Xhosa Cole Quartet

It's an alien experience, listening to the music of Thelonius Monk without a piano, but also a joyous one. Xhosa Cole and his band presented Monk's racing tempos and virtuosic melodies in a whole new sound palette, encouraging the audience to hear these familiar tracks entirely afresh.

To say Cole is a generous player is an understatement. The evening started with the sound of his saxophone front and centre, but then he quickly retreated to the sidelines, literally prowling the edge of the stage as he turned the spotlight onto his bandmates. Josh Vadiveloo on double bass seemed to have a near telepathic connection to Nathan England-Jones on drums, accelerating and depressing tempos together as if they were one player. Steve Saunders dazzled on the guitar with lyrical solos that felt pulled from the heart.

This may be a symptom of my age, but my overriding impression of the band was one of youth. All in their 20s, they looked every inch the college quartet, dressed casually in track suits bottoms, chinos, T-shirts and trainers, the vibe was so relaxed we could have been in a university common room. Their cheeky, chilled banter was utterly charming, and although he didn't speak much, Xhosa built an immediate rapport with the audience, reminding us of the three highest compliments an audience can make to a jazz band: make noise, dance, and buy the CD!

The youth-o-meter nearly snapped when Xhosa introduced two of his students to the stage (Luke Purbrick on guitar and Mejedi Owusu, both studying at Trinity, both brilliant and earning rapturous applause). With his typical generosity he described himself not as their teacher but their co-learner, and for me that summed up everything about his playing style. Open hearted, thoughtful and on a journey of discovery with whomever he's playing. When Carmen MacRae celebrated the music of Thelonius Monk, there was a sassy, edgy, aloof attitude to her interpretations that matched the prickly personality her audiences had grown to love. Xhosa Cole has managed to find a completely new character in Monk's music, a character that's welcoming, warm and creating a space where everyone's invited.

WJJ Gala Opening: Omar and Zara MacFarlane

This is only the second year of the Watford Jazz Junction festival, but as the crowds gathered to await the start of the opening night gala at the Watford Palace Theatre last night, the anticipation was palpable. The bar and foyer were abuzz with excited chatter as people eagerly geared up for a double headline night featuring two members of bone fide UK jazz royalty.

First up was multi award winning singer songwriter Zara McFarlane who, resplendent in a carnival green catsuit and wedge platforms, immediately brought a slice of Caribbean sunshine to the stage. This year the festival is celebrating the influence of the Caribbean on UK jazz and Zara charmed us with a story about her two sets of grandparents migrating from the UK from Jamaica as part of the Windrush diaspora. Although both intended to return to the Caribbean, only one set did, she quipped, adding “we have those who chose to stay to thank for me being here tonight!”

Her music balanced gorgeous evocative melodies in the foreground with intriguing, complex rhythms underneath, serpentine rhythms that were playful, shifting and seductive. The lyrics too were enticing, though often also spiky and provocative, tackling issues ranging from race and identity to self love and beauty standards. A particular favourite of mine was 'Broken Water', in which Zara snapped the end syllable off each of those title words (creating broke- war-) and looped into a scintillating whirlpool of sound, both flowing and snapping simultaneously. Her voice bent notes blue like whale song, and at times rose to sublime operatic tones in a manner reminiscent of the sassy Sarah Vaughn.

A highlight of the night however was the participation section, for which Zara wisely picked a lyric-less number! She had the whole auditorium singing along to a four line melody with a (once again) complex rhythm which offered space for her to add some feisty stomps in the final sing through. She had us all feeling like jazz pros!

Her cover of 'Police and Thieves' was an immediate crowd pleaser while her closing track, 'Future Echoes', was a sublime love letter to human connection. The line ‘I want to bathe in the clouds with you’ soared through the air like a carnival streamer.

Next up was the incomparable soul legend that is Omar Lye-Fook MBE. Igniting the stage in vivid red and orange, with sunglasses dangling coolly from his hips, he wasted no time in showing us why he has a career which has successfully spanned four decades and has included collaborations with Stevie Wonder, Common and Courtney Pine.

Billed as blurring the lines between jazz, reggae, nu-soul and soul, my abiding impression of his gala night set list was pure funk! A heavy, slapping bass, hot stabs on the trumpet and saxophone, and a treacly back beat on the drums soon turned the Palace into an after hours groove joint (perhaps for the first time in its history!).

'Everybody Loves The Sunshine' swiftly brought everybody to their feet, and with a little encouragement from Omar it was soon clear the Watford crowd were ready to party! He had us singing along to that famous repetitive refrain, praised us for stopping at the right moment, and when it looked like we might be about to sit down he called us out: “Who told you to sit down? I know you paid for a seat but it doesn’t mean you have to use it!”

