Chris Biscoe: Tony Kinsey was the last representative of a remarkably talented generation of innovators who introduced and consolidated post-war jazz and bebop in the UK.

Way Out West, the group of musicians promoting jazz in west London, was especially fortunate to count two of these figures in its membership. Eddie Harvey, the slightly older of the two, made the transition from the 1940s New Orleans revival into the modern jazz scene. Tony Kinsey sprang, fully formed it seemed, into the modern jazz scene, playing with the Johnny Dankworth Seven when only twenty years old.

Through the 1950s and ‘60s he led many small groups, including the quartet with which Joe Harriott made some his first recordings, and groups with Ronnie Ross, Bill Le Sage and Peter King. One of the photos I have seen at Tony’s house was from his residency at the Flamingo Club, and shows Duke Ellington stars Paul Gonsalves, Jimmy Hamilton and Jimmy Woode sitting in with the quartet. This was also the period in which Tony toured with such jazz legends as Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald.

Peter King was the soloist with the quartets which Tony presented for Way Out West, followed by Sammy Mayne and a rare contemporary appearance by Tony Coe on alto sax. Tony often featured his own very melodic compositions, which, to my ear, had a surprising English quality. The fact that he was a prolific songwriter, writing his own lyrics, may be the clue to this quality in his writing. At the same time, his compositions, particularly for big band, are very definitely in a modern jazz vein.

Starting in the 1950s, Tony developed his writing for big band, and also created contemporary non-jazz compositions, particularly for string quartet. The big band writing became increasingly important and resulted in several suites, including Anatomy of a Jazz Festival, The Thames Suite, and The Embroidery Suite. I was fortunate to be invited to play baritone sax on the premier of the Embroidery Suite, and on the 2016 live recording. Demonstrating incredible stamina, Tony assembled the band, provided all the music, rehearsed, directed and played in the band during its only rehearsal on the afternoon of the concert, and played flawlessly throughout the two hour concert.

Tony had a stroke during the late 2010s, from which he recovered very well, but he struggled to meet his own exacting standards, and didn’t perform again. He remained as interested in and dedicated to jazz as ever, and continued to write. In 2024, with support from Way Out West, we played a big band concert premiering a new composition, and once again featuring The Embroidery Suite. On a cold January day, Tony sat through the entire rehearsal, occasionally coming over with suggestions, particularly to raise the tempo on a couple of pieces. (Tony loved fast tempos, and had the hands, feet and brain to play with remarkable relaxation at tempos many struggle with). He then attended the concert and sat in the front wearing one of the most elegant suits I’ve ever seen.

RIP Tony Kinsey

Pete Hurt: I first met Tony through Way Out West, and struck up a friendship with him. I occasionally went round to his house where he would talk about his life, and play recordings he’d done with various bands big and small. He told one story about the time he was touring with Billie Holiday at a venue with a particularly dodgy PA system. After a few attempts to sing with the mic cutting out, she stormed off the stage, leaving the backing trio to their own devices. He also showed me a scrapbook he’d put together, documenting the period in the ’50s and ’60s when he was a well-known ‘face’ and would get regular mentions in the press and on the radio.

I managed to play with Tony a few times with various Way Out West groups, but as the years rolled on Tony experienced various medical problems and became increasingly frail. His last big event just over a year ago, with which WOW was involved, was a concert of his big band music in Hampton, not far from where he lived. Tony was insistent that he was going to play drums with the band, but he hadn’t played for some time and was physically not up to it in the end. He came to the rehearsal and made suggestions about our playing. The evening was a fitting tribute to him.

He lived a long and busy life, and was a well-regarded and respected musician and man. He’ll be missed.

Emily Saunders: Tony Kinsey was a phenomenal musician, drummer, composer, and great friend to me. Over the years we had countless conversations, alongside countless garden chats during the pandemic, reminiscing about live music and his musical career performing with golden stars of jazz including Ella Fitgrerald, Sarah Vaughan, Ronnie Scott’s band, along with his friendship with Buddy Rich, and Tony’s love of composing for big bands, as well as TV and film, including the BBC over decades, for example the theme tune for the BBC kids TV programme Willo the Wisp. Throughout our friendship he’d always ask me about my composing and singing work, he loved my stuff which meant the world to me. He was so incredibly supportive. I’ll always be hugely grateful to Tony and will miss him dearly.

Gary Willcox: I first became aware of Tony Kinsey when I was a young boy, living with my family and learning the drums. He lived a mile up the road from us and my Dad’s involvement in music, and the musical life of the area, brought him into contact with Tony.

At one time I’d lost direction in my drum studies and had enough of lessons. At my Dad’s request, Tony came over and listened to me play, and gave some generous appraisal and advice.

Later, my Dad promoted a concert by Tony’s Big Band which contained many jazz legends from the ’50s and ’60s: Jimmy Deuchar, Hank Shaw, Pete King.

More recently I was thumbing through the liner notes of a Joe Harriott box set, and noticed Tony was playing drums on many of the tracks, illustrating how prevalent Tony was in what’s often looked back on as a ‘Golden Era’ in UK Jazz.

Tony also mentioned how he’d been to New York in the 1940s and 1950s, on the cruise liners. He went many times, 30 or 40 times, he couldn’t remember exactly. He said on these trips he’d seen Charlie Parker’s band with Miles Davis and Max Roach, and later with Red Rodney and Roy Haynes, several times. These last details caused me to stare into the distance in a misty-eyed fantasy, and I realised what a connection Tony had, and in fact was, to an essential era of jazz music.

Last year, Way Out West put on a concert of Tony’s music, and the skills as a composer and arranger which enabled him to expand his career into film and television were very apparent. 

Tony was the last of his post-war generation – Ronnie Scott, Tubby Hayes, Joe Harriott, Johnny Dankworth, et al – all now fabled in history.

Kate Williams: It was a privilege to play in a concert in late January 2024 in which an augmented Way Out West performed Tony Kinsey’s Embroidery Suite, and a new piece for big band. Despite illness in his later years, he continued to write and arrange music. Tony played an active part in the afternoon rehearsal that day, and both his astuteness and energy were formidable (for a person of any age, let alone one in their 90s!).

