Just the other day, in one of those quick-fire Q&As beloved of newspaper editors, that fine actress Anna Chancellor was asked if there was any art form that left her cold. Her answer? “British jazz. It makes me think of warm beer and white men with beards.” That's a bit rich coming from someone who got her break in Four Weddings and a Funeral, the last word in warm, homegrown Liebfraumilch.
But I do know what she means. There certainly was a time when too many musicians in Britain were content to offer bland facsimiles of bigger, brasher American styles. Still, if Chancellor dropped into a club to hear some of the newer generation she might change her mind. Neil Cowley is more like a pint of absinthe, Gwyneth Herbert hasn't grown a beard yet and Robert Mitchell was still black the last time I saw him.
Killer Shrimp are another band to bring something fresh to the table. At first sight, the saxophonist Ed Jones and trumpet-flugelhorn player Damon Brown might seem to be leading just another crew of hard bop wannabes, still chasing the shadow of Art Blakey & Co. But it doesn't take long to sense that, while it name-checks the likes of Tadd Dameron, the quartet has a character all of its own. With no pianist anchoring the rhythm section, the frenetic drum and bass lines - provided on this night by Alyn Kosker and Geoff Gascoyne - generate waves of energy that can carry the group close to the stormier waters of the avant-garde but without jettisoning the underlying pulse. Latin riffs and R&B hooks are artfully assimilated.
But I do know what she means. There certainly was a time when too many musicians in Britain were content to offer bland facsimiles of bigger, brasher American styles. Still, if Chancellor dropped into a club to hear some of the newer generation she might change her mind. Neil Cowley is more like a pint of absinthe, Gwyneth Herbert hasn't grown a beard yet and Robert Mitchell was still black the last time I saw him.
Killer Shrimp are another band to bring something fresh to the table. At first sight, the saxophonist Ed Jones and trumpet-flugelhorn player Damon Brown might seem to be leading just another crew of hard bop wannabes, still chasing the shadow of Art Blakey & Co. But it doesn't take long to sense that, while it name-checks the likes of Tadd Dameron, the quartet has a character all of its own. With no pianist anchoring the rhythm section, the frenetic drum and bass lines - provided on this night by Alyn Kosker and Geoff Gascoyne - generate waves of energy that can carry the group close to the stormier waters of the avant-garde but without jettisoning the underlying pulse. Latin riffs and R&B hooks are artfully assimilated.
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