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My first musical recollection is standing in front of the class singing ‘Mull of Kintyre’ in my first year at primary school. A singing Nun encouraged me, and played the guitar. She was always having us sing during lessons, and a vase of rose buds we had in the classroom opened up one afternoon while we were singing, and Sister Elizabeth looked on in wonderment at the Godly spectacle. Singing became a regular part of my early years at school, along with piano lessons, but I’ll always remember my 6th birthday, as on that day, on August 16th, Elvis Presley had his last peanut butter and jelly sandwich and died. At the time, my brother was a big fan of Elvis movies, and he had stacks of Elvis Monthlies in his cupboard, which I read my way through while he was away at school. I was totally star-struck. I started collecting his albums, and sang along, curling my lip, jigging up and down…I did the Elvis impression. I wanted to BE Elvis. And then, because I loved all the little compartments inside the case, and because it looked like a reasonable thing to do, I took up the violin.
The Violin
Playing the violin took me out into the world almost as soon as my bow scraped the strings, and I started meeting other kids during music courses. By the time I was eleven I was playing in 2 orchestras and going along on Saturday mornings to the local music centre, where I did ear training and had violin lessons. A short while later, I joined the Kent Youth Orchestra, and I started falling in love with music and girls. I went away to Manchester when I was 14, leaving my local comprehensive school to go to Chetham’s School of Music, which I was expecting to be like ‘Fame’. It was a bit, but without the dancing and the bandanas and leotards, and there was no bad tempered old Jewish professor. But during my time there, the Elvis obsession endured, and my friend and I put on a feature length show with a band and dancers…it was like the ‘68 comeback special, with the routines and the lights and backdrops. Ah, my rose-tinted recollections. While all this was going on I was discovering so much music, from early Gregorian chant to Stravinsky, Berg, Beethoven…and amazing artists like Heifetz, Kreisler, Perlman, Richter, Perahia, Uchida, and so many more. This was all good food for my adolescent cravings.
London
I first came to London to study at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. I took up Jazz violin, and sang and jammed down at the Student Union bar. My friend, James Pearson, who is now one of London’s great jazz pianists, took me under his wing and taught me the tunes to Be-Bop greats like Ornithology and Donna Lee. I discovered Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett. I got quite excited by the idea of breaking out of the classical mould, while my violin teacher started getting concerned I wasn’t spending enough time practising Paganini and Bach. For me, practising Paganini was a bit like trying to juggle live cats whilst riding a unicycle backwards through a forest. In the dark. On the other hand, improvising and song writing was giving me both freedom and a perceived stability. I had my first gig as a jazz violinist down at a restaurant in Putney Bridge called Claro’s. My teacher, the late, great Lionel Grigson and a bass player from Argentina called Ricardo were booked to play there and needed a melody instrument, and I somewhat nervously agreed to join them for an evening. I had made it through the first set, and by the interval was feeling more confident, when they suggested going to their car for a smoke. Any doubts I had as to the potency of second hand marijuana smoke were firmly put to rest when we came back for our second set, and I tried in vain to follow the changes for ‘Now’s The Time’, an F major blues. I wished I was practising Paganini.
London Symphony Orchestra Part l
I somehow made it through my diploma recital, and started playing as an extra with the London Symphony Orchestra, which was the resident orchestra at the Barbican. My first gig with them was The Rite Of Spring, by Stravinsky. It was a mind-blowing experience. The level of intensity and focus among the 90 or so musicians on stage was extraordinary, and at times, overwhelming. By contrast I was playing in a piano trio with an Austrian composer, Norbert Zehm, who was also a pianist, and Kate Shortt, a multi-talented cellist. We played Norbert’s compositions in various venues in London, and toured Austria. This was a really important time for me, as Kate sat me down at the piano and helped me write my first song. I became moody and frustrated, like a proper musician. The songs were therapeutic. I felt the need to leave London for a while, so I grew my hair and a beard, and went to Canada.
The Banff Centre
I discovered this extraordinary place whilst waiting in the corridor to receive a telling off from Guildhall’s equivalent to Mr. Shorofski. I honestly can’t remember what it was for, but I was waiting around and reading some leaflets on a stand, one of which described this amazing Utopia for artists, who whether they were classical instrumentalists, jazz singers, ceramic pot-makers or sound-designers, could go there and just be. People from all over the world could converge there to share ideas. The allure was compelling. I hurriedly filled in the form there and then, and to my surprise was invited to go there for a 4-month winter residency. While I was there, I brushed up my skills on the violin, took improvisation classes and formed a band. I got stuck into song writing, and started arranging parts for whichever musicians that were around. Almost at the end of my time there, I was offered a try-out for a job as a lead violinist in the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra. I thought hard about the prospect, as I hadn’t intended to stay in Canada, but finally decided to go along and see how it felt. Winnipeg is one of the coldest cities on the planet, and I experienced a sense of companionship with my fellow musicians and friends that I’ll never forget. I stayed there for two and a half years, learning to play hundreds of symphonies and operas, not to mention the ballet season around Christmas, during which we played countless Nutcrackers and Swan Lakes. Bramwell Tovey, a fellow Brit and the musical director of the WSO, helped create amazing opportunities for me, which included giving me my own show as part of the New Music Festival. But after a while I felt it was time to return to London, and settle into a life I could call home. The LSO had offered me an audition, and I realised the time had come to face the music and go for a job.
Back in London and LSO Part II
The next ten or so years went by so quickly, it’s hard to imagine where the time has gone. But it’s been an exciting and enjoyable journey. I’ve worked with the world’s greatest conductors, solo instrumentalists and musicians, including Sir Colin Davis, Valery Gergiev, Bernard Haitink, Riccardo Chailly, Pierre Boulez, Daniel Barenboim, Maxim Vengerov, Anne-Sophie Mutter, I mean the list goes on……Dave Brubeck, John Adams, Deep Purple, Antony and the Johnsons, Seal, Elvis Costello. And to have seen so many cities around the world, touring with this wonderful orchestra, has been a fantastic experience. But about three years ago, my work with the piano trio came full circle, and we went back to Austria for a reunion tour and a recording. It was on this trip that I met Ralf Metzler, an Austrian producer, who I talked to about my life as a musician, and played him some demos of my songs. He offered me the chance to record a solo album in his state of the art studio in the middle of the woods in lower Austria, which I accepted, not knowing how I would finance the project, or whether I’d be able to get enough time out from the LSO to do it. Nonetheless, three years later we were sitting in Abbey Road’s famous mastering rooms with Adam Nunn, who did a great job mastering the album.
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