In addition to Tony’s great musicianship, I will always remember his lucidity, dry wit and warmth. He will be greatly missed. RIP Tony Kinsey.

The post Tributes to Tony Kinsey (1927-2025) first appeared on UK Jazz News.

Howard composed many pieces for our trio and over time generated a language and philosophy that became more open and adventurous whilst always retaining his roots in the classical jazz methodology. My lifelong love of playing bass in a piano trio was definitely fostered by Howard. Our first recording, with Jon Hiseman on percussion, in an edition of 99 (!) LPs entitled “Discussions”, already proposed an interesting mix of tight compositional procedures and open playing. Later Alan Jackson occupied the percussion chair with the music consolidating further this approach. The big change came when Tony Oxley took over percussion duties, with the compositional / structural side of the music becoming increasingly lean, and free improvisational settings being the norm.

Further to this, Howard gradually progressed to solo playing, establishing his keyboard art as something very individual and becoming a major voice in improvised music without totally relinquishing his roots.

His writing also extended to pieces for the London Jazz Composers Orchestra and offered colourful, thoughtful scores contrasting my own , sometimes complex compositions. Howard understood the idea of musical architecture that promoted disciplined realisations along with creating a platform for spontaneous improvisation.

Howard was always an astute observer of the musical personalities he worked with, and even as his Parkinson’s disease slowly curtailed his playing, he possessed the spirit of generosity for his fellow colleagues and created exciting musical scenarios even under the most trying circumstances.

We shall miss him very much.

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Larry Stabbins: I first met Howard playing  on  a Company-style week long festival in Berlin and after  doing lots of playing together, Howard recommended me to Tony Oxley (it’s a mark of Tony’s respect for him that Tony booked me for the Camden Jazz Festival without hearing me play). 

That really changed things for me and I played with him for many  years with Oxley’s bands, in the LJCO, and later as a quartet with Tony Wren and Mark Sanders.. We taught together at Barry Summer School and on occasion shared rooms on tour. 

He was hugely interested in and encouraging to all the younger ” up and coming” players and seemed to really enjoy his teaching and the contact that gave him with the younger musicians.

He was very  generous with his praise, rarely had a bad word to say about anyone, had a lovely dry sense  of humour and an unflappably cheerful, optimistic outlook on life right to the end

When I picture him it’s always with that wonderfully warm, cheerful smile of his.

I spoke to him just before he moved into the care home and when I said how pleased I was to hear that he was still practising every day (probably most of the day as he always did )  he said “Well that’s what I’ve always done. All I do.  All I’ve ever done is make music.”

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Iain Ballamy: Howard Riley – Eat, sleep, Monk, repeat….

In 2002 I received a message quite out of the blue from a man I had never met and knew very little about – Howard Riley!

He’d read a jazz magazine interview where I’d been ruminating on various aspects of the jazz “spectrum”. I reflected on the divisions in jazz at the time between “free” improvisers and “so called” mainstream players who think they are from different planets!

I tried to communicate a wider aspiration that I still have – to be able to play a wide spectrum of improvised music and resist being put into boxes and categorised. Critics and fellow musicians alike often know one facet of a players work and presume that’s their whole story.

I’ve never seen why more formal skills (such as reading and navigating harmony) detract from a players ability to truly freely improvise, it’s only fear and a certain mindset that inhibits a wider outlook and approach.

Enter Howard Riley in the red corner where he threw down the gauntlet! :- “I think you might be implying that free players cant play tunes or changes but you’re suggesting that changes players can play free improv? Therefore I challenge you to meet and play! Our chosen battle ground shall be the music of Thelonious Monk”.

The venue for the big stand-off was BBC Maida Vale studios. The referee was Robert Abel from ‘Jazz on 3’ the amazing long running and sadly missed cutting edge radio production by Jez Nelson at ’Somethin’ Else.
We with little or no discussion we met and played 5 Monk tunes, 2 takes of each as follows:-

Round Midnight
Well you Needn’t
Misterioso
Ruby My Dear
Blue Monk

The session was sparky, rhythmic and full of surprises, a real meeting of musical intuitions, tastes and styles emerged exploring this musical common ground.

What surprised me most was how compatible we were and how our musical Venn diagram seemed to have such a huge common area. Howard was a formidable force on the piano, strong in rhythm harmony and filled with creativity using very strong and clear ideas which carried through. His playing suggested so much to interact with providing an endless source of musical flow and inspiration as we bounced off each other!
The result was a unanimous draw!

I soon forgot all about this extraordinary meeting as the years went by until once again out of the blue Howard called me. I thought it was a prank call at first. He insisted he should send me a copy of our long lost duel and when the CD arrived I was stunned by the result. I hope a record label will consider releasing it, to share his unique playing with all.

I was lucky to meet and play with Howard and so glad to have this memory of our meeting.

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With sincere thanks to Dr Duncan Heining, who will be including a substantial chapter on Howard Riley in his next book.

The post Howard Riley (1943-2025) first appeared on UK Jazz News.

Darius Brubeck writes:

I asked my friend and distinguished South African Musicologist, Professor Christopher Ballantine, to send me a definition of the word “Ubuntu” for this piece. His reply was:

‘The best way to describe Ubuntu is as an alternative to the individualistic and capitalistic values that rule in the West. It’s s a Zulu/Xhosa (Nguni) word, and though it’s sometimes translated as ‘humanness’, I find that superficial.  Instead, the real implication of the word is captured in the famous Nguni expression, ‘umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu’ – which translates as: ‘a person is a person through other people’. So, one could also put it as: ‘I am, because we are.’

Dave O’Higgins introduced me to Martin at one of our “Brubecks Play Brubeck” gigs at Ronnie Scott’s some time BC (Before Covid). Like me, Martin had spent years working in South Africa, and of course, both of us were Americans living in the UK, so talk flowed easily.

Regarding his Ubuntu label, he said he wasn’t in it for the money. Similarly, I assured him I didn’t move to England for the climate. We both agreed that a good life is about other things. It seems Martin had already made enough money during an international career in advertising (California, Manhattan, Johannesburg, London) and he was one of the few successful people I’ve met who knew the meaning of ‘enough’.

