“They’re a brass band that play jazz,” are words that make any sane jazz addict blanch in trepidation. But not me.
Idly reading the sleevenotes, I spotted Joe Meek was the recording engineer (at the time the real names on this record would have been Kenny Baker and John Lusher), and I wondered if Meek’s engineering talents had been praised by any contemporary magazines. (I strongly suspected not: the sound was a little brash for my liking.) To my surprise, I found a reference in Gramophone magazine’s archives. The reviewer – a certain C.F. – had this to say:
I also found what the reviewer said interesting because although it’s recorded in mono, at times it sounds like it’s in stereo. Is this even possible? Listen and you’ll see what I mean.
Idly reading the sleevenotes, I spotted Joe Meek was the recording engineer (at the time the real names on this record would have been Kenny Baker and John Lusher), and I wondered if Meek’s engineering talents had been praised by any contemporary magazines. (I strongly suspected not: the sound was a little brash for my liking.) To my surprise, I found a reference in Gramophone magazine’s archives. The reviewer – a certain C.F. – had this to say:
[T]his would still be quite an interesting LP were it not for the abrasive recording quality. Considering the great use that is made of heavy brass textures, there must have been strong arguments for issuing the LP in stereo; at the very least the mono recording should have been carried out with exceptional care. As it is, too many of the ensemble passages sound smudged and imprecise. There are even moments in Bell Bell Boogie and Honky Tonk Train Blues when one’s cars might as well be massaged with sandpaper.Ouch. “Abrasive.” “Smudged.” “Imprecise.” Poor Joe. Would he have read Gramophone, I wonder?
I also found what the reviewer said interesting because although it’s recorded in mono, at times it sounds like it’s in stereo. Is this even possible? Listen and you’ll see what I mean.
| Bell Bell Boogie (Calvi) | The introduction (a war of attrition between semibreves) gives us the heads-up that we’re in a world of fancy introductions. When the tune kicks in, it’s like classic call-and-response Basie with (literally) bells on. |
| Mack the Knife (Weill) | Compared to some of the timpani-driven excesses on other tracks, this is done very straight. Actually, for a brass band, they manage to find a nice balance of textures: you don’t notice the absence of saxes. |
| Marching Saints (L. Johnson) | It’s a relief to find that the band are allowed to let their hair down a bit here. The bouts of collective improvisation are so wonderful you wish they weren’t used so sparingly. |
| Road to Mandalay (Speaks) | Begins with a bit of bugle business, some twinkling exotica. Then the arranger seems to get bored with that, and cues the tune popularised by Sinatra. |
| Teddy Bears' Picnic (Brattan) | Tubas and trombones state the melody, answered by the trumpets. Most of it is done tutti (the solos are fairly unexciting, to be honest: all the ingenuity is in the arrangement). |
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