From then on we were all on our feet, dancing along to his eternal classic There's Nothing Like This and whooping as he assured us that playing Watford is better than London. It was an old school house party atmosphere and when his final number ‘F**k War Make Love’ dropped, the band exploded into characterful solos and we knew we’d witnessed something very special indeed. A night for the jazz history books, and a stupendous opening for this year’s highly anticipated Watford Jazz Junction Festival.

Photos courtesy of Chris Newstead, Festival Director

The Ilario Ferrari Trio Live at Clarendon Muse

Last year saw the launch of Watford Jazz Junction, a wonderful festival celebrating jazz music in its widest sense, welcoming both long time jazz heads and curious first time explorers to the genre. This year the festival is back between 18th and 21st May, but -lucky old Watford- there are a good few opportunities beforehand to get in on the action early!

On Sunday 26th February, Matinee Jazz at Clarendon Muse presented us with a delightful double bill. Vibraphone player Anthony Kerr delivered a sterling first half of jazz standards, and was followed by The Ilario Ferrari Trio, made up of Charlie Pyne (bass and vocals), Katie Patterson (drums and vocals), and Ilario himself on piano and voice.

From the first piece, entitled Rebirth, the trio had the auditorium in the palm of their hands. Ilario explained that the piece was inspired by the rhythms, culture and atmosphere of India, especially the south, which he had visited with his partner. The audience was transported not only out of Watford but out of their everyday experience by the exotic and unpredictable flavour of this piece. It set the scene for an afternoon of music that, while playing affectionately with familiar sounds and structures, had more than a touch of the uncanny about it and consistently swept us with sudden force into bold and exciting new vistas.

The most arresting pieces for me, Morning Samba and Mediterranean Dance, catapulted us into sharply contrasting aural landscapes with speed and alacrity. The vocal harmonies in Morning Samba were luscious enough to swim in, inviting you to laze and linger in their richness and strength. In contrast, the challenging rhythms of Mediterranean dance, exploring 5/4 time and complex, energetic syncopation was like a shot of adrenaline and filled the space with a frantic sense of movement.

Alongside the musical globetrotting were more accessible pieces. Walking the Yellow Line had an almost 'pop' vibe, foregrounding a traditional lead vocal with sing along backing vocals. Indeed, the audience were invited to join in toward the end, much to our delight! Playground too had a radio-ready sound, not least because of the sumptuous interplay between the trio. You get the sense that these three musicians are on a journey together, enjoying each other's company, sharing ideas and inspirations (Ferrari's dog and Pyne's baby both get a mention on that score!), and keenly alert to each other's musical gestures. 

Ferrari is a gentle showman. Dressed in a vibrant red Indian kurta he immediately demands attention and rewards you for giving it. He invites you into his world, and delights in upturning expectations, plucking the piano from the inside and finger-tapping it on the outside to create a new and engaging palette of sound. Pyne came across as an earth mother, dressed in flowing black and white, and solidly holding the sound together with her confident bass rhythms. When she scat sings it is both a surprise and a joy, the highlight of my afternoon. Patterson is a wild child, grinning maniacally behind her drum kit and taking impish pleasure in every whack of the skins and tinkle of the bell; she immediately charms.

The band will play next in Hitchin on the 25th of March and launch their new album 'Be Yourself' at Kings Place (Hall 2) in Kings Cross on 1st June. Highly recommended! 

Visit the website here.

Photo credit: Robert Crowley Photography @rw_crowley

Notre Dame by Threedumb Theatre (live stream)

Steve Smith has repeatedly proven himself as one to watch in London theatre. This month he won his second Offie Award for Dog/Actor (Camden Fringe) and was lauded for his revival of the bleak Harry's Christmas (King's Head), both reviewed rapturously on this very blog.

So it's a pleasure to see him pushing forward with two personal passions of his: gothic storytelling and digital theatre. His company Threedumb Theatre adapted Victor Hugo's 'NOTRE DAME DE PARIS' into a horrorifyingly atmospheric livestream entirely filmed on a mobile phone in one singular tracking shot. It's no substitute for being live in the space with the actors and set, but it's a vital area of experimentation which has made huge strides forward since the pandemic and its lockdowns forced us to find new ways of sharing and engaging with theatre.

It's immediately clear that this is not a theatre show squeezed reluctantly onto the screen. The whole thing is designed from start to finish with the online, at-home audience 100% in mind, as is made clear from an opening slide which reminds us to dim the lights and switch to full screen, which I obligingly did! As a consequence the direction is thrilling cinematic. Careful attention to transitions and points of view keep the perspective spinning out as fast as the story, with sharp angles, quick tracks and bold use of coloured light and silhouette to create a dizzying and disorientating Parisian backdrop. You feel at times like the bellringer himself, pulled in all directions with unexpected force by the ropes of Notre Dame.