As so many of us know, he was knowledgeable and passionate about jazz and this informed and inspired his London-based, quality jazz label. Ubuntu would not be the usual company but more like an eco-system of artists and music business professionals; independent talents helped but not dominated by centralised coordination. It seemed that every other week we would receive notices about new signings.

Martin was a great enabler. Rather than just making deals, he entered and encouraged relationships thereby allowing musicians space to focus on music while he took charge of the multiple functions of a traditional label. We fund our own projects and Ubuntu organizes the rest. ‘The rest’ is a lot: manufacturing (CDs and Vinyl), warehousing and online sales, promotion and PR, launches and advertising as well as the complex accounting that follows releases. Martin, a very savvy CEO, worked flat-out for his musicians for very little monetary return and artists still owned their creations outright.

Last year, Cathy, my wife and manager, and I approached Martin about re-issuing The Jazzanians: We Have Waited Too Long, a historically significant album I produced in South Africa in 1988. He did an amazing job as Executive Producer and with Emma Perry’s brilliant promotional work, it received many glowing reviews.

Additionally, last year, Martin came to us with the concept of a special award to enable final year or recent graduates from the Royal Academy of Music make a debut album. This resulted in a partnership between Brubeck Living Legacy, (a registered charity in the US) Ubuntu Management and, of course, the jazz program at Royal Academy of Music run by Nick Smart. Last year’s recipient, Dutch alto saxophonist Kasper Rietkerk, has just finished an album which will be released by Ubuntu Music (LINK).

Whenever Martin was fired up by an idea, he assembled a team that would carry it to fruition. This is a very down-to-earth equivalent of ‘I am, because we are.’

My most recent London gig which was arranged by Martin was a combined Time Out celebration and a re-creation of Jazzanian music at the Jazz Café in Camden. It took place on January 12, only two days after Martin died. It was packed, emotional and somehow very Ubuntu in feeling and spirit, a fitting tribute.

In closing, I would like to say that Martin was a kind, cultured and generous person. He was a realistic idealist and an idealistic realist. He ran businesses, he ran marathons and was a good friend. His active friendship was obviously felt by the many people who joined Leslie, his daughters Sabrina and Camilla and his very close colleagues, Emma Perry and Sam Carelse at the moving requiem mass.

Hamba Kahle (Zulu phrase for ‘go well’) Martin. Darius Brubeck

The post Martin Hummel (1955-2025). A Tribute. first appeared on UK Jazz News.

PETE CHURCHILL

I always thought, when I listened to Bobby play, that he wasn’t just playing tunes, he was playing songs. This was my connection with Bobby – for he was the most amazing improviser to sing with… unapologetically ducking and diving around the lyric and making you work hard to hold your own. It was a great education.

To hear Bobby on a ballad… to feel him hunker down for several choruses of endless invention with that unmistakeable ‘cry’ in his sound, this… this will stay with me forever.

Anyone who spent any time with him knew they were catching a glimpse of another era – here was a more direct and, dare I say it, deeper connection to the source of this music we play. You were in the hands of a master – the real deal… I can’t believe he’s gone… ‘It never entered my mind’.

ANDREW CLEYNDERT

It’s too hard to believe Bobby has gone.

So many, many wonderful memories of the most joyous music making.

Cabin In The Sky springs to mind, his first tune of the day. One take. Breathtaking.

An immense generosity of spirit; a true giant; a unique source of the music’s essence; a player of the blues like few others; an irrepressible, infectious love of the music; a musical inclusiveness extended to players, audience, in fact, anyone that stepped in his path; that searing sound, slicing straight to the heart. Always looking ahead.

“… Think we nailed it!” he can’t help himself exclaiming, a broad, mischievous smile breaking, brimming with enjoyment after another typically outrageously swinging solo.

Yes, Bobby, you nailed it.

ADRIAN ELLIS

When I was 20 , I spent six weeks in Oxford’s Radcliffe Infirmary with renal failure. I became obsessed with the theme music chosen for Radio 4’s Book at Bedtime, John Le Carré reading his own The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. It was a gorgeous, out-of-time seven note riff played on a breathy tenor and repeated once, then fading tantalizing, just as the tune got going. I waited all day in my hospital bed just to hear that riff at the beginning and end of the 15 minute nightly installment – an ear worm of the most tenacious and welcome sort. I asked friends I thought could identify it, nothing; I wrote to the BBC, no reply.

About a decade later, I put on Stan Tracey’s Under Milk Wood and, wham, I was straight back in that hospital bed. It was of course the intro to Starless and Bible Black, one of the most beautiful, brooding, evocative tenor solos (and compositions) known to jazz, recorded in 1965 by a Scot in his late 20’s, who went on to play another half century’s worth of beautiful music. I never managed to get him to Jazz at Lincoln Center on my watch, which was our loss.

JACQUI HICKS

For me Bobby Wellins was one of the greats. He played the most lyrical lines with the most beautiful tone you’ll ever hear coming from a saxophone. The way he created space and didn’t waste a single note was pure magic. Working with him was a wonderfully musical (and humbling) experience. He made a little dream come true when he played on my album A Child Is Born. I could hear his sound as I was writing the arrangements but what he did on the day was everything, and then some. Always encouraging and enthusiastic, he inspired everyone who heard him. A lovely, lovely man who had a gift for telling stories and an even bigger gift for playing jazz. A national treasure who’ll be sorely missed.

TONY KOFI

I’d like to pay tribute to a great man Bobby Wellins who came into my life age 17 years old and gave me such a boost that the vibrations are still felt within me today. Thank you Bobby for all your encouraging words of wisdom, I would have probably given up had you’d not come to that weekend jazz course as a visiting artist all those years ago. You’ll be sadly missed, it was such an honour to call you a friend and mentor. R.I.P.

