Bloomsbury

It was a wet Saturday after a brilliant run of weather, so a day to go inside. So I thought. So did others. I ambled off in light rain, through a packed tube, across wet roads, through a quiet Bloomsbury park, to the British Museum. Bad choice. I’d never seen it like this. It’s a place of incredible history and treasures collected through empire and wealth with at least some limited justification that it’s well preserved and free but everyone knows that and everyone was there that day. I managed a stroll and came across the Portland vase which has haunted me since my last visit. I am intrigued by technology that’s been unexpectedly around for yonks and that the modern world reinvents. One is the safety pin which the Etruscans and others had as the fibula but won a patent as the safety pin in the US in the C19th. This day I discovered another: the Romans had pocket (=small, folding) knives. See one pic here. It’s not surprising really. They were clever and that technology is easily within their capabilities. There’s lots of fabulous gold and metals and rock and ceramics, of course, because they last. But I am also intrigued by leather and clothing and the like that usually doesn’t. The Cairo museum has a loaf of bread! Sandals are not too common but intriguing. Again, a pic or two. So I caught a few stunning pieces but was glad to escape.

The British Museum is in London.

Comfort in beauty

If Voronoi was something new and perhaps unsettling, Entropi was a deeply pleasurable visit to a past love. I think of Norman Connors and the album Love from the Sun, a 70s masterpiece with stellar names (Herbie Hancock, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Eddie Henderson, Gary Bartz, Carlos Garnett, Hubert Laws, Onaje Allan Gumbs, Buster Williams, Bill Summers, Kenneth Nash, Nathan Rubin, Terry Adams). This was at the time of dissention over Miles’ electronics in Bitches Brew. NC went on to play disco and was lost to jazz, but this was deserving and somewhat remembered work (I heard a cover of the title track amongst the on-board music flying to London only a week or so ago!). So it was a great pleasure to hear Entropi. It’s a classic combination: two horns out front with piano trio, but working lusciously together with some very satisfying compositions (from leader Dee on alto), openness to meld together and move through solos and features, some lovely dissemblement mostly led, to my ears, by plays between bassist Olie and easily-atonal pianist Rebecca with nicely gentle and modest but satisfying drumming from Matt. The two front liners sat together well, too, in heads and such but also I noticed some simultaneous solos that spoke different dialogues but communicated with real purpose. Loved that! It was a restrained and understated band but that’s how this style is, serious (as your life) and purposeful but not showy. And one point of interest, two women in five players. I’ve heard much about few women in music, including jazz, but my experience over the years is that there have been no women to play with. This was two women, both essential to the band, one the leader, the other the essential harmonist and a beautifully stated but discrete band. This is society as I like to see it. Congrats to the band and a pleasure.

Entropi performed at Vortex Jazz Club, Dalston, London. They comprised Dee Byrne (alto, compositions), Andre Canniere (trumpet), Rebecca Nash (keyboard), Olie Brice (bass) and Matt Fisher (drums).

New hearings

Cafe Oto had ended unexpectedly early so Vortex beckoned. Vortex is another interesting jazz venue located just around the corner, small, upstairs. This was a Match & Fuse late session, meaning 2 bands of some similarity influencing each other. To some degree this is a frightening concept for a band (jazz can be competitive) but it’s great for an audience. First up was a strangely named keyboard trio from Leeds, Voronoi. Jazz trained at a local school, graduated 4 years ago, now teaching and playing. Their spiel was “started out by straddling contemporary jazz and heavy metal ... now a brutally dark, synth driven, sci-fi themed experimental rock goliath.” It fits. I loved this band. I really felt something new and fresh here although that may just related to my listening. That is despite references to an old fave of mine, Yes. It was the fairly straight sense of harmony mixed with tight hits from bass and rich fills from drums and various polyrhythms and odd and changing time signatures underlying it all. There were solos but they not so much essential to the concept. The synths tones were. Strange name, exciting new sounds. I loved this band, but I’m a sucker for certain but unexpected times. I did ask bassist Sam what they listened to: Tigran Hamasyan.

Voronoi performed at Vortex Jazz Club, Dalston, London. They comprised Aleks Podraza (keyboards), Sam Quintana (bass) and Tom Higham (drums).

