A foot in both camps

If you thought it was cold north of the Arctic Circle – think again. If the long winter nights are getting you down in that Antarctic research station. Forget it. On Saturday there was only one place to be:

  The coolest place on earth

Yeah, that’s Chelsea man.

As I was waiting for Larry Stabbins new band, while the roadies were setting up, the feedback sounded like gunfire. All around there was a silence for a moment while all the gangsters and their bodyguards jumped out of their skins in the luxury restaurants and jewellery shops all around us.

I was watching a stage set in the long space between two luxury blocks of flats in ‘new Chelsea’ – thieves town.

I was so struck by the similarity with the 1980’s – which for some people was all about making (stealing) as much money as they could, as quickly as they could get away with it.

Other people like me were fighting back – on picket lines and on the streets. Mostly battles lost, which is why things are so bad now. Sorry about that, we tried our best.

And while the music reflected the lust for cash, there were some rebels, even after Punk was dead.

There was a vibrant Jazz dance scene – a Black and White groove, on the edge and late in the night. The bands that wrote the soundtrack to those nights made their money by day playing for the rich, by night playing for us.

Working Week (I’ve written about them before) were the best and the most political. Larry Stabbins was uncompromising on the Sax.

And here he is:

 

When the band fired up, the first piece was full of the Latin rhythms, the fire and Stabbins screaming Saxophone. I was back in time. Back in Kentish Town, back at Ronnie’s. That sound was unmistakable.

Zoe Rahman was electrifying on piano, worthy of her recent Music of Black Origin (MOBO) award, while the Conga playing and the drums were a treat.

The Week had a foot in both camps, always a dangerous place to be.

It was over far too quickly for me with ‘Soul Train’, a great Working Week set piece, full of rhythm and life.

My friend turned up as Zara McFarlane was getting in full swing and he got a table for me right up at the front – ringside seat!

Here she is:

 

It was a blend of Soul and Jazz that was right for dusk, and she's a bit of a Diva:

 

And for good measure I can’t resist putting in this beautiful shot:

 There’s more to come. The night had hardly started.

Neil Harris

(a don’t stop till you drop production)

Working Week.

I should be getting my questions and research ready for Wednesday, which is when I get to see the clinician from Accident and Emergency at St. Peters Hospital to discuss my ankle. And because I’m not looking forward to it I’ve been putting it off.

Instead I’m already looking forward to seeing Larry Stabbins on the saxophone again after so many years.

The 1980’s were two decades, no actually it was just one decade; it was the people who were divided into two. There was the ‘loads of money’, Thatcherite/Raygunite 80’s and then there were people like me who were on the other side, broke and fighting back.

Simon Booth and Larry Stabbins seemed to bridge both worlds – a dangerous place to be. ‘Working Week’ was a jazz/soul collective that became a really trendy outfit. It started out attracting a young crowd of jazzers who didn’t go for the rather studious (and boring) world of British jazz. This was a whooping, Latin, afro-Caribbean, jazz dancing, left wing, influenced bunch of people interested in a new kind of jazz – lively and full of life.

Their best work was the 12 inch version of ‘Venceremos’ a piece in celebration of the life of Victor Jara (singer/songwriter murdered by Pinochet’s fascists) and intended as a fundraiser for The Chile Solidarity campaign.

Apart from about 4 minutes of frantic percussion, there’s also great lyrics, and guest vocals from Tracey Thorn, Robert Wyatt and the Chilean Claudia Figuerra.

Amongst their greatest hits are ‘Don’t touch my friend’ an anti-racist anthem written for a French campaign which saw the band play in front of a quarter of a million marchers on the Place de la Concorde, ‘Sweet Nothing’ an anti-capitalist anthem, Stella Maris which was fantastic live and many more besides.

I saw them at Ronnie’s and a couple of other times. I didn’t see them at the Wag club or the other fashionable places they also played.

Really they were a live band – the records don’t cut it. You can check them out on you-tube although those are mainly TV studio performances.

In the end they disintegrated – as did the ‘jazz revival’. Simon Booth got into financial problems and escaped to live in the German Democratic Republic for a while before he changed his name and came back.

I lost track of Stabbins – now I’ve got a chance to catch his new band.

As long as I don’t lose my temper on Wednesday.

Neil Harris

(a don’t stop till you drop production)

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