Nordic jazz on steroids - Eyolf Dale

Watching Norwegian pianist Eyolf Dale and his band take their places, it occurred to me that this was the second octet I'd seen on this very stage in recent months. I briefly wondered if we're witnessing a resurgence of popularity in the 'big small band' format. I hope so. 

I had a formative experience watching the fabulous David Murray octet of the late 1980s - I was very young, okay - at the (now defunct) Norwich Jazz Festival with my Uncle Alan. Ever since then, I've always liked the balance of space to improvise and compositional posibilities offered by that size of outfit.

So, another octet, another unusual configuration - this time piano, bass, drums, vibes, tenor sax/clarinet, trombone, trumpet/flugel horn and... violin (!) all of whom had apparently arrived only 40 minutes previously, thanks to a delayed flight from Oslo.

This gig was the UK launch of the band's latest album, Return to Mind. It's fair to say, I had a bit of a preconceived idea of what we were about to hear. I wasn't particularly familiar with Dale's work, and had deliberately avoided listening to either of his Edition releases as leader on Bandamp before the gig. The first couple of tunes, Midsomer Gardens and Soaring, proceeded much as I'd expected. This was unmistakably Nordic jazz - beautiful, tinged with melancholy, evocative of wide-open landscapes and starry skies, Adrian Loseth Waade's violin adding Nordic folky touches. 

Things took an unexpected turn when the band played The Mayor. Its quirky melody, tempo changes and manic energy interplay of vibes with horns put me in mind of Frank Zappa, which I certainly hadn't anticipated. Dale had told us that the tune is a reference to his father-in-law; the man must be quite some character.

From here on, the band really began to stretch out. There was some great interplay between all the band's musicians, justifying Dale's undoubtedly partisan introduction that they are the best musicians he knows. André Roligheten on tenor and clarinet, and Hayden Powell deserve special mention.  Norwegian-American Rob Waring, who has returned to his ancestral home, even helped with my ongoing therapy to overcome vibraphobia - is that a thing?

All in all, not the night I'd been expecting, but what a gig! For once, the words blown away express genuine loss for words.

Unfortunately, this seems to have been the only UK date in the tour, so you'll need to travel to catch the band any time soon. At the risk of rubbing salt in, here's that YouTube vid again:

Bit of a splurge!

I've heard lots of jazz fans of a certain age (i.e. older than me) talk about the heady days of Ray's Jazz Shop, when Ray still owned it. I only found out about and visited the old Ray's, in its Shaftesbury Avenue location, a couple of times before it was bought out by Foyles bookshop. I vaguely remember punters hunched over racks packed with vinyl, but it doesn't hold a nostalgic place in my heart, because I never really spent much time there.

Since its relocation to Charing Cross Road, new Rays  does seem to have been relocated, remodeled and reduced - in fact it seems to get a little smaller each time I go there - and now primarily stocks CDs. Not being a vinyl devotee like Jazzy G (I don't have the space or spousal agreement to store it) that last bit doesn't stress me too much, and the shop's still worth a browse. There's a wide selection of new releases and older stuff, plus a fair-sized chunk of second hand CDs, many of which seem to be very recent promo copies. 

Whenever I'm 'up west' with a bit of time on my hands I head in there and have a rummage in the second-hand section. Sometimes it doesn't turn up much, but yesterday's trawl uncovered some rich pickings:







Some recent and recent-ish releases here, plus some older stuff - just things that caught my fancy. 


I can't believe I hadn't already got the Alice Coltrane or EST in my collection! 


I got a bit carried away and splashed out on the new Sons of Kemet release while I was there.

Life gets in the way...

... or, to be precise, the need to earn a crust is getting in the way. 

I was planning to catch Kristian Borring, a guitarist who's been intriguing me for a while, at the lovely Colchester Arts Centre Jazz Club this coming Sunday. I'd bought tickets upfront, too.

Alas, as one who languishes in the gig economy (now there's an irony) I'm forced to take some work on next week, under pain of not being offered any more by this particular exploitative... ahem, entirely reasonable and ethical organisation - not to mention my partner's heavy hints about my contribution to the household budget. Double alas, the parlous state of our public transport means I need to travel down to Maidstone on Sunday night, suffering the usual weekend engineering works that can turn the simplest journey into a homeric epic, if I'm going to get there on time.  

Looks like Jazzy G will have to go it alone. At least I've got tomorrow night's Eyolf Dale album launch gig to console myself with - of which, more later.

Meanwhile, here's a taste of Kristian Borring to be getting on with: