I'm lucky enough to live not too far from jazz pianist Marco Marconi, and one of my first forays into jazz improvisation was at his "Introduction to the Blues" starter course at Benslow Music a few years ago. He came up to me at the course and suggested I take private lessons in improv. as we both lived in the same town. "Come on, it'll be fun!" he said. About a year later, I got it together to call him, and went for jazz lessons for about a year and a half. It was fun -- until lockdown hit. Zoom lessons didn't cut it for either of us, so we had a bit of a break. I called him again in September 2021, feeling like I needed a bit of a reboot once Covid restrictions were lifted, and for about a year now, I've been paying him to jam with me, which has been a very rewarding experience (for me at least!), as I find playing with someone more advanced and very talented is an excellent way to learn. It's not just technique; there's also the ability to quickly agree on an arrangement with someone, using the right vocabulary, and a kind of telepathic understanding that develops between players who are used to playing together, which means you can sort of signal tempo changes and cadenzas to each other even without discussing them beforehand.
I have just published another album of these recordings on Bandcamp, called Demotic Dances. It includes a set of three Egyptian-related tunes. I mean that in the loosest, most fantastical sense. One is a 1917 "jass" song called Cleopatra Had a Jazz Band. Jass is what jazz was called in the early days, before it became an established art form. It has been called the devil's music, blamed for promiscuity, degeneracy, laziness, bad teeth, big ears and 'graceless legs.' In Ireland, they passed venue licensing laws that prevented jazz dances from getting past the local clergy. The Swingjugend in Nazi-era Germany were targeted both for liking it, and for harbouring anti-fascists and anti-racists among them.
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The next in the Egyptian set is a loose (Latin) cover of Egyptian diva Layla Mourad's Ya Tabib al Alb (Oh Doctor of the/my? Heart), which I have equally loosely translated into jazz language as Cardiology. I love the languid near-despair of her acting in the black-and-white movie this comes from, by the way, and the apparent indifference of the good doctor to her palpitations.
The third track is a shameless Orientalist fantasy about Egypt by the late great clarinettist and soprano sax player Sidney Bechet, who at least honestly calls the tune what it is: Egyptian Fantasy. On Bechet's version, there's a sort of boom-boom at regular intervals to indicate the popping hips of the belly dancer maybe? There was quite a bit of Orientalism and racist stereotyping in early jazz music. I noticed there was a lot of colourism in the lyrics as well, which I see is still being talked about on social media to this day. Sidney Bechet has long been a huge inspiration to me, and there are three other tracks of his on this album: Si Tu Vois Ma Mere, Petite Fleur and Blue Horizon.
I hope you like them!