Almost from as young as I can remember I was scrambling up onto the stool of our old family piano and plinking away to myself ; I certainly used to scrap with my twin sister about whose turn it was on it. We all grew up making music, but oddly enough without a record player in the family so that I got introduced to a lot of music quite late . What I did hear would often make quite an impact at the time; I once picked up a few old 78’s from the 40’s including “You always Hurt the One You love” from our school jumble sale (- I think they got turned into frisbees soon after but they would have been worth a few quid now.) One of the artists was Spike Jones and His City Slickers. I raced round to borrow my gran’s old wind-up gramophone and vividly remember how Spike’s comic brilliance completely blew me away; I have always had a soft spot for humour in music ever since.
During my
teens I sang in our local choir and was variously in a Glen Miller
style band and a jazz orchestra on trombone, aside from a mate’s
typical jamming rock band where we mucked around with Free covers. The
Glen Miller outfit gave me a rare early experience of gigging life with
its highs and lows as we were in much demand. By more sheer good luck
I got to study music very intensively through school which gave me a great
helping hand later on. I was learning to arrange for brass and sax at
this time and trying out the arrangements in school concerts with a cobbled
together bunch of lads doing Stevie Wonder stuff and bits of this and
that . At college I studied trombone, piano and composition. I ended up
being a bit cheesed off with trombone due largely to being stuck with
a pretty crap worn out instrument with a tone like a fart in a collinder.
(A word of advice to anyone starting off with an instrument or getting
a youngster going on one- find the best you can afford, then buy the next
one up from that; everyone needs a bit of inspiration from the instrument
they’re playing!)
How did you get into playing double bass?
No, it wasn’t
the last instrument left in the school music room cupboard as some people
think. One day I spied one lurking in the corner of a college practice
room. It must just have been returned from somewhere. Trying it out I
thought to myself “this looks pretty damned easy, you just twang
the bugger.” So I started teaching myself . Our college chaplain,
Reverend Ron, used to haunt the music department playing some slightly
kack-handed stride piano, and soon signed me up into his folk and trad
jazz combo as bassist. “What do we do about sneaking this instrument
out of college each gig Ron?” I asked him once.
“Leave the porters to me” he replied, and we would waltz the
thing past the the lodge gates with a cheerful wave in the evenings, after
the music staff had all gone home. The “Rev” actually wore
Elvis-type leathers complete with medallion and cowboy boots habitually
every day so this was just another quirk in the eyes of the porters.
2/
“Right you are Reverend, a jazz night is it? You’ve got permission
you say? Okey-dokey!”
We’d strap it to the back of his open-topped Lotus with a red rag
thoughtfully tied onto the neck of the instrument to avoid braining fellow
students on their bikes then off to a local boozer or somebody’s
party.
Ah, happy days. Reeling forward now several years I had to leave this new-found musical, great big wooden love of my life after completing college to do a sting of badly paid but highly entertaining jobs in out-of-the way places. Eventually I settled down to real work and saved enough to afford my first legitimately owned double bass. In the 80’s double basses were as rare as rocking horse shit; how I tracked down this cheap and cheerful Eastern bloc instrument -“Bessie” (which I still have) is a long-winded story in itself, but it opened up several band opportunities on the folk scene initially; I joined the band of the Appallatian step- dancing team “Feet First” and eventually teamed up with the singer Judy Dunlop, both great chances to work creatively on dance and song arrangements.
Let’s take you right up to the Dizzy Club. How did all that happen?
It was in
the mid 80’s that I first met Pat Walker. I was just beginning to
explore Sheffield and had chanced upon the Irish pub Fagan’s, where
the word was that there was a playing session most nights of the week.
I strolled in one Friday night just to look in and found practically an
orchestra settled into the back room, instruments being de-bagged for
action. Everyone was huddled in cramped bon homme. I was instantly glad
I’d not tried to shoe-horn Bessie in on this first encounter. Significantly
one chair stayed central and empty, as if a budget filming of Mastermind
were about to strart. Thirty minutes later a hippy type in a vest with
long flowing locks sauntered in to much greeting, got passed a pint, pulled
out his fiddle and kicked off a fabulously flowing session of traditional
tunes. How cool a kick-off is that? ! I thought to myself. The night took
off with all the magic of talented and responsive players bouncing new
tunes and ideas off each other, the way the best sessions should happen,
a mixture of tune and song. Soon I started to drag my bass in early in
the next few visits and get it positioned out of people’s way ,
getting to know more familiar faces including Tom and Barbara, the landlord
and landlady who set up such a unique venue for all this talent. I could
only find time to come over periodically, but the regulars were very generous
to this sudden booming addition to their traditional sound; it would be
fair to say that double basses at the time were a rare event in Irish
sessions and probably caused mixed reactions. Pat seemed happy and encouraging
enough.
Then one evening a dishevelled looking guy I had not seen before in a
mack checked out the hooley.
“John, give us a bit of jazz will you?” called out Nick and
the bloke was duly handed a guitar. Nails obliged the sea of faces with
a stylish rendition of ‘Lady is a Tramp’ with Patrick accompanying,
and I’d picked up on his solid style, adding a bass line by the
second verse. The whole thing sounded immediately natural and swinging
to my ears albeit inevitably rough round the edges as any jam is going
to be. I think we must have all three reached the same quick conclusion
that evening as John wasted no time in making his aquaintance with me
and the next thing I knew we were recording a couple of numbers in a local
studio. But what to do about a name? I had mentioned a favourite Celtic
/ jazz crossover outfit called the Easy Club and somehow the adjective
Dizzy seemed to replace Easy with effortless inspiration from someone
or other. It has had that rare distinction amongst band names of always
seeming a good choice ever since- especially with the characters of the
personnel so far in it! Anyway I like to think it was conjured up sitting
round one of Fagan’s little back room tables over a round of beers
in the comfortable fug of my favourite pub-I don’t exactly remember
to be honest. Soon rehearsals were taking place amongst the packed nappies
of John’s warehouse business on the Parkway industrial estate. We
had no PA to call our own but that didn’t stop us doing our first
gig at the Slug and Fiddle on Eccleshall Rd with some ridiculous botch
job for a PA. It makes us laugh looking back! We didn’t get booed
off- neither did we get knickers thrown at us come to think of it but
we caught the jazz bug for sure. Soon John had recruited Colin Elliot
and Andy Cooke on percussion and drums and the distinctive Dizzy Club
sound was taking shape. (These two guys have subsequently moved into the
fast lane working as part of Richard Hawley’s backing band, alongside
Mark ‘Shez’ Sheriden and Jon Trier, both of whom were with
the Dizzies in later years- we are really proud of them all!) More recently
Dunc Annibel has joined us, bringing with him all his talent, raw energy
and whacky enthusiasm. (He’d better say something nice about me
in his bit now!)
I’m sure he will Mike! Any thoughts on the band’s development over the years?
I will leave the eleven or so years of albums, gigging and occasional tours to someone else to be quizzed on, but I’m sure we’d all agree that we’ve learned a great deal and had one hell of a ride so far through the ups and downs of mates playing together for such a long time; I wouldn’t have missed any of it for the world!
To Email Mike