Beating distractions

I was seriously distracted leading up to Peter Brotzmann at Cafe Oto. I was getting emails from Facebook telling me of logins to my account in Syria, I would log that access out but then I’d get another signin. It went on like this for, perhaps, 10 logins. I needed to change passwords but that required my PW and I didn’t have it with me. I got into settings, closed off some rights and sent a message to FB to suspend my account. Ten minutes later I got an email giving me direct access to change my PW. I did and the Syrian access stopped. Huge relief but it had interfered with the start of PB’s band. And that was full on, from the first notes. They were called Full Blast and they did. Just a sax trio: Peter with Marino Pliakas and Michael Wertmueller, bass and drums. I was sitting next to a bloke who had come from Cardif Wales for the night to hear them (he was going back after the gig, 3 hours by train). His description was ‘all the music you’ve ever heard played at once’. I guess it fitted. Certainly it was intense and loud. They were recording so presumably in good form, although Peter apologised for a short second set given his health. That was enough and that was a great pleasure, if that’s the word to use for a barrage interspersed with some lovely tonality. The barrage was drums with arms flailing and double kick pedal (very heavy- or metal-rock styled, I thought: quick and proficient and sweaty). Bass all chromatics up and down the neck, some regularity in that movement, some chordal plucking, some pick and hitting strings with a slide but mostly five-fingered, thumb and fingers, all repeated fast fast, occasionally with Morley pedal for volume not wah on the night. Marino had a few distortion pedals set up but he told me hadn’t used them. And Peter himself, variously on tenor and soprano, powered and unrelenting, mostly in few-bar bursts that spelt melody mutating with each burst. Sometimes some calmness that sat and spoke of melody, perhaps tradition or beauty, often against bass or no accompaniment or something gentler on drums. Then maybe to drop out leaving intense duos. One tune suggested head and development to me. Bassist Marino later disabused me of that conception. There were no charts, no preparation beyond 30 years playing together. So it went for two sets. Rabidly loud and reduced and unrelenting except when it did relent, and fast. I’d forgotten my scary FB problem (still fixed next day) and Peter had apologised for an earlier finish. But I left deeply satisfied.

PS. A few items to note. Cafe Oto is spelled with one -t-. Take care. It’s in a fascinating, alive, multicultural, poorer, northern area of London and a longish travel. It’s worth it. It’s obviously an arty area with a theatre next door and Vortex Jazz Club close by. No need to dress. And this was a heavily blokey event. Perhaps free/experimental is like that. Whatever, there were perhaps a hundred men and a decade of women. And pretty mature men at that. I guess that’s that scene. Peter told me he’d visited Australia ~6 months before (Melb/Syd) and that he’d played in Canberra 25 years before, unsuccessfully, with a promoter who thought all jazz was dixie.

Full Blast performed at Cafe Oto in Dalston, London. FB comprised Peter Brotzmann (tenor, soprano), Marino Pliakas (bass) and Michael Wertmueller (drums).

Paparazzing

This was an amusing one. I was walking around the Royal Albert Hall, looking for the Royal College of Music. I soon learned that their museum was closed for renovation. It’s a huge collection, very likely something special (not least, they hold the first guitar!), so something to keep for another time. In the meantime, I passed some photographers with impressive cameras obviously loitering near an usher and a car so I asked who’s inside. I was told a wedding for a couple that had just today, on commercial TV, won a celebration at Albert Hall. Reality TV? Just today? It seems impossible but certainly there was a wedding and I chatted with some family and friends all doled up with fascinators and tails and the like and there was a photographer and assistant and tripods and lighting readied on the steps. So I loitered too for some shots. Weddings are happy events although this largely passed unrecognised by musos outside RCM. It’s all an odd interpolation but this is a big city so not unlikely. Some pics ...