NIKKI ILES

For me, Bobby had one of the most distinctive sounds I’ve ever heard. Thinking about him now I can easily hear him and conjure up the essence of him. I was fortunate to work in a quintet with Bobby in the north along with my great friends Jez Hall, Gary Culshaw and Tony Faulkner. Jez had been taught by Bobby in his late teens and the whole family were very supportive of Bobby at the time. So … a quintet was formed – me in my twenties – and we worked sporadically for about 10 years. I knew at the time we were in the presence of a master. It was in Bobby’s slightly wilder days and on the stand it was a REAL education. Uncompromising and burning playing from Bobby – stretching us on every gig. That look and the right leg twitching with the groove …unbelievable to play with. When I look back, the fact that he never eased us in and expected a high level of commitment to the music, instilled a real sense of determination in me that continues to this day. He would have that glint in his eye after about 50 choruses on Cherokee full of ideas and forward motion – and then… over to me! I still have a thing about that tune and enjoy that roller coaster feeling, thinking of him every time. Recently I depped in Bobby’s quartet at the 606 for the great Liam Noble. I felt very moved to hear that sound again and it really hit home how much he had affected me in those early years and given me the courage to keep at it. Thank you Bobby… your music lives on.

KEITH LOXAM 

So many happy memories of working with Bobby Wellins. His personality matched his playing; lyrical, considered, joyful and evocative. Just a pleasure to be in your company Bobby.

DAVID MOSSMANN

Bobby Wellins was a great supporter of the Vortex and loved its intimacy. It was a family affair when he played, often coming his family. But he particularly brought fabulous music and made a point of working with young musicians. The consummate professional. He also often arranged for some of the greats to play at the Vortex with him. Nothing was too much trouble. And even though he obviously needed paying, the music came first. He had an amazing trademark tone – you knew if it was Bob immediately.

LIAM NOBLE 

Hearing Bobby Wellins is a great lesson. He tapped into the timeless tradition that looks forward and back at once. He was completely original and yet, if you listened hard enough, you could hear everybody in his sound. It was. It about being original, but about being personal.

I played him a track of Eugene Chadbourne once, an ostensibly comic and fiercely avant garde rendition of “Stars Fell On Alabama”. He fixed me with that glare we all knew so well and said “this guy’s a player”. Like Ellington, he saw music as happening or not happening, and so was up for a bit of rough and tumble on the bandstand. I never felt I knew him well as a person, but I have never felt so free as when he, I and Dave Wickins and Dave Whitford played to that 606 crowd, once a month (give or take) for almost twenty years. It was a feeling like no other.

BRIAN NOTT

Producing Bobby’s The Satin Album way back, was such a privilege. Smooth, quietly controlled, Bobby, along with Colin, Dave and Clark put together a magnificent few days of hard work to create the landmark album with all the sessions totally live, without any repairs, resulting in something so splendidly professional and rich. He was very very special and will most certainly missed by many. RIP Bobby and sincere condolences to Isobel and family.

JULIA PAYNE

It’s all Bobby Wellins’ fault… His quartet gig at Falmer Arts Centre at Sussex University back in 1990 was my first ever jazz gig. My reasons for going weren’t entirely honourable…It was Valentine’s Day, my partner in jazz crime was cute…You get the picture. But that gig sealed my fate. It was my ticket into a musical world that I’d never explored before, and I was hooked. Fast forward a few years and I landed a job at The Stables, the venue established by John Dankworth and Cleo Laine, and my jazz education – and love of the music – ramped up a gear. Moving onto the Barbican I worked with some of the biggest names in the business, and now – some 25 years after first seeing Bobby play – I’m lucky enough to be a board member at the National Youth Jazz Collective, persuading other young people to explore jazz. In all that time, I’ve never forgotten that first gig back at Falmer, and so today I’m just so sad. RIP Bobby, and thanks. I wouldn’t be here without you.

SHONA PEW

Bobby was an absolute sweetheart, and as a fellow Glaswegian, he always liked reminiscing about the old Glasgow and it’s music. It was a pleasure and a privilege to have worked with him many times in my BBC career. Your wonderful music will live on Bobby. Rest in peace.

SONNY ROLLINS

My good friend and colleague Bobby Wellins has graduated from this stressful life. A job well done, Bobby, and we’ll always remember Under Milk Wood.

STEVE RUBIE

Back in the late 60’s, when I was a keen schoolboy wind player, my brother came home with a record by a pianist I had never heard of (Stan Tracey) featuring a sax player who’s playing could best be described as magical. I was totally entranced by this music and pretty much wore a hole in the record. Little was I to know that more than 40 years on that sax player would be a close friend and a monthly regular at the 606 Club. I had the pleasure to listen for more than 15 years to those long, sinuous lines played with a sound and approach that was in every sense unique and unarguably creative. That wonder that I first heard all those years ago, even though I had heard Bobby play so many times since then, was undiminished and even the very last time I heard him I was still struck by how….magical….his playing was. A truly great player Bobby Wellins’s presence on the international jazz scene will be sorely missed, but his spirit will undoubtedly live on.

JULIAN SIEGEL

Bobby was a true gent and a total world class musician, a real one off. I remember so many times listening to him play, absolutely spellbound. The few times I got to play with him were always a huge education, what a groove and sound he had, with ideas always flowing with some hip turn of phrase, really his own thing. Plus it all swung like the ‘clappers’ ! Going to miss hearing him play live and miss big time his beautiful and encouraging presence on the Jazz Scene. RIP the guvnor, Bobby Wellins. Sending condolences to his family and friends

TOMMY SMITH

SIMON SPILLETT

When I heard the news from Spike Wells, I immediately put on ‘Starless and Bible Black’, not quite believing we’ll never hear THAT sound again. Bobby was so special – not just as a musician but as a man too. A real example of total commitment to the music through a series of often horrendous ups and downs, he never stopped creating individual, sincere and personal music, right up until a stroke ended his playing days. There was nobody like Bobby; that tone, the rhythmic feel, the lyricism, the boundless harmonic ideas – he was totally unique. Thanks for your friendship Bobby. I will treasure the times we spent together both on an off the stand. Your warmth, humour and priceless anecdotes will be much missed. Rest in Peace.

CLARK TRACEY

Bobby’s death has come as a shock to all of us. In the days since, I’ve been amazed at how widely he was respected not only as one of our finest musicians but also for his helpful nature and kind demeanour towards younger players. I remember Bobby from my earliest days – he and Stan were inseparable during the Sixties.

I was very privileged to be able to work with him for so many years myself. His sound just blew me away and the thought that I won’t hear that on the stand again is a painful one.

