PAUL
VERNON CHESTER
Manouche Maestro
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Manouche Maestro |
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26th January: 1946 Django arrives in the UK with Naguine & Babik and is greeted by Stephane Grappelli.
31st January '46 - Abbey Road Studios, London.
The Abbey Road Recorded 'English Quartet' of
Le Quintette had been a long-established ensemble with a distinctive style, and yet these recordings were made with only two of its original members. Hugh Palmer observes, “It says much for the London-based musicians present on this session … that they were able to blend in so well.” At least two photographs of these sessions were taken, and they appear in The Guitar Style of Django Reinhardt & the Gypsies by Ian Cruickshank. In both of them Jack is obscured by Grappelli. The publicity-shy Jack no doubt felt that Grappelli was doing him a favour. Eight tracks, including a new recording of Reinhardt’s composition Nuages were recorded. These are celebrated recordings that feature time and again in jazz compilations. They are significant in the sense that they represent almost the last recordings made by le Quintette in “the great tradition”: the following year saw Reinhardt favouring the use of the electric guitar. The reformed Quintette continued intermittently to play and record together until 1948. It has been said that their performances were often quite brilliant but their popularity was gone. When Reinhardt died prematurely in 1953, BMG carried an obituary that included tributes from “well known guitarists” including Jack. In his tribute Jack describes himself as a great admirer and friend of Reinhardt and comments “He will always be remembered for his contribution to single-string playing as we know it today”.
Allan Hodgkin's BMG Article on Django's 1946 Visit and his Petite Bouche Guitar Alan Hodgkiss in conversation with Ike Isaacs. I was having a conversation with guitarist Allan Hodgkiss-who will be remembered by many, I am sure, as an excellent guitarist who played with Stephane Grappelli in the mid-forties and also knew Reinhardt personally. Allan is now not only a teacher of guitar, but also an authority on modern art, and he stresses the importance of form, whether musically or in art and asserts that any great performance is so complete in its form that any addition would certainly be superfluous; and taking anything out would give a sense of imbalance. He also spoke of the necessity of self expression in the arts; the completeness of an artistic person’s development has to embrace many of its aspects and therefore the inter-relation of the art forms should be experienced and understood by the musician if he wants to mature. Alan holds art classes in which he encourages well known musicians to express themselves through painting, and it is becoming apparent that this other stimulant is having advantageous results on their musical performance, too! January 31, 1946 Swing, London Django Reinhardt and the Quintet of the Hot Club of France with Stéphane Grappelli Stéphane Grappelli (v); Django Reinhardt (g solo); Jack Llewellyn, Allan Hodgkiss/Hodgkins (g); Coleridge Goode (b) Coquette, Django's Tiger, Embraceable You, Echoes Of France, 1st February '46 - Decca Studios, Broadhurst Gardens.