Not the Mousetrap

It was a late choice and a cost-aware one and it was nothing like the popular image of London theatre. The show as called Dust, a one-woman show and an award-winning drama from the Edinburgh Fringe 2017. The topic was suicide and the presentation was appropriately sparse and passionate with some minor humour and some liberal language. That doesn’t disturb me but it did surprise me, here near the Horse Guards (but opposite McDonalds and a string of tourist eateries). The theatre was a very small box within Trafalgar Studios with seating in the round and just a stainless steal autopsy table as a prop. Milly Thomas was just dressed in a skin-tight faun body suit. There were about 120 seats in three rows in a C-pattern. Milly played a young woman with a history of depression, but also dropped into other characters - her best friend, her Mum and Dad, her ex-lover telling stories and portraying characters and outcomes - all in the context of her suicide, of course, and how it came to be. Heavy, with just a few awkward chuckles. It worked well. We investigated a difficult topic that is otherwise kept shadowy. We’re told that suicide is little reported to avoided copy-catting. The stats (from what I’ve read/heard in Australia) are surprisingly high this early-adult age group (especially for males and also for older males). Milly ended the show with a talk to the audience calling for more openness and for donations for a relevant charity. She did a commendable job moving easily and sometimes abruptly through characters and situations with the little props and some effective music. Interestingly, also with some heavy echo on her voice for some passages. I wondered how she’s done that. So, some London theatre, certainly not Mary Poppins or even the Mousetrap. Worthy and socially relevant and convincing.

Milly Thomas wrote and appeared in Dust at the Trafalgar Studio in London. Sara Joyce directed.

Doing scitech

I’m actually a science buff but my experience with the local science museums in London is dismal. So this day it was the Natural history Museum and more. The NHM is a gloriously impressive building and known for that. The entrance was designed by JW Waterhouse. Otherwise it features numerous carvings and ruddy coloured bands reminiscent of Italian architecture. But the collection is the thing. I visited the treasures, mostly records from great colonial scientists with some extinct species. Also the geological exhibition, nicely old-fashioned with numerous rocks and minerals and gems and crystals on display in traditional cabinets. Otherwise I found much that was too flashy or kid-oriented. I liked the stuffed animals despite with the apologies for fading. I liked the Great Sequoia that was felled by moderns in late C10th after 1500 years-or-so. Another extinction in the making. OK but not thrilling. I tried for the Royal School of Music but the museum is closed for renovation. It was't a total loss as I got to play the paparazzi for a wedding party at the Royal Albert Hall. Apparently they had won a competition that very day on commercial TV. Presumably reality TV. Not my thing.

Then off to the Science museum. I wished I’d gone earlier and I was pushed for time. I found issues with labelling which could be problematic, but the collection was thrilling. Think steam engines, the first turbo car, the original mirror for Herschell’s 40-foot telescope, Crick & Watson’s actual model of DNA, the Roll Royce flying bedstead, Stephenson’s Rocket (currently out on loan), Lister’s microscope, the LIGO prototype beam splitter, Puffing Billy, a V2, an early particle accelerator, a Cray-1A supercomputer, the Apollo 10 command module and more. Britain was at the centre of sci-tech for a considerable time and this museum collects from that. Stunning. And that was mostly just one hall. A change from the arts.

The Natural History and Science Museums are adjacent to each other and near the Royal Albert Hall, V&A Museum, the Royal School of Music and more.

Blissing it

It’s not hard to list a big, orchestral choral piece as a favourite experience and even easier when it’s B9 or MRequiem. We attended Mozart Requiem at our local concert hall, Cadogan Hall near Sloane Square, performed by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra with the City of London Choir. Cadogan Hall is fairly small and intimate and is used for chamber music for the Proms, so such a big sound is generous in this space. We were even more blessed, taking (cheap) seats above and to the side of the orchestra, just feet over the timpani (protected by the floor below us), just feet from singers and with an easy performers’ view of conductor and piano soloist and four bassists, if just lacking for the singing soloists who projected into the hall. This is much like the orchestra hears and I enjoy that experience. The Requiem was the pop piece, but the first half was several Mendelssohn pieces, Impressario overture, a Bach-like religious cantata Vom Himmel hoch, de komm ish her and his Piano concerto no.1. Mendelssohn is, of course, the composer who reintroduced Bach to the musical world after a time of relative obscurity. We find it hard to associate Bach and obscurity these days but apparently he was mostly forgotten for some time. I sat with huge joy and closed eyes for most of the Requiem, just experiencing the sound washing over me. It was just so pleasurable, despite the sad theme. I wondered what was Mozart and what other, but so what. It wasn’t quite perfect. There was one time I felt at a loss and I dare say the musicians did there, too. But mostly I was overwhelmed by clear fast runs from basses (my prime source of discernment). I especially enjoyed following one bearded senior player with deceptively relaxed fingers. But there were other sources of pleasure. Obviously the choral voices but the strings generally with some accurately spelt responses in the piano concerto and some lovely sounds from middle strings (violas, cellos) with woodwinds (variously one bassoon, or single bassoon, oboe and flute or paired woodwinds or perhaps other combinations). It’s not something so easily realised from the stalls but became clear from our viewpoint. It was quite a lesson in colours and how they are made with woodwinds. The stage was pretty small, so piano was rolled in, partly over the conductor’s perch and very few had much elbow room, but that, too, helps intimacy. But how can you not melt with such big choral statements? This sound was big and the hall was small and we were close. For interest, the strings were the 12-10-6-6-4 with paired woodwinds but only 2 horns. The choir was about 150 (at least listed in the program). Just a pleasure and a joy and a what a great night out for ₤15 (a bargain in this expensive city).