EMIL VIKLICKÝ

Bobby was incredible musician. What an energy, creativity, emotions and spontaneity. Once in Porthcawl – at the soundcheck in an empty room – we played Cherokee in break neck tempo. Just duet, tenor sax and upright piano. It was an outburst of sheer energy, musicality, flow of fresh ideas. I could hardly follow, and will never forget an intensive feeling that I am playing with Sonny Rollins. Yes, no doubt. Bobby was in that category of world class players. It was our first encounter – and only much later I have learned that Bobby was in fact highly respected by Sonny. Indeed, Bobby was “musician´s musician”.

DAVE WICKINS

I have known Bobby for 40 years and played in the Bobby Wellins Quartet for the last 20. It has been a privilege to work with someone who ranks among the world’s greatest saxophone players, with a unique, sometimes mournful sound and a deeply expressive and personal language.

To me Bobby Wellins was a dear friend who delighted me and my family with his humour, intelligence, compassion and great storytelling, not to mention his humility.

I remember my late father Norman Wickins eulogising about Bobby’s performance on one of our gigs, saying ” Bobby, how do you weave such wonderful lines? ” to which Bobby replied “pure genius, Norman, pure genius”.

Of course Bobby’s reply was tongue-in-cheek but I must say I agree with him.

Late set at the 606, Bobby would play I’m Wishing or Cabin in the Sky. Accompanying him then – a sublime experience.

I will miss him greatly.

KATE WILLIAMS

Bobby and I started working together regularly after we were invited to play a duo gig at St Lawrence Jewry Church one summer. This was the beginning of a musical partnership which continued for over 10 years. Bobby’s inspirational playing had total honesty and lack of pretension – his soulful tenor tone was beautiful, and his phrasing really danced. As a person, his mischievous wit was infectious. We would sometimes rehearse (after tea and cake) at his home in Bognor. Following one such occasion, we had a text exchange which went like this:

KW: “I can’t find that version of Favela – will keep looking. Choc cake recipe to follow soon”

BW: ” Forget Favela, we’ll stick with choc cake!!!”

And so it is with great sadness, but also many happy memories that I say:

Farewell Bobby, your unique sound will stay with me always – I can still hear Dream Dancing right now.

The post In Honour of Bobby Wellins’s 89th Birthday first appeared on UK Jazz News.

Laurie was kind, funny and a scurrilous gossip. He also happened to be a gifted man who wore his talents lightly without any fanfare. It was a privilege for me to work with him when I produced the Parkinson show at ITV and he was the Musical Director and the Leader of the last Big Band in captivity.

Before he died, he dictated an email to his daughter Abigail to be sent to me. He signed if off with ‘See you at the cricket Club’. The Cricket Club was Maidenhead and Bray where Laurie often performed alongside Kenny Lynch, another great talent lost to us, fundraising for the club and for a campaign to build a local children’s hospice. Sadly, he never got to make that date. But every time I am down there, I will raise a glass in his honour.

Joni Mitchell once observed that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. I can think of no better fitting epitaph for Laurie, except perhaps this foreword – reprinted below – that my Dad wrote for Laurie’s biography ‘Confessions of a Piano Player.’

Rest in Peace. You will be missed.

FOREWORD BY SIR MICHAEL PARKINSON FROM “CONFESSIONS OF A PIANO PLAYER” (*)

(*) Laurie Holloway’s autobiography – New Haven Publishing, 2022.

The post Laurie Holloway – A Tribute first appeared on UK Jazz News.

Art Mead was one of the unsung heroes of British jazz, one of the many behind-the-scenes supporters of the art form who make the jazz scene as vibrant as it is in spite of the cultural establishment. It’s an honour to record his contribution to jazz, and in particular to headline the fact that in 2007 he invented and established what became the prestigious Dankworth Prizes for Jazz Composition.

Art was a successful businessman, with a BSc in Physics & Mathematics, who loved jazz from an early age. Once he had sold Protech, the electronics company he had built from scratch with two friends, he was able to devote his time, energy, knowledge of jazz and independent means to supporting the music that he loved. His main vehicle for this was JazzOrg, a community-focused resource-sharing set-up based on a website which Art developed and coded personally in the days before WordPress & Wix. He used this to make youth band arrangements freely available to anyone who wanted them, along with a personal blog offering his thoughts on the jazz scene, always with a humorous twist and often with a Ronnie Scott joke. The site had achieved over 3 million hits by Art’s 80^th birthday in 2015.

Art’s most enduring jazz achievement was to establish the JazzOrg prizes for Original Jazz Composition for young composers, which eventually became the Dankworth Prizes (of which more later). A competent MD and bass player with the Mid Herts Jazz Orchestra and several other bands, Art took lessons in jazz composition from Allan Ganley, John Dankworth’s drummer for many years and a noted composer in his own right. This led him to establishing an annual competition for original jazz compositions by young musicians, for big band and small-to-medium ensemble, with cash prizes that Art funded personally along with general expenses. At that time I chaired the jazz committee of the Worshipful Company of Musicians; Art approached me to suggest that the prizes would be more prestigious if they were promoted jointly by JazzOrg and the Company, and – after consulting colleagues Leslie East and Tim Garland – I was delighted to agree a partnership approach with Art.

Les, Tim & I were greatly taken with Art’s personality and style; he was warm, businesslike, generous and clearly in it for the good of the music and not for any personal glory. Together we refined the concept in a series of conference calls and emails and agreed that the judges of the first competition would be Frank Griffith (an old friend of Art’s) and Tim Garland himself. We announced the first competition in early 2008, there was an adequate number of entries, and the winners were James Hamilton (Leeds College of Music, big band) and Nicky Jacques (Birmingham Conservatoire, small band). We were up and running !

Art being the engineer that he was, his immediate reaction was to improve version one and trial version two. Between us we came up with the following ideas : get the winner’s pieces played live as part of their prize at a concert in a prestigious location, increase the prize money, and get a big name to endorse the whole thing. That’s exactly what we did ! Simon Purcell (then Head of Jazz at Trinity Laban) and a member of the Company’s Jazz Committee offered a live concert by the Trinity Big Band under Malcolm Earle Smith, and Art suggested to me that John Dankworth (also a member of the Jazz Committee) might allow his name to be attached to the award. I was deputed to request Sir John’s permission; the conversation should go on the record, so here it is as it happened:

Nigel : John, we would like to re-name Art Mead’s award as the John Dankworth Award for Jazz Composition.

