This will mean nothing to you unless you love jazz, but Johnny Dankworth has died.
He was Sir John Dankworth, actually – one of the few who deserved that honour amongst the plethora of thieving bankers, big business graspers and political drones who diminish the value of the title.
He was one of the two or three greatest British jazz musicians in my lifetime; and his wife, Cleo Laine, an astonishing contralto, is perhaps
the greatest British jazz singer ever.I can even remember the room I was in when I heard her first-ever radio broadcast after she joined his orchestra. I was still at school, aged 16; and if my memory hasn’t failed me, so was she – 16, I mean, but not at school.
He was a wonderful musician. Tonight I feel somehow a little of my life is lost. Catch him on http://www.jazzonthetube.com/videos/sir-john-dankworth/sir-john-dankworth.html. You’ll see her too.
That’s rather selfish, isn’t it – I say a part of my life gone? We always mourn for ourselves, don’t we?
On a miserable, blustery winter's night in the early 1970s, I approached the house of a friend on Phillip Island, located at the southernmost tip of the Australian mainland, and heard the most glorious music wafting through the occasional lulls in the storm. I assumed my friend had his sound system blaring, but on entering I discovered it was none other than Cleo Laine and John Dankworth, in person. They'd been friends for years, it turned out.
It was the most surreal occasion, but one I'll always treasure.
You lucky man. I met Ronnie Scott and Tubby Hayes when I was young – but never those two.
I'd called to collect something, expecting to stay 5 minutes. Ended up enjoying a private concert for nearly 3 hours. Five adults and one toddler.
Same friend, a year later: rocked up to the front door, knocked loudly. Confronted by a wild-haired, bespectacled man with a beard and chess piece in hand. “Do you play chess?” he demanded. I replied that I didn't. “Well piss of then!” he snarled and slammed the door.
It was Rolf Harris. Bizarre.
I met him when I was 13, and just getting into my stride playing jazz piano. A really lovely bloke – very kind and encouraging.
I never met him or her or any other jazz greats or otherwise. Not my scene. I am moved by your tribute, though.