The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra with the City of London Choir performed Mendelssohn and Mozart in the Cadogan Hall near Sloane Square. They were directed by Hilary Davan Wetton (conductor) with soloists Leon McCawley (piano) and singers Julia Doyle (soprano), Anna Harvey (mezzo-soprano), Nick Pritchard (tenor) and Benjamin Bevan (baritone).

Local gig

St James’s is becoming our local gig. Lunchtime concerts near Eros, Piccadilly. Central, with a quiet park beside and a market selling some junk but also some nice china. I like China. And with history. Designed by Wren; consecrated in 1684; severely damaged by bombing in WW2; place of baptism of William Blake in 1757. This concert was piano, Mozart Rondo in Amin K.551, Jorg Widmann Idyll and Abyss (a modern composer and schoolmate of the pianist), Beethoven eroica variations op.35 played by Bela Hartmann, Czech-German winner of Schubert and Beethoven Piano Society and other prizes. Relaxed but firm, exploratory in the Widmann, restrained in the Mozart, stirring in the Beethoven with a firm touch, all from memory. How’s that for local. A pleasure.

Bela Hartmann (piano) performed at St James’s Piccadilly.

Learnings

AAM and Barbican. Purcell and the Aeneid. All big names and that was enough to get us out, somewhat excited. The music was Dido and Aeneas, an early baroque opera from Purcell. That only lasted ~50 mins, in the second half. The first half was a collection of 7 pieces and songs, again by Purcell. The Barbican is big but comfy, arrayed with stalls, circle and balcony. The foyer is busy with lots of stairs (toilets well above and below!) and even a strangely raked floor down low. So it’s an adventure and an experiment. It didn’t always feel right but it’s of its period and renowned. I thought it sounded right. The audience was casual; the seating was similarly comfy and casually coloured. The stage was huge, sometimes noisy with footfalls, jutting into the audience. The AAM was similarly casual, bass and some others on stage early, tuning and warming up. Chairs were spaciously arranged; two harpsichords at the centre with two theorbos adjacent. Plenty of space around for theatricals. There was a surprising amount of theatre, mainly effective white puppetry against black costumes although also an oddly interjected sailors’ dance/ That was presumably for entertainment in the original: I’d seen something similar at the Globe to end Henry IV pt.1. So this was not music alone, but the music was lovely. It was mostly surprisingly simple, often repetitive, even as in contemporary looping (AAM uses the term in the program), several times with odd-feeling repeats. I counted one looping group of 6x¾ bars that was oddly unsettled but very inviting. Then the famed Dido’s lament, a tragic aria sung by Dido over a descending, repeated bass line as she dies. For this is a love story, love thwarted by the gods. Aeneas arrives in Carthage, falls for the widowed queen Dido; the gods forbid the love, call Aeneas away and Dido suicides. Typical ancient lit! The playing was lovely. I noticed a few holes (not least some strangely inexact sparse intro drumming; perhaps it was intended?). The singing was stunning if oddly complex to my ears. I guessed it was various ornamentations and articulations. The feel of time and interpretation was unexpected but these guys are experts in the relevant musics so it’s as close to authentic as we can expect to hear. But there were times that just floored me. Some beautiful and clearly identified individual choral voices and some stunningly together choral passages. Overall, it was pretty understated, fairly quiet in a large hall using period instruments, delicate with gut and harpsichords, with intense individual parts and a few ecstatic communal outpourings. So, a renowned venue and renowned performers and quite a lesson in the style. But one other factoid that stunned me. AAM have released over 300 albums, presumably mostly live. A list of future performances told of a concert that was planned to be recorded. That’s making a job of it, as well as a well-archived resuscitated genre. Much enjoyed and much learned.