John Dankworth : No Nigel, I won’t let you do that. Call it the Dankworth Award for Jazz Composition: that way you get four for the price of one.

We approached Ronnie Scott’s Club with the idea that the winning pieces would be played as part of a Trinity concert playing John Dankworth’s wonderful Zodiac Suite in its entirety. With the strong support of Ronnie’s MD James Pearson, the concert took place on Sunday 26 January 2009 with JD and Art and his family in the front row; the prize-winning pieces by James Beckwith and Matt Roberts climaxed the first half. A fitting culmination for Art of a life supporting jazz.

The prizes have of course grown in importance and prestige since 2009, exactly as Art foresaw. The panel of judges now regularly includes Nikki Iles, Jason Yarde, Callum Au and Josephine Davies as well as Tim Garland and Frank Griffith. Importantly, the Dankworth Prizes were joined in the Musicians’ Company portfolio by the Eddie Harvey Jazz Arranger Award in 2014, funded by the Harvey family, who were impressed by the success of the Dankworth Prizes and felt that an award commemorating Eddie would sit nicely alongside them. Art of course concurred and was delighted to see the synergy between the awards grow as musicians like Billy Marrows and Charlie Bates won both.

Art and I became good friends as we worked together on the Dankworth Prizes, so when I became Executive Chair of NYJO in 2009 I regularly turned to him for advice and the opportunity to discuss things with a wise and experienced colleague. He generously sponsored a Chair in the orchestra and came to concerts and open days to see how NYJO was progressing; if I had a tough problem to resolve I would call him. He was the ideal consigliere – never diverted the conversation to himself, always put himself in my shoes and then offered objective practical advice.

I’ll leave the last words to Nikki Iles, who called me as soon as she heard of Art’s death. The word she kept using was “warm” – “ he was such a warm man, so unselfish, always interested in me and how I was rather than wanting to talk about himself. And he loved the music for all the right reasons.”

Jazz will miss Art Mead, and so will I. RIP.

The post Art Mead (1935–2024) first appeared on UK Jazz News.

My journey into world percussion as a student at Berklee was forever changed when I first heard Shakti’s A Handful of Beauty. Long before the internet allowed us to delve into details, the album opened my ears to sounds and rhythms that defied comprehension. One track altered my life: “Isis”.

This 15-minute masterpiece, set in a mind-bending 13.5-beat cycle, showcased Shakti’s revolutionary virtuosity. Featuring John McLaughlin on guitar, Zakir Ji on tabla, L. Shankar on violin, and T.H. Vinayakram on the ghatam, the piece pushed the boundaries of rhythm and musicality. Zakir’s free-flowing solo remains one of the most brilliant mosaics of sound and time I’ve ever encountered. Even now as I lecture on rhythm cycles, “Isis” is a cornerstone of my lessons – it is a testament to the scientific and spiritual beauty of music.

Inspired by “Isis”, I incorporate Solkattu recitation into my teaching. Using the 13.5-beat cycle, my students recite the pattern while playing a simple rock beat, marveling at how the two patterns rotate and expand the cyclic boundaries. Watching their discovery unfold reminds me of Zakir’s ability to make even the most complex rhythms feel accessible and alive.

As my percussion skills evolved, I connected with the classical Indian music community through mentors like George Ruckert (sarod, MIT) and Peter Row (sitar, NEC). Through them, I had the privilege of meeting Zakir Ji. At one gathering, Zakir conveyed his deep love of sound. “Jerry,” he said, moving his fingers as if playing air-tabla, “to this day, I am still looking for more ‘Na.’ The resonance and beauty of pure sound.” That simple yet profound statement reflected his endless curiosity and pursuit of perfection—a quality that inspired everyone who met him.

Ustad Zakir Hussain was far more than one of the great tabla players. He embodied the essence of a true musician—a “musician’s musician.” His mastery of Hindustani music seamlessly bridged into Carnatic traditions from the South.

Beyond his classical roots, his spirit flourished through collaborations with the likes of Mickey Hart, Herbie Hancock, and Béla Fleck, leaving an indelible mark on jazz, fusion, and world music. His contributions to Shakti, Planet Drum, and Remember Shakti redefined global music boundaries, blending cultures with unmatched finesse.

As Ustad Alla Rakha once said, when asked about his greatest accomplishment: “Zakir Hussain.”

Today, the world mourns the loss of a giant, but we celebrate a life that forever changed the way we hear and feel rhythm. Rest in peace, Zakir Ji. Your music will inspire, teach, and heal, transcending time and space.

Jerry Leake is a Professor of World Percussion at New England Conservatory and Berklee College of Music. He leads the world-rock-fusion octet Cubist and is a founding member of Boston-based band Club d’Elf. Jerry has also written eight influential texts on North and South Indian, West African percussion, and rhythm theory.

The post Zakir Hussain – A Tribute first appeared on UK Jazz News.

UKJazz News: Think back to when you first heard Roy Haynes… can you remember your impressions? 

Adam Nussbaum: The first recording I heard with Roy Haynes was probably Oliver Nelson’s The Blues and the Abstract Truth, which had an amazing band with Eric Dolphy, Freddie Hubbard, Bill Evans and Paul Chambers. I realised from the music, which was so good, that Roy had that ability to get inside whatever the music was and elevate it. After that, I started hearing him on lots of other recordings. One that really stood out was a gorgeous trumpet quartet record with Booker Little, Scott LaFaro and Wynton Kelly and Tommy Flanagan alternating piano. If you don’t know that record, Booker Little sounds incredible! He had a beautiful quality in his tone and his vocabulary was very special at that time. Then I saw him live for the first time at the Newport Festival in New York with his Hip Ensemble.

The thing about Roy is he had what I would call a ‘signature identity’; a ‘one in a row’. He arrived on the scene already formed with a sound and a personality that was instantly recognisable as his. He tuned his drums on the higher side and his internal drummer was also so strong that he could dance around the time, which kept the music very alive. But I think his greatest gift was that he was blessed with phenomenal ears. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realised that the best musicians are the people who hear the best. And Roy could hear in the cracks. That’s how he could get inside the music so that, whatever context he was in, he elevated it to a beautiful place. 

