Double Take

Rowena J Ronson

There is more to life than words and music... so some of the issues that don't get covered on this blog will now be appearing in a new online magazine called Double Take, which aims to make you think twice about things...

Writing and editing can be a lonely business. It usually has to be, because collaboration is not always easy.

The only writer I've ever been able to collaborate with successfully is Rowena J Ronson, who is co-editing the new magazine with me.

I think we make a good team because we are different and because we challenge each other.

And I think we also bring out the best in each other's writing... give Double Take a read and see if you agree.

Fighting For Life

In a bizarre coincidence, two of my children came close to something dreadful happening to them in two completely separate gas leak incidents in the past few days.

And I also found myself helping to tend to a close friend who had collapsed suddenly and had to be taken to hospital.

Inevitably, such incidents remind us of the fragility of our lives.

It was sad to hear of the death of Pat Pilkington (above), a remarkable woman who, along with Penny Brohn, helped found the Bristol Cancer Help Centre (now Penny Brohn Cancer Care).

Pat, whom I had the privilege to meet and interview, was in a way an "ordinary" woman who did extraordinary things, making so many people take a second look at the ways in which we had been conditioned to deal with cancer.

She was the best kind of revolutionary: quiet, effective, steely, charming, successful and modest.

Kofi Time

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Kofi Baker. Not literally, but with his excellent drum tuition book, The Forgotten Foot. 

The drummer’s forgotten foot is, of course, the left foot – unless you’re left-footed (in which case it’ s the right one).

And Kofi is, of course, the son of the legendary Ginger. Whether they are speaking to each other these days, I don’t know. Kofi said a while back that their relationship was “distant”.

But one thing that unites them, apart from that distinct Baker drum sound, is their appreciation of the left foot as time-keeper.

For many of us of the rock persuasion, the left foot just sort of follows on in there with the left hand. But if you come from the jazz direction, the left foot on the hi-hat is the crucial master control – the original click track

Once this fact is grasped, the left foot becomes the linchpin rather than an add-on.

Ginger’s left foot – on hi-hat or second bass drum, or on both of those at the same time (in what is known as pedal-bridging) is a marvel, and I’m beginning to find the joy in having that left foot taking on a life of its own, inspired by watching great jazz drummers and particularly my mentor, the great John Marshall.

I’m also indebted to Kofi for his book and its wonderful exercises for every foot and hand. He comes over as a modest man with a true passion for the drum kit and its infinite possibilities. And he deserves to be remembered for Forgotten.

Opportunity Begs

Some opportunities are just too good to turn down. And some are just too awful to accept.

My main band, Russ Payne and the Shark Dentists, like to play festivals – not that we don’t enjoy playing the usual circuit of pubs, clubs and parties.

Having just finished a string of festival gigs, we were offered another. All we had to do was fill in an online application and pay a $10 fee – and the application form made it clear that if we played the festival, there would be no cash payment for “this opportunity”.

It’s insulting enough to be paid nothing, but even worse to be asked to pay $10 to be paid nothing.

If you want to see a line-up of bands who are so desperate for a gig that they are willing to pay to play, this will be the festival for you.

Musicians are good at selling themselves short. And I was just reminded of that fact by Stevie Freeman at the excellent Union Music in Lewes, East Sussex, one of the independent record stores that is stocking the new Russ Payne and the Shark Dentists album, ‘In Love With Trouble’.

I said we were happy to sell the album for £7. Stevie said it should be £10: “You shouldn’t sell yourselves short.”

She’s right, of course. 

We can all do better...

Country Girl

When my younger daughter was born and we settled on naming her Nevada Rose, I said that sounded like a great name for a country singer.

I couldn’t have forecast that 19 years later she’d be front of stage with her guitar and her beautiful voice... and with me on drums in the band backing her up.

One of the songs she was playing at this one-off performance was “Jolene” – but a much darker reading than Dolly Parton’s - so yes, my country singer prophecy sort of came true.

Except that this particular “country singer” has mastered piano, violin, organ and sax, and also the composing and conducting of classical and choral music.

And all that I definitely couldn’t have forecast... any more than all the rest that is still to come from this remarkable musician.

Greta the Great

Music is emotion incarnate. And sometimes it is almost too much to take in.

Despite the fact that I am no cricket aficionado, I found myself in The Long Room at Lord’s the other night for a Britain-Australia Society/South Australian Cricket Association dinner that marked not only the start of the Ashes matches but also the fact that some of the relics of Sir Don Bradman were on show in the MCC Museum.

I knew enough about The Don – as even we cricket non-aficionados call him – to get a buzz from seeing his bats and his blazer and his mum’s scrapbook of press cuttings.

But that was nothing to what was to come.

For The Don’s grand-daughter, Greta Bradman, was at the dinner. And she was there to sing. Which is something of an understatement. She is an accomplished operatic soprano with a voice whose power is such that one can scarcely believe it comes from her slight body.

The intensity of her voice stopped time in The Long Room, with the backdrop of the great cricket ground behind her, and a portrait of Sir Don looking down upon the scene.

And when she went from the classics to When You Wish Upon A Star without skipping a beat, the feeling that filled her and every one of us listening was electric.

Emotion. Music. Love. Greta Bradman exudes them all.

Friends Electric

I really love Brighton Electric studios.

I often hire a room there for solo drum practice. Because it's reasonably priced. The drum kits are good. And the staff know what they're talking about. It's a warren of studios, with bands of all sorts (but mainly young and loud) coming and going at all times.

The other day I did an early-morning session there before taking the train from Brighton into London for work, leaving my car near the studio.

I didn't get back until really late that night. And as I walked past the Electric, I could hear the sound of drums coming through the windows.

It was a great sound and produced a great feeling...

I'd done the morning shift and now someone was doing the night shift.

This is a music factory, where the music is a constant, and the people who come in for an hour or two hours or a day are the factor that is ever-changing.

A bit like the world...