The Academy of Ancient Music (AAM) with the Choir of the AAM performed Prucell Dido and Aeneas and more at the Barbican Centre under Richard Egarr (conductor, harpsichord) with soloists Caitlin Halcup (Dido), Ashley Riches (Aeneas), Rowan Pierce (Belinda) and Neal Davies (sourceress). Judith Evans (bass) covered the bottom end.

Two minds

I was interested to attend the new(-ish) British Library building just next to Kings Cross station. I’d seen the old BL reading room, Panizzi’s dome, but that was decades back. That original building is now the British Museum and the Library has its own, new construction. Purpose built. Megan and I were once librarians. We both worked at the National Library of Australia, so this was of professional interest. We actually attended with some friends who happened to be in London, also ex-librarians. So four colonial librarians, two from our parallel institution, attending a library tour at the BL. The tour was for all comers, so not a particular professional interest, but we got to see the King’s Library in the heart of the building, some work areas and delivery mechanisms, something on the location systems and the treasures and membership. We heard of legal deposit and international collections, St Pancras and Boston Spa, and of 35 millions items on-site (four levels of underground compactuses) from a total collection of 200 million. We asked a few questions about cataloguing and subject headings and browsing. It’s a busy place and books are accessible but not evident, except for the central pillar of the King’s Library which was discarded by Royalty to the nation with the requirement that it remain on display. One thing you learn in librarianship is the ability to discard. Obviously the King was not thus trained. We mused on AACR2 and its replacement (after my time, RDA), LCSH and old catalogue cards and effective locations and physical book sizing (it’s important for efficient storage). At least I wondered about the policy to collect all forms of one item, eg hardback, paperback, Kindle, etc. Mostly pretty basic stuff. Then a coffee and the Treasures Gallery. The Gallery is very textual, bookish but there are some memorable works, not least Codex Sinaiticus, Magna Cartas from 1225 and 1225 (Australia’s copy is 1297, of which three provisions are still in British (English?) law!), a temporary exhibit on Michael Palin and a disappointingly mawkish and self-absorbed display of the Beatles, a collection of musical manuscripts from Bach, Handel, Mozart and more, international holy books and book art. My favourite was the lovely Carmina regia.

But my two minds? One was the building itself. We were shown a model and drawings and told the architect had a year in the navy in his youth so modelled the building on a ship (the ship of knowledge). You could see the resemblance. It seemed a trivial comparison and demeaning for the concept and centrality of knowledge in civilisation. Not a good look in our eyes. But prominent in the foyer was a huge poster that spoke of welcoming and that spoke to our best images and love of the concept of the library. To some degree it’s passing as information becomes digitised. Access is a wonderful thing, so no problems there. The Net doesn’t provide everything, but it provides lots, perhaps most, even if it takes awareness not to be misled. But this statement of openness of knowledge to all was worthy of such an august institution. The best that British can be when it’s not colonialising or Thatchering or Brexiting. It’s the essence of the much-loved British pub writ large. Strangely I can’t find the text on the BL site or online. I question the “20 years of welcomes” at the end (surely it’s more) but here’s that statement.

Welcome researchers on a bit of a mission. Welcome mildly curious people. Welcome person looking up the history of Leicester city centre. Welcome poet seeking space. Welcome midlife entrepreneur wanting advice. Welcome scientists with a theory it's going to take at least 10 years to prove. Welcome local fancying a cup of tea. Welcome teenager gothically in love with Lord Byron. Welcome tourists who thinks we’re the British Museum. Welcome musicologist who will be in the papers with what you discover today. Welcome school learner who really wasn't expecting it to be like this. Welcome students scrolling through Twitter. Welcome person who doesn't want anyone to know what that you're working on. Welcome diligent journalist looking at a cached web page from 2006. Welcome parents in with the kids to see an exhibition (sorry about the tempting shop). Welcome all ten people who think they've got the most niche interests in the whole building. Welcome librarians from everywhere. Together we've got this. Welcome, knowledge. Welcome, curiosity. Welcome, imagination. Welcome, UK. Welcome, world. British Library: 20 years of welcomes.


The British Library is now located in St Pancras with further storage at Boston Spa.

