The Reunion Jazz Band and The ‘Band Aid’ of Jazz
I’m a little too young to have experienced the philanthropic musical phenomenon that was Live Aid. Organized by Bob Geldof in 1985, the iconic charity
I’m a little too young to have experienced the philanthropic musical phenomenon that was Live Aid. Organized by Bob Geldof in 1985, the iconic charity
I must be up front with you, reader, and confess that I’m no expert on jug bands—they never really piqued my interest. I guess I
Reader, you know I love a good pianist. And you know I love anything to do with France. So let me cut out the fluff
I was at Oxford Lindy Exchange last weekend, where British swing supergroup The Shirt Tail Stompers provided Sunday’s live dancing soundtrack. Before their set, bandleader
Over the five fascinating years I’ve been interviewing jazz musicians, a curious trend has emerged. It has interested, confounded and occasionally annoyed me—the last probably
I love the Mills Brothers. Any time I see one of their LPs in a charity shop I do a little “shoop-de-whoop-whoop,” accompanied by a
The Toddies are something of a supergroup. Led by celebrated stage composer Patrick Soluri on drums, the outfit boasts veteran bandleader Gordon Webster on keys,
I’m not much of a festival-goer, to be honest. I find myself getting a bit bored after two days of non-stop music and two nights
I’ve had a lot of unsolicited CDs lately, which have made up the bulk of my recent album reviews. And while it’s always nice to
I’d like to say that Britain is the spiritual home of jazz in Europe: we produced enduring heroes like Humphrey Lyttleton, Acker Bilk, Chris Barber,
For many musicians, the jazz life is a constant struggle for survival. The pandemic has only made things more difficult, with venues going bust or
Children’s music is trash, isn’t it? Take “Baby Shark,” or that Colomelon dross, or anything released by the cringeworthy cover factory Kidz Bop—it’s all a
I’m sure I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again anyway: the true joy of vinyl is not so much having some superlative sonic
Some records you really can judge by their cover. Take the latest release by Jane Scheckter, for instance. There’s a picture of Jane on the
Work has had me on the road a lot lately, so that new in-car MP3 player has been a lot of use. (Promoters, take note:
With the UK state pension now standing at 68 for people born in 1987—and likely to rise further, given our shambles of an economy and
YouTube is just full of surprises, isn’t it? For instance, today I learned that there’s a channel called Electro Swing Thing, which recently uploaded a
Behind every great man is a great woman, they say. Often she’s sitting on a piano stool, if my “forgotten ladies” features are anything to
Over Christmas, I bought myself a new car. Well, nearly new—enough that I drive it everywhere like a partially-sighted senior, terrified of even the lightest
“Oof.” That’s my one-word review of Angie Wells’ second album. What does it mean? Why, all manner of things… Oh, you want me to elaborate?
It’s tempting to think of LGBT acceptance and allyship as a very 21st-century phenomenon, distinct from the dark ages of yore when queer communities hid
This week I got a parcel from eBay. Inside was a tiny amplifier, only about 10 cm square by 5 cm high, but its impact
One of the great perks of writing for the Syncopated Times is that people are forever sending you records and imploring you to review them.
Very, very occasionally I receive fan mail from a reader who has enjoyed one of my articles. Often it’s about one of my “forgotten ladies”