After a gap of six years, we headed to Ronnie Scott's for the second time in a month - this time to see American pianist Kenny Barron. We've seen him twice before - both times at Ronnie's. The first occasion was ten years ago, on my sixtieth birthday, and the second time was a couple of years later; based on those experiences it promised to be a good night. On this occasion, Barron was playing two shows in one evening, and - though in general I much prefer late shows - for practical reasons we were booked into the earlier 18.30 set.
A straightforward journey on the 15.12, a cab ride to Oxford Street and then a stroll down Dean Street, through Soho Square and onto Frith Street. There were only a couple of people ahead of us in the queue when we started waiting in the cold:
By 17.30, the queues for members and regular ticket holders stretched some way in both directions. Finally we made it inside to see the female maitre d', to find that, in spite of the large number of members who had been admitted before us 'regular' punters, we had been assigned our requested table. Happy bunnies:
A composite showing the view of the room to my left:
For the concert Amanda simply turns her chair through 180 degrees to get the same view as me.
Food - for Amanda, Gressingham duck breast, roasted root vegetables and prune sauce:
and absolutely no guesses here:
At 18.30, the band took to the stage. At 81, Barron is someone for whom the word "urbane" might have been created. He introduced his fellow musicians - Kiyoshi Kitagawa (Osaka) on bass and Jonathan Blake (Philadelphia) on drums, and then, throughout the gig, announced the title of each number and its composer. As expected, it was a stellar performance from three guys who have played together for decades and have almost telepathic sympathy for each other's playing. After three extended numbers, Kitagawa and Blake left the stage for a short break, while Barron played two solo pieces: the first, a tune called "The Mountain" by Abdullah Ibrahim, about which I have eulogised elsewhere in this blog; the second, a tribute to its composer.
One of the practical reasons that I am not keen on attending the early set of any "double header" is that when the first set finishes, you can be sure of two things: the venue will be interested only in getting the first set of customers out of the door and the house turned around to greet the customers for the second set, and the band will be in the Green Room resting and refreshing themselves. As a result, the chances of getting autographs or any other kind of engagement with the band will be effectively zero.
Even knowing all that, I had gone prepared with a small selection of CDs and my trusty Sharpie, so when Jonathan Blake realised that when it came to Barron's solo spot his only effective route off the stage took him past our table, I held up one of his albums - Homeward Bound - and he graciously signed it and shook my hand before continuing on to the bar at the rear:
As can be seen, the album is dedicated to "Ana Grace". Ana Grace Marquez-Greene was the six-year-old daughter of saxophonist Jimmy Greene and flautist Nelba Marquez-Greene; Ana Grace was killed in the 2012 mass shooting at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Blake had been on tour with Greene at the time of the shooting. He knew Ana Grace and would later say that "She had such a lively presence. So when I heard she’d been taken away, it affected me and I started writing this tune". Jimmy Greene was the saxophone player in the band for the Ron Carter concert we attended in Cadogan Hall during the London Jazz Festival in 2023.
After the superb solo interlude by Barron, Kitagawa and Blake rejoined him for the rest of the set. All too soon the gig was over and we gathered our things before heading out. As before, a stroll down Frith Street to Shaftesbury Avenue, where we hailed a cab within minutes, and thereby to St Pancras, where the station management have elected to celebrate the birth of Jesus with something inspired by the musical Wicked - which, in that it tells the story of The Witches of Oz, seems like adding insult to injury:
On the 21.35 home:
arriving at 22.45 to find, as is often the case for late returns, the car park barrier was already up and we were not charged for our stay - result!!
On the journey home I had reflected on the evening. In days gone by (as noted elsewhere in this blog) one of the downsides of a visit to Ronnie's was the number of customers who clearly attended for reasons other than appreciating the music. In previous visits we have observed groups of women who had been shopping and were keen to chat loudly while the gig was in progress, business colleagues who had sealed a big deal and were similarly keen to celebrate noisily two feet away from us while music was being played, a couple who appeared to be engaged in a face-sucking competition, a group of "Hooray Henries" who appeared to think that they were above the act of making a noise when they applauded and therefore AIR-MIMED the act of clapping, ensuring that their hands never actually met, and a well-oiled businessman who appeared to be trying to make advances to the retail consultant and broadcaster Mary Portas while she was sitting at the adjacent table with her (then) wife...
In other words, we had grown used to questionable behaviour and (as in the first two instances) I had become accustomed to (somewhat reluctantly) dealing with the offenders myself. During our two recent visits, then, it was hard to express the delight of sitting in an audience that was essentially silent while the band were playing; on this particular night, so engrossed were the other customers that one could almost literally have heard a pin drop during the quiet passages. I think that there are three equally important reasons for this change:
- When booking tickets for Ronnie Scott's, before confirming the purchase, one now has to tick a box to denote acceptance of a number of terms, which now include this:
- On each table there is now one of these small cards:
- The act is now introduced by a compere who stands at the front and who, before calling the musicians to the stage, reminds the audience of the need for quiet during the performance.
- Isfahan (Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington)
- Magic Dance (Kenny Barron)
- New York Attitude (Kenny Barron)
- The Mountain (Abdullah Ibrahim)
- Song for Abdullah (Kenny Barron)
- Canadian Sunset (Kenny Barron)
- Nightfall (Charlie Haden)
- Calypso (Kenny Barron)
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