Getting into their Stride....
Strange as it may seem, there are those that think
that The Hat talks too much. Yes, yes, I know it is an outrageous
notion, but, my friends, after all our years together I am prepared
to concede that it may be that there are some of you
who may occasionally go off the idea of Over-Long Sentences and the
Intrusive Capital Letter. However, I am confident that, in due
course, all will rejoin my faithful flock at Hat Mansions, once they
have had a small glass of Riggwelter Black Sheep, a snifter of Stoly
and listened to some decent Tedeschi Trucks. Nevertheless, here is a
little tip - already well known to Parents and Grandparents. If you want the
Noisy Little Darlings to shut up – Give them A Book.
I know many noisy embryonic musical
and literary talents that were conveniently and momentarily
side-tracked by Dr Seuss (and his Hat Cat) on those occasions when
Silence became Golden. Indeed, I have a good few relations who were
easily diverted from the toy xylophone, crash piano chords and metal
drum by the emergence of a battered copy of Maurice Sendak and last week's Guardian TV guide. They know who they are.
Bliss.
So, in all honesty, I am obliged to let you know
that I was Shut
Up for several days recently when I was kindly given a wonderful book to read. The slim volume in question is called The British Beat Explosion - maybe a bit of a misnomer - which effectively traces the history of the Eel Pie Island Club and the importance of its role in the development of British music. This is a magical book, in that, like a very Benign Pandora's Box, once it is opened you slowly realise that its contents have far reaching and revealing consequences – not least the continual revelations that - like the Six Degrees of the Kevin Bacon game – everyone you have ever heard of in the contemporary British music scene had some connection that led back to the days of The Island. What do Jeff Beck and Screaming Lord Sutch have in common? The Eel Pie club - known as Eelpiland to its members. Where, for a few shillings could you rub shoulders with Alexis Korner, the giant Long John Baldry, Julie Driscoll, Chris Farlowe, Eric Clapton, the Stones and a hundred others? The Eel Pie club. Much later on, Deep Purple, Pink Floyd, Bowie and Black Sabbath also joined that extraordinary roll call. Think of a name and there will be a connection to the island.
The book, through a collection of short essays, evocative photos and many personal recollections manages to both amuse and inform us on the history of this extraordinary delapidated island club that was the noisy and cramped crucible of so much blues, traditional jazz and rhythm and blues talent and future household names. The Hat spent a good few hours of his demented youth there, throwing shapes on the frightening sprung floor, falling in love with a hundred long haired interesting young women and jaw-dropping at the musical talent on the tiny stage - all the time, like everyone else - not realising that music history, myth and folk-lore were in the making. This is not the place to list the names that passed through those knackered doors and the little toll booth at the end of the island bridge. Suffice to say, if you are receptive to a short shot of our collective musical history, go look for this little gem. You'll get change from a tenner and be a lot wiser.
Up for several days recently when I was kindly given a wonderful book to read. The slim volume in question is called The British Beat Explosion - maybe a bit of a misnomer - which effectively traces the history of the Eel Pie Island Club and the importance of its role in the development of British music. This is a magical book, in that, like a very Benign Pandora's Box, once it is opened you slowly realise that its contents have far reaching and revealing consequences – not least the continual revelations that - like the Six Degrees of the Kevin Bacon game – everyone you have ever heard of in the contemporary British music scene had some connection that led back to the days of The Island. What do Jeff Beck and Screaming Lord Sutch have in common? The Eel Pie club - known as Eelpiland to its members. Where, for a few shillings could you rub shoulders with Alexis Korner, the giant Long John Baldry, Julie Driscoll, Chris Farlowe, Eric Clapton, the Stones and a hundred others? The Eel Pie club. Much later on, Deep Purple, Pink Floyd, Bowie and Black Sabbath also joined that extraordinary roll call. Think of a name and there will be a connection to the island.
The book, through a collection of short essays, evocative photos and many personal recollections manages to both amuse and inform us on the history of this extraordinary delapidated island club that was the noisy and cramped crucible of so much blues, traditional jazz and rhythm and blues talent and future household names. The Hat spent a good few hours of his demented youth there, throwing shapes on the frightening sprung floor, falling in love with a hundred long haired interesting young women and jaw-dropping at the musical talent on the tiny stage - all the time, like everyone else - not realising that music history, myth and folk-lore were in the making. This is not the place to list the names that passed through those knackered doors and the little toll booth at the end of the island bridge. Suffice to say, if you are receptive to a short shot of our collective musical history, go look for this little gem. You'll get change from a tenner and be a lot wiser.
And now Back to Noise..It is no secret that The Hat is a sucker
for a left-hand walking, driving or boogie piano base line. Indeed in
his formative years, the idea of a Life playing in barrelhouses,
dance halls and whore houses had a Certain Appeal to The Hat - only for the
notion to quickly dissipate on learning that Pinetop had gotten shot
doing this (although he did go on to live till he was 97!); also,
many of his mates died of alcohol and unmentionable diseases
and...er...dammit...there was the horrid intervention of Real Life in
the form of The Parental Curfew...
However, what has remained with me over the years
is how that comparatively simple left-hand piano form can excite a
live audience from the Very First Few Bars – unlike anything
else. This happens even if you are just listening to any of the recordings
of the 'old greats' that these days don't get much air time (Go try
out Meade Lux Lewis's 'Honky-Tonk Train Blues' or any Albert Ammons –
let alone Jerry lee Lewis and Winifred Attwell!!). More to the point,
if you happen - just in the UK - to get to see live playing by
Ben Waters, Axel Zwingenberger, Dale Storr, Daniel Smith,
Paddy Milner, Jules Holland - and a good few others far too many to
mention - and you hear that Left Hand strike up, my guess is that you
are Locked On Immediately. The terms open-hand, walking and stride
piano are all self descriptive but nobody seems to know exactly where
the expression 'boogie-woogie' came from. It's onomatopoeic of
course, and possibly dodgy down and dirty - but that doesn't really
matter. I guarantee that played 'live' it still gets to you Faster and right
where it matters from the very beginning. Every time. So here's
another tip from The Hat. When there isn't a book around for the small person,
point them towards the bottom end of the keyboard. And, just like a piano-based 1920s Kevin Bacon Six Degrees Game everything will always lead back to that wondrous thing once called
The Left Hand of God.
Ok, in the Interests of Balance, I'm off down the Library now for a Self Help
book on brilliant Left Hand God-Like opening Guitar breaks – that's if they
haven't closed it down as another government saving while I've been here - of course, Talking Too Much........
Pip Pip!
The Blues Man in The Hat
Big pic thanks and cream cakes to Georgia, Oscar and Charlie for showing us their style!