Age suits

Even a heathen must respond to the dignity and majesty of the best of churches. This was the Holy Trinity Church just off Sloane Square. Not hugely old with design from the period of the Arts & Crafts movement but it’s gone through it own wars or at least suffered serious damage in WW2 and has been rebuilt. The damage is sometimes evident in lunettes or stained glass windows that are left blank or areas of wall in a different hue. But there are also coloured marbles and metal works of the period and voluptuous statues. Church attendance is not what it was, so this space seems pretty large for the few at this service of choral evensong and benediction, but in the modern way, the upside is that you get to meet some parishioners and celebrants. We spoke with the priest/minister as we left. He’d been to Australia twice but not to Canberra. Presumably also not Melbourne as he wanted to visit the site of Dame Edna’s past. He laughs easily at Barry Humphreys, most recently at the Barbican, no less! Whatever, this is just chatter with tourists. We were here for the dignity and beauty of the musical service. One Bach and a chance to sing along for a few other works (I only knew All things bright and beautiful and from the stronger chorusing, I’m sure most other were in that league). But the pipe organ was impressive, sometimes delicate, and the soprano soloist from the church choir, she who was leading the singing, was delicious at best. It was odd to see her out of robes and into street garb with red backpack at the end. It’s all pretty normal outside, despite the dignity and majesty of the occasion and the music. I left with a feeling of serenity. It’s not for nothing that the atheists are recreating something similar but Godless, but you have to admit that the churches have a big head start to catch up on.

Choral Evensong and Benediction was celebrated at the Holy Trinity Church just off Sloane Square, London. It was sung by Harriet Houghton Slade (soprano) with accompaniment by Oliver Lallemant (organ).

Lazy Sunday afternoon

Sunday afternoon was free so a jazz target. My worthy and seemingly comprehensive Jazz live in London site and app (recommended) offered several options. My choice required a train trip to East Croydon. It’s not really so far, but this is a big town and the Tube doesn’t do it all. I was happy with the choice. A lovely old pub, busy with jazz followers but also locals out to celebrate birthdays, a seat with some of the aficionados up front and a truly satisfying band with serious chops. This was the Stefanos Tsourelis Trio with the addition of Tony Woods. Stefanos leading from oud and acoustic guitar and the composer of the music. Tony on tenor and soprano, Dave on a woody Warwick e-bass and Eric on sharp, snappy drums. The trio had recorded a CD and were selling it. Sit-in Tony was obviously but capably reading. I liked the oud with its snappy picking and sharpness. It’s a fretless neck so tone is softened while chunky and slides are a feature. But most noticeable is the rhythmic play, all quarter notes and sudden sixteenth note fills. It’s a style Stefanos took also on guitar, also acoustic if amplified, also thuddy and prominent. I loved the effect. Dave fitted well with this vibe, mostly finger-funk sixteenth notes with nicely adventurous play over the neck, but also slap to percuss and thumb to cajole and just occasionally some effects, notably octaver. Stefanos also toyed with octaver later. Eric on drums was similarly sharp, similarly ready to snap to quick repetition. And how nicely did his solos develop within accompanying ostinatos. Tony was adventurous if less repetitively rhythmic. Not so much speedy as investigative, if with flourishes every now and then. Intelligent, seeking, touching: this was some beautiful and satisfying playing with real honesty. Nice reading too. I wondered where to place all this. There’s Mediterranean influences with oud and related stylisms, but the bass shouted funk and quick common unison lines sounded of jazz-rock and the sax was pure and deeply satisfying modern. I paint a melange (like much else in music these days) but maybe it gives a picture. Whatever, I was grooving in my seat. It was infectious, too. But then, it was also a nice environment. Low ceiling timbers and local ales on tap and huge plates being brought out for lunch. Tats and tees but also families and aficionados. It was a welcoming and comfy scene as well as a contemporary jazz venue. I was lucky to sit with Richard and Peter and Jean; up front, good view, chatting to the band. Richard was recording so we could chat mics and processing. Peter praised me as an Australian who doesn’t drink lager (ha! but not just me: Australia is reasonably civilised these days). Jean collected for the band and introduced me to the guy who had set up my Jazz live in London app. So this was a community. Lovely. A great afternoon out in East Croydon. At the Oval Tavern. Cheers.

Stefanos Tsourelis (oud, guitar) led a quartet with Tony Woods (tenor, soprano), Dave Jones (bass) and Eric Ford (drums) at the Oval Tavern, Croydon.