Rise. He saw this black thing drop out of the sky and come towards him, so he did what any 16-year old boy would have done. He whipped out his phone and took a photo of it. Then the tornado slammed him against a high chainmail fence. The lad wasn’t hurt but his jeans were ripped. He was interviewed by ITV News.