I have to refer to something I heard the wonderful drummer Kenny Washington say before Roy passed: What other drummer from the era of the forties would have been able to play on Chick Corea’s Now He Sings, Now He Sobs and sound so hip? He just brought so much life to it. Again, it was his incredible ability to get inside the music which he had from the beginning. 

UKJN: What about his style of drumming do you think makes him so identifiable on recordings?

AN: Some musicians have a lot of information within their vocabulary. But Roy didn’t have an amazing worked-out, traditional vocabulary. He was a self-made guy with his own, and he was able to use it in such a musical and audacious way. It’s not like you can sit down and practice 500 licks Roy Haynes played because there aren’t that many. The truth is, you don’t need a lot of information if you know how to put it anywhere you feel like doing it. 

He was from Boston and kind of set the standard for other drummers from there: Tony Williams, Alan Dawson, Clifford Jarvis and other great drummers that aren’t that well known from up there like Jimmy Zitano, Bobby Ward and Lenny Nelson all had a certain pop and clarity. I think you can hear it regionally with drummers from different places in the country, how each place has its own flavor and accent. It’s especially apparent when you hear drummers from New Orleans, but it’s anywhere you go – New York, Philly, Boston, D.C., Chicago – just like if you travel around the UK, people have different accents. 

UKJN: Are there any personal encounters you would like to share?

AN: Roy was once being interviewed at an International Association for Jazz Education convention, I think by Dan Morgenstern. I was in the audience with several hundred people and raised my hand. He saw me and said, Hey Nussbaum! What do you want?” I said, “Roy, when you were a kid, who was the guy in the hood who inspired you?” I asked him that because I knew there’s always someone early in your development, usually a direct contact, that affects you. His answer was the drummer Herbert Wright, who played with James Reese Europe and later stabbed him! And I said (laughing), “So Roy, that’s where you got that killer instinct!” 

In 1983, I got to play at the White House with Stan Getz, Jim McNeely and Marc Johnson in a concert hosted by Itzhak Perlman. Roy was also there with Chick and Miroslav Vitouš, and Dizzy too with his band. I ended up playing on Roy’s drums and got to hang with him, it was so great. Maybe 25 or 30 years later, I said to him: “Roy, I think I’ve figured you out… ‘You’re from the past, but you were born in the future”. He liked that. He was a real treasure. I feel very fortunate I got to have some nice interactions with him. 

UKJN: He was pretty much still active at 99. Did he ever discuss any secrets to his longevity?

AN: I think if you’re a musician with a natural gift and ability, this is something that’s a life force for you and it helps to keep you alive. I never really got into a discussion with him about it, but he always kept his ears open and always kept his eyes open. This cat was always dressed so slick, he looked so hip all the time. He didn’t take any BS, he cut right to the chase. He was an amazingly open-minded person. Somebody who just seemed to enjoy life. 

You know, there’s a thing old drummers say: “I saw Max [Roach] do it, I saw Philly Joe [Jones] do it, I saw Papa Jo [Jones] do it, I saw Klook (Kenny Clarke) do it. But I saw Haynes and he did it and did it and did it and did it.”(laughs) Which is absolutely true. 

UKJN: For anyone looking to get more familiar with Roy Haynes, which recordings do you recommend they begin with?

AN: As far as recordings, other than the ones I’ve already mentioned, there was that great one he first did on Prestige with Phineas Newborn and Paul Chambers, We Three. Another one I heard early on was a great recording with McCoy Tyner and Henry Grimes, Reaching Fourth, that came out on Impulse!. You hear that wonderful record he did with Stan Getz, Focus, where Roy is playing along with the strings, that’s a beautiful piece of music that Stan was improvising over and Roy was just so in there. Of course, the things he did with Trane when he was subbing for Elvin in 1963 were great – on Transition, he plays on “Dear Lord” and there’s that great version of “Dear Old Stockholm” – and then there’s also a snippet of recordings from May ’65 that originally came out on an LP called To the Beat of a Different Drum as part of a series called ‘The Mastery of John Coltrane’. That stuff is really incredible because he had a very different kind of sound to Elvin – they used to call him Mr. Snap Crackle – and it brought out another aspect of what Trane did. He also was associated for many years with the incredible Sarah Vaughan.

Thank god for recordings! Every time I heard him it was so wonderful and inspiring. I mean, who else in this world went from playing with Louis Armstrong to Pat Metheny and everyone in between? It’s hard to imagine who he couldn’t play with.

God bless him, man. Every time I think of him, I’m just gonna smile and, to quote that record he made in 1977, say thank you thank you. 

Charlie Rees is an English saxophonist, composer/arranger & journalist. He is also the Assistant Editor of UKJN.

The post Remembering Roy Haynes with Adam Nussbaum first appeared on UK Jazz News.

That was how I introduced myself to Lou Donaldson in 2003. I had just moved to NYC to go to college; at 17 years old I had already been working as a Jazz musician in Oklahoma for 5 years, so even though I was new on the scene in NYC, I felt in my heart that I was already a member of the Jazz community. 

I had gone to see Lou at the Village Vanguard that night and I introduced myself to him after his gig. He was packing up his horn in the kitchen, and he looked up at me and said, “What do you know about Charlie Parker?” That day I had been transcribing one of Bird’s solos so I started singing it to him, and after I sang a little bit Lou said to me… “Well, alright. Sit down.” So I sat down next to him and asked him to tell me a story about Charlie Parker, and he did. 

Over the next 21 years Lou became one of my closest friends. He helped me with my music, my career, my relationships, with everything. We never stopped talking about Charlie Parker, but as time passed it became apparent that our love of the music was not the only thing we had in common. We had similar ideas about life, similar values, similar ideas about most things. Even though we were 60 years apart in age I don’t think either of us ever thought that much about it. In fact, about 10 years ago we were driving in his car around midtown and he said, “oh remember such and such used to be on that corner?” And I said, “No. When was this?” And he replied, “Oh, 1963?” And I said, “Lou, I was born in 1985.” He looked at me and opened his eyes REALLY BIG and then he just started laughing so hard and said, “I forgot!!” 