Quintet of Hot Club of France Stéphane Grappelli (v); Django Reinhardt (g solo); Jack Llewellyn, Allan Hodgkiss/Hodgkins (g); Coleridge Goode (b) Love's Melody, Belleville, Nuages, Nuages(2), Liza (All The Clouds'll Roll Away) I Meet Reinhardt – By Sam Adams (BMG) - DJANGO REINHARDT in England
January 31 and February 1 in 1946 will live long in my memory, for on those two days I attended in London two recording sessions of the Quintet of the Hot Club of France and spent about nine hours in the company of one of the greatest creative artists the jazz world has ever known. For these sessions, the instrumentation was the same as the original quintet: in addition to Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelly, there was Jack Llewellyn and Allan Hodgkiss on guitars and Coleridge Goode, on bass. The first session (which I attended, by kind permission of Walter Moody, recording manager of the E.M.I. group of companies) was for the French “Swing” label and the titles waxed were “Embraceable You,” “Coquette,” “Tiger Rag” and the “Marseillaise.” (Abbey Road Studios) The second session was for the Decca label and the sides waxed to be issued in this country. The titles were: “Love’s Melody,” “Belville,” “Nuages” and “Liza,” the first three being Django’s own compositions. Famous jazz authority, Charles Delauney, was responsible for bringing Reinhardt to England and kindly acted as interpreter whilst I held a series of conversations with the maestro. “Could you get strings, etc., during the occupation?” I asked. Reinhardt shrugged and giving an enigmatical smile, replied, “Yes, I could get strings!” Apparently other guitarists were not so fortunate. “How did the Germans treat you?” was my next question. Through the ever-present Delauney, Django explained how the Germans had asked him to play in Berlin, but he had quoted and impossible fee, which they refused to pay. When they grew more insistent and hinted at compulsion, he disappeared and wandered the French countryside carrying only his guitar. He returned to Paris months later. I then asked him for his views on the electrically-amplified guitar. Yes! He had played the electric guitar for a few weeks, but did not like it as it would not reproduce what he described as the “human tone”. Yes, he did listen to other guitarists and liked Bunn and Christian. His own favourite musicians were Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong. Hid main interest nowadays was in classical music, especially the modern composers. I then handed him a copy of the “Reinhardt Discography,” and, as he turned the pages, memories were obviously evoked, for he smiled sadly as he remembered the happy times in the recording studios before the war. I then examined his battered guitar. Django told me had had it eight years. It certainly showed signs of wear and little of its original polish remained. The strings were extremely light gauge and when I played a few chords I was amazed at the lowness of the action. The plectrum Django uses is the usual pear-shaped pick, of medium size, extremely thick and with a heavy bevel. The case in which Reinhardt carries his guitar is sadly knocked about. The original handle is missing and is replaced by a piece of wire. What covering the case formerly possessed has long disappeared. Django shrugged expressively when he saw me looking at the case. “Cest la guerre,” he said. Incidentally, he had not brought any spare strings with him and when one snapped during the “run through,” Jack Llewellyn came to the rescue. FUTURE PLANS About his future plans he would say nothing. Delauney explained that Django’s movements were unpredictable, for if his fancy dictated he might suddenly decide to return to France and forget all about the proposed tour of England. Without any request from me, Reinhardt suddenly produced a fine studio portrait of himself and laboriously wrote my name on it and autographed it for me. As he handed me the picture and shook my hand, my feelings were indescribably. But I was to experience more ecstatic moments later when the recording session was well under way. It is impossible to put into words the thrill of hearing Reinhardt playing “in the flesh.” Under ideal studio conditions, with just two or three people present, apart from the accompanying musicians, Reinhardt was completely relaxed and I was able to observe him in many moods. Between numbers he would rhapsodise on his guitar, or whistle softly to his own accompaniment to illustrate a point to the band. PLAYING FROM THE SOUL Completely lost to his surroundings, Django puts his very soul into his playing. Again and again he goes through a number until the final master has been committed to wax to everyone’s satisfaction. He then relaxes in his chair – beads of perspiration on his brow – and strums thick harmonies to himself, a smile spreading across his face as he notices the awestruck look on the faces of the rest of the band. Well, all good things mush come to an end, and, too soon for me, the final number was consigned to wax. The time had come for me to bid a reluctant 'au revoir' to Django Reinhardt, leaving me with a memory of a wonderful experience. Acknowledment to Phil Jones for his offer of this March 1946 BMG article - http://www.bebops.co.uk Nuage Takes 1 &
2 at Decca Studios
Django was rushed to the French Hospital in 'London' (but which one) for treatment on a recurring throat problem. Numerous concerts and BBC radio appearances are then cancelled. - Here in bed - Grappelli and Beryl Davis attend. The French Hospital in Victoria Park Hackney, was found a new home after being requisitioned and damaged during the War. Django was no Huguenot or Protestant but clearly a celebrity. The French Hospital, Coleridge George Emerson Goode -
Bass
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Re-united 1946
Jack Llewellyn
Django
tuning his guitar at Boeuf sur le Toit, 1947