This classic tale of a twisted triangle of unwholesome love and lust here opens with a blood drenched Esmerelda, played with balletic poise by Maria Masonou, fleeing a frenzied mob. She finds sanctuary in the cathedral, and is quizzically comforted by the gargoyle Stryga (Lizzie Burder). I loved the presentation of Stryga, her gargoyle costume was half blanket, half puppet, and totally otherworldly. She acted as a conduit from the all too real world of our own living rooms (or room of choice!) into the theatrical space. From this cloistered captivity, Esmeralda's fate is sealed. She is trapped, torn between the memory of her dead lover, the obsessive attentions of creepy priest Frollo (a scene-chomping Duncan Riches) and the simple-minded, but fundamentally gentle-hearted outcast Quasimodo (a puppyish Gary Duncan). The lack of prosthetics on Quasimodo marks a continuing trend, as seen recently in James McAvoy's noseless Cyrano. here it works well to quickly establish sympathy for this character treated unfairly as a monster by his fellow citizens, and highlights the cruelty and arbitrary way we can label people outcasts and irredeemables based on appearances alone.

The script by Stuart Crowther was paced and really shone in crowd scenes, where the dialogue was crisp and cutting, and in moments of humour (the gargoyle retitles herself "executive limestone sentry"). Filmed at The Space, it's great to see Watford's Pump House also recognised for its support in this innovative area of staged performance.

Find out more and watch Threedumb shows by visiting their website, where you can also support their work through gofundme.

Harry's Christmas

Christmas has in recent years become almost a parody of itself, considering how overwhelming and all consuming its more commercial aspects have become. We rate our Christmases on how many presents we receive, how many parties we attend or how much booze we drink. 

How sobering then to sit in the intimate space of the King's Head Theatre, transformed convincingly into a shabby living room, and sit with lonesome Harry, who judges the success of his own Christmas on how many Christmas cards he’s received.

Considering the play was first performed in 1985 we might think of Christmas cards today as a fond anachronism. In our age of digital greeting cards and social media we might have assumed they’d die a death. But Harry’s card counting still carries huge emotional weight as a symbol of his helpless yearning for connection and human contact, far more I think than any text message ever could. 

The evening opens with the sounds of bubbly Xmas pop carelessly muzaking away in the background. As we take our seats we notice Harry in grey tracksuit bottoms, white T-shirt and sturdy square glasses blithely decorating his tree. The atmosphere is one of festive ease but the undercurrent of despair is already seeping through. Harry in his drabness already seems out of step with the dazzling silver baubles and colourful foil tinsel of his Christmas tree. The scene is set for a tale of conflict between the high expectations of jovial socialising, and the hard reality of loneliness, anguish and marginalisation.

At 70 minutes with no interval this play is shaped to provide a sharply intense nugget of emotional trauma that punches hard and fast. Steve Smith as our eponymous (anti)hero delivers in spades. He captures painfully the disintegration from Harry's early optimism, a hope that if he reaches out someone might take his hand, to his despairing conviction that he’s all alone in the world. It's gut-wrenching to watch. Smith’s thoughtful portrayal really foregrounds the courage it takes to keep pushing forward day after day through depression, to challenge the dark voices in your head and to search for grains of hope in an empty sack. Smith instilled Harry with a dignity that made him, ironically, both a Everyman character and an exceptional figure worthy of our awe and pity.

And perhaps that’s the core message of this timely and stirring piece. That we’re all the heroes of our own plays, facing struggles and challenges that those around us might be entirely oblivious to, but which can literally be matters of life and death. As we draw to Harry's inevitable tragic conclusion, he's dressed not in grey, but in paper crown and garish Christmas jumper, his pain hidden under the frippery of the season.

Fitting then that this production is in association with the charity CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably). If you’d like to donate please follow this link.

The direction by Scott Le Crass was top notch, making full use of the space in what could have been a very static production. The sound design and music by Julian Starr helped lift the play’s energy and zest, while the fairy light ceiling and phone work both deserve special mention as examples of how attention to detail can have a huge impact on storytelling. It plays till December 24th. My advice: cut through the Christmas schmaltz and go.

Evita at Watford Palace Theatre

Evita is one of those musicals that has been enjoyed by so many audiences over so many years that it can genuinely be described as part of the public consciousness. Don’t cry for me Argentina was such a pop chart success that even avowed musical theatre avoiders can hum the chorus.

How charming then to be presented with this fresh and thoughtful revival from Cassio Productions. The unfussy direction encourages you to focus on the characters and see them anew. The stage craft feels deliberately stripped back to concentrate simply on the unfolding story of a small town girl who claws her way to the top of the hierarchy, leaving you to make fresh judgements about the scale of her ambition.

