Jazz may have some rough edges (which it loves), but it’s a serious art so it ages gracefully. Dave McRae and Joy Yates were just that. An authentic link to an admired past, but one which we now seldom hear with such authenticity. In jazz, you become what you listen to, and that’s usually somewhere near the state of the art at the time that you are entering the field, so authentic representations of bop and Monk and that era are getting rarer as the era recedes. To my ears, Dave and Joy were wonderfully authentic in performing Bird and Diz and Monk and Lady Day. There was intensity along with a comfortable control of the medium and a decided pleasure in languishing behind the beat and so holding the band alive with tension. This was leadership with easy authority, all the while performing as entertainers as well as artists. For Dave, there was an comfort in toying with substitutions, moving through long, sustained eighth note lines then falling into descending chromatic chords or arpeggios or sixteenth note triplet chromaticism, seemingly rough or discarded, but really knowingly informed and played for the emotional strength. I heard the boppers in his playing, of course, but also the wiley and witty rhythmic games of Monk, and considerable Bill Evans exploration. I thought his stylish insights might end with the early ‘60s, but an original tune later in the night harked to later decades with echo-based effects and grooves over one chord with an oddly timed fill. Hamish mentioned how easy it was to play with Dave. I wasn’t surprised; he was clearly strong and authoritative despite the immense playfulness. Joy was somewhere in this vicinity, channelling Billie Holliday with the most soulful of singing, including a doleful blues of Billie’s that was unexpectedly added to the repertoire. Again, I could feel the presence of the jazz past, as a singer takes control, singing of tragedy and joy with jazz-era perceptiveness. For this was an era when jazz was popular music, an era of mid-century wars and depressions and racism: a time for languishing awareness, not feckless consumption. Joy had an arm-waving involvement, and sang with heartfelt simplicity: soulful rather than embellished, improvising with pitch and time rather than notes or substitutions.
Their support was no less capable. Lloyd Swanton played with often-closed eyes and concentration, reading the dots on several charts, and dropped into the most effective of solos at a wink from Dave. Clean and expressive lines and jazz solos that run up and down the fingerboard with clear expression and sharp intonation. I lost him a little in accompaniment given a low volume, but his solos were obvious in intent and beautifully precise. Hamish was similarly professional, reading charts, effecting feels with panache and dropping into solos and swapped fours on command. I particularly remember a latin solo played with hands, and more-so, fours swapped with Lloyd where the bass was a treasure of quotes, riffs, chords, plays on harmony and rhythm, and Hamish followed as a percussive echo. Very neat playing by highly experienced professionals. A look at the history of Dave and Joy just obviates why it was a great night. Between them they can boast residencies at Ronnie Scott’s, touring with Dizzy and Mingus and MJQ, supporting Art Blakey and Elvin Jones, dancing with Danny Richmond, fill-ins by Joe Sample, singing alongside Anita O’Dea, performing with Buddy Rich and Chet Baker and Gil Evans, appearing at Monterey with Ellington, recording with Allan Holdsworth … and more. Breathtaking! Lloyd and Hamish have a few names in their past, too, of course. It was a great night of music, but also of entertainment. Dave McRae (piano) led a trio with Lloyd Swanton (bass) and Hamish Stuart (drums) and Joy Yates (vocals) sang for half the night.
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