Wednesday, 7 November 2012

O! it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour.

Harberton Village Hall 20th October 2012

To continue with the slightly pretentious litererary allusions...October reminds us that summer's lease hath all too short a date but, for us, the carefree feeling of summer returned to Haberton on Saturday 20th October, when Desperate Measures hosted an afternoon of music to celebrate the life and compositions of Andrew Burnett.

Andrew is no doubt presently admonishing the heavenly choirs to sing what 's written and not to rush it, but many still earthbound miss his inspiration.  And this was ably demonstrated by the number and variety of musicians who enjoyed giving up their normal Saturday activities to join us and play.

Desperate Measures plus
Andrew made friends at jazz workshops, played in several ensembles and was instrumental (!) in encouraging many of us to get involved.  So the mix of musicians that afternoon included established professionals, long-term friends and several of Andrew's protegés.  Old bands reformed, and current bands mixed and matched, to provide a variety of groupings.  We played many favourite standards, and a lot of Andrew's own compositions. 

The Shack Band

Just Jazz
Lewis Riley leads a big band
Here's a little experiment - video!  Just snippets of three of Andrew's compositions:

Credit for the organisation of the event must go Mick Johnson, the ubiquitous bass player on the day, and to Charlie Lowe and Jo Talbot of Desperate Measures.  We were also well supported on the afternoon by many helpers who set up tables, served tea, washed up and provided general conviviality. 

Oh, and delicious cakes were made...

Somehow, our events always seem to involve food.

I hope that video of much of the event will be available in a week or three for those interested (I need a few free days to put it all together). 

My words really cannot do justice the music we enjoyed that day, nor to the atmosphere that surrounded us, so I'll sign off the way I started with the same slightly pretentious thespian style:

"The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music."
(Merchant of Venice)