The set is a scaffold podium that immediately evokes the fire and fury of agitprop and street politics. In our own turbulent times of rapid leadership changes, the all too real and threatening power of politics and rhetoric is emphasised by the stark metal lines that slash across your vision and emphasise the risk of a graceless fall.

Graeme Smith delivers a cynical Che, sarcastically commenting on the action while slinking in the sidelines. He has a wonderful way of relaxing the formal rhythm of the music so his singing feels colloquial and conversational. As a result he builds a collusive relationship with the audience as he guides us forward with banter and disapproving eye rolls.

The smooth crooner Magaldi is played with seductive cool by Adam Christie who, with a well placed pout or two, has audience members both on stage and off fluttering in delight. Andy Nicol’s authoritative Peron is an effective contrast, with his upright soldierly demeanour revealing the more controlling side of masculine ambition.

The Mistress, played beautifully by Beth Revens, brought the house down with her tender performance of Another Suitcase in Another Hall. But of course the night belonged to Katie Stephenson, whose sweet talking, demurely smiling Eva never let an opportunity to social climb slip through her fingers. Stephenson’s rich clear vocals, energetic dancing and captivating character portrayal mark her out as a true triple threat.

The live band were ably led by Clive Ogden, who drew some captivating harmonies out of the ensemble. And hats off to Elsie Betts not only for telling this story with such crispness, but for putting together some riotously complex chorus numbers that any professional production would be proud of.

Dog/ Actor

Steven Berkoff's Dog/ Actor is an evening of two monologues performed by the bewitching talent that is Stephen Smith. Produced by Threedumb Theatre, the summer tour is taking in Liverpool, Cambridge, Bath, Wimbledon and Edinburgh, but I saw it on a hot evening in the intimate Etcetera Theatre in Camden, a detail that has relevance later on!

The first of the monologues, Dog, offers an insight into the day of a British low-class yob (to use Berkoff's words) as he navigates the streets with his fearsome beast of a pitbull. Dressed like a national front mannequin, with skinhead, jeans, boots and braces in perfect order, the piece opens with an extended mime. Smith performs with comic bravado, running into the audience and circling the stage in the wake of his demon dog. The tension and energy in his muscles and movements was so convincing that he was a fountain of sweat in five minutes flat (I said the hot evening would return!) and I found myself repeatedly looking down to the spot where the imagined dog would have resided to check it wasn't really there!

The mime was a brilliant choice of opening to a rather problematic monologue that tightrope walks the difficult line between portraying and humanising a monster. The character's prejudiced, racist attitudes are so obviously and uncomfortably repugnant. Yet give a man a dog, prove he has a heart with his love for the creature, and immediately he elicits sympathy. Even when that dog, played with terrifying rabidity as Smith throws himself to the ground and rolls his eyes back like a tortured devil, is a fiend you wouldn't touch with a barge pole. This wonderful paradox, the co-mingling of tenderness and bigotry, is exactly where theatrical drama succeeds, drawing complicated layers within characters who are both repulsive and attractive. However, the story doesn't go far enough in exploiting this magic territory and although there is a great deal of empathy generated, there isn't a great deal of plot. The real triumph of the piece is Smith's mime. He even transforms a simple act of graffiti vandalism into a moment of comic delight.

The second monologue, Actor, follows an aspiring thespian on an unending stroll through town in which he meets various fellow actors who are all doing better than him. The cheerful delight he expresses to their face is beautifully undercut by the reaction he shares with the audience, which is a few notches closer to bitter. This duplicity is very effectively represented by the layer of white grease paint the actor wears as a mask. Again, with the heat of the theatre, that mask began to drip with gothic menace fairly swiftly, the actor's face disintegrating before our eyes, another powerful metaphor for the disintegration of the actor's 'self' in the face of constant rejection.

Having enjoyed Smith's Edgar Allen Poe monologues during the Watford Fringe Festival, I was delighted to see that the segue between pieces, in which he transforms from one character to another in front of the audience, was retained. It's such a simple but effective way of foregrounding the craft of the actor, the work of deconstructing and building character. But also it's just so exciting to watch because that transformation is usually the bit that's hidden from view. It feels very exposing, like you're being let into a moment of vulnerability. This, along with the clever selection of monologues that play with and within the horror and gothic genres, has established for Smith a senes of style, purpose and mission which is genuinely remarkable in an actor so young.

A compliment too for the lighting and sound design which gave life to the simple black box set. In Dog, the hellish red used to distinguish dog from owner was sharp and startling, while in Actor the use of sound looping was ingenious. It began as the charming soundtrack to the actor's day, but ended as a depressing comment on the repetitive nature of his life rejections, both personal and professional, as he delved into yet another hopeless Hamlet audition.

Overall, a brilliant performance that reminds us why we love live theatre.

Photos courtesy of Cat Humphries Photography.