Lou missed NYC so much after he moved permanently to Florida in 2020. That is the real reason we started organizing the birthday parties at Dizzy’s. I really wanted him to be able to come to NYC and see his friends and talk some shit with other musicians. I think he really enjoyed them, even though they were also bittersweet because they were such short trips for him. This year, when he told me he couldn’t come, I told him I didn’t want to host the party without him. In our industry, so many of our heroes only get big parties and big celebrations after they’ve passed, and I wanted him to be loved and celebrated while he was alive, present and could enjoy it. I wanted the party to be *for* him, and if he wasn’t there, I wasn’t sure I would feel right about it. He understood me, and he asked me to throw the party anyway. I’m so glad we did and I’m glad we were able to get him on the phone so he could hear us all sing “Happy Birthday” to him and we could hear his voice too. That was a great moment. 

Lou dedicated his life to pursuing excellence in our music and he succeeded; he was a master on his instrument and a true Jazz legend. I feel very lucky that I was able to have such an exceptional man as my friend.

When Lou passed away, Sonny Rollins told me, “Knowing Lou Donaldson was a blessing.” My sentiments exactly.

The post Remembering Lou Donaldson (1926-2024) first appeared on UK Jazz News.

 Back in 2015, the Royal Academy of Music bestowed an Honorary Doctorate on the ultimate ‘elder’, the incomparable Quincy Jones – and the Principal, Jonathan Freeman-Attwood,  asked me if I would mind ‘looking after him’ whilst he was in the building. Alongside accompanying him through the day and guiding him through the ritual of it all, I was also tasked with arranging some of his music to be played at the ceremony… so no pressure there. I was to spend a day with the great Quincy Jones!

I became aware of Quincy quite early on in my life (before his association with Michael Jackson put his name on everyone’s lips he was already a big deal with some of us) largely due to my schoolboy obsession with Frank Sinatra and Count Basie (‘It might as well be Swing’) and this led me to seek out the earlier albums that Quincy had recorded in Europe with his wonderful, though short lived American big band (featuring Clark Terry and Phil Woods) and when I had thoughts of becoming a film composer, I also began checking out some of his film scores (‘The Pawnbroker’ – ‘In the Heat of the Night’). I think it’s important to remember that Quincy had almost a quarter of a century of work behind him before he produced ‘Off the Wall’ for MJ! 

One of the things that always intrigued me – aside from his prodigious output as a composer/arranger – was his experience in Europe in the late 50s when he studied with Nadia Boulanger. Whenever he spoke about this formative time in Paris he would emphasise the rigour of her teaching and how it affected him. When asked what he learned from her he invariably answered “Counterpoint, structure, science, left brain”. Having read other accounts about her methodology it was clear that this was exactly what Quincy needed and wanted at that time. He said “She was THE lady. I learned so much from her – in New York they wouldn’t let you arrange strings if you were black – only horns or rhythm section…” he clearly wanted more. 

I’m not sure how many Jazz musicians she took on but apparently she said…  (according to Quincy – and I’m paraphrasing slightly) “I have to be careful with Jazz musicians because they tend to shack-up with music first and then they ‘formalise the relationship’ later.” In countless interviews he often returned to the same mantras… invariably quoting his old teacher… “You don’t have freedom in music until you have total restriction… restrict yourself and establish the periphery and then you have freedom in music.”  In his biography Quincy was even more emphatic… “When you have total freedom, you automatically create chaos. As a jazz artist, this was hard to swallow until I had to score films on a deadline.” Nadia Boulanger’s influence on him was clearly deep and lasting and he returned to New York invigorated by the experience. 

It is interesting how it seems fashionable now amongst some younger musicians to downplay any training they may have received. Perhaps the image of the naturally creative ‘autodidact’ is thought to be more marketable. Anyhow… the message from Quincy couldn’t be clearer… ‘Get the very best training you can!’

 My day with Quincy began on the steps of the Royal Academy – and from here we were ushered into the Principal’s office to relax whilst his assistant was taken through the geography and layout of the day to check that everything would be manageable for him. This meant that we had a good forty-five minutes together and although initially I was nervous I really needn’t have been. Quincy was interested in everything and everyone – and when I asked he talked a lot about his time studying in Paris and much more besides. It helped a little that I was in the middle of the Miles Ahead project with his oldest friend, Jon Hendricks – and able to pass on his regards. At one point – to the bemusement of everyone around us – we sang through the Oscar Pettiford tune ‘Swingin’ ‘Til the Girls Come Home’ and he talked about living in New York with both O.P. and Jon in the mid 50s. That must have been some hang! He also confirmed a story that Jon had told me of how, when times were hard, they would stand outside the Brill Building in New York and sell their songs for cash to those going in to work there. These are the small pieces of Jazz history that don’t make it onto the curriculum.

When the time came to move on to the proceedings Quincy was duly ‘gowned up’ and made ready for the ceremony to begin. He didn’t seem bothered by the formality of the event – in fact he was very relaxed about it all. I had arranged a big band medley of his ‘Stockholm Sweetnin’ and ‘Soul Bossa Nova’ and he very generously signed my score as we waited.

The buzz amongst all the graduates having Quincy in the building was palpable, and he could not have been more gracious to all those around him. The big band played really well and I think he was pleased to hear Stockholm Sweetnin’ – which he wrote when he was eighteen! There was a defining moment – after his citation had been read and his Honorary Doctorate presented – when he turned around to the students and raised his fist up high. To see one of the elders of our music stand astride the Halls of Academe like that, every inch the conquering hero – a Colossus even – was a moment I’ll never forget… my worlds had truly collided. 

 And then, after the ceremony, Quincy sat and had refreshments with all the students – it was all pretty relaxed. At one point he quietly flicked through my score page by page whilst we sat in silence. These moments stay with you.

      
And then he was gone. 

The postscript to this memorable day was that whilst we were holed up in the Principal’s office, Quincy gave me his card – and said to get in touch if I thought he could be of any help. I did get in touch and I did ask him for help. I needed to somehow get my choir, the London Vocal Project, to New York so that his old friend Jon Hendricks could hear us sing his Miles Ahead project – his lifetime’s work… fifty years in the making. Quincy came through! Wheels were quietly set in motion… access to funds, the email of his Travel Agent and a covering letter for each choir member to get us through U.S. customs (Trump had just been elected!). But that’s another story… 

The post My day with Quincy Jones… first appeared on UK Jazz News.