THE MIKE COLE STORY #3

TEA WITH ELTON

In the early 1970s I had a house in North Harrow. I rented two rooms, one  to a good guitar player – his surname was ‘White’ and everyone called him ‘Snowy’; he was a good friend of Peter Green. The other ‘tenant’ was a guy named Bruce Sawford. I got on well with these guys and we used to have informal jam sessions.

One afternoon Bruce asked me if I would like to meet a friend of his called Reg who lived nearby. So we met Reg in a pub in Pinner.

Reg was a singer and guitarist. I was a ‘retired rock star’, having left Mungo Jerry a few months previously. As I recall, we talked about football more than about music. Bruce and I would sometimes go to Vicarage Road to support Watford and Reg’s subsequent association with the ‘Hornets’ is well known. In those days pubs shut at 2 or 2:30 pm until the evening, so after a couple of beers Reg asked us if we would like to come back to his place.

We walked to Reg’s house in Pinner where he lived with his mother and stepfather. We were made very welcome and she made us tea and sandwiches. I don’t remember what we talked about but after a while Reg showed us his bedroom. We chatted for a while longer and then said our goodbyes. It never occurred to me to join Reg in a band. I wanted to play jazz; he was just a local singer and guitarist – what did I know ! But if we had joined forces Elton would have had a fairly successful career in music.

SUBSEQUENTLY

A little later I met up with a couple of guys who were songwriters. We formed a band for the purpose of recording, not gigging, and recorded some tracks with Barry Murray. At one time we were going to be handled by Bill Curbishley, the manager of The Who. We were given the name of Valentine. For various reasons, mainly because we were not intending to be a gigging band, it all came to nothing. But at least Barry had shown some interest. He was the only one of the three principals of Red Bus that showed any concern for the music itself.

I continued to work as a freelance musician, playing all sorts of genres – mostly cabaret music, some jazz and a spell playing Greek folk music at a club off Tottenham Court Road called ‘The Grecian Tavern’. We worked seven nights per week from 9pm until 3am, sometimes an hour later if one of the wealthy patrons stuck a £20 note in the scroll of the bouzouki player’s instrument. As a ‘concession’ we used to finish at 1pm on Sunday night !

After a couple of years I opened an antique shop in Kings Cross and ran it with my wife-to-be. With the birth of our son and with our daughter on the way I had to close the shop and start working as an accountant to provide the cash flow needed to buy a house and support the growing family. I built up my own practice and eventually had about 230 clients, many of whom were musicians or in other areas of the entertainment industry. Some of them remain friends to this day.

Fast forward to 1995 and the 25th anniversary of ITS. The Sunday People ran a story headlined ‘Where’s Missing Mike ?’ One of my daughter’s schoolfriends saw it and asked her “Is that your dad ?” Natalie brought home a copy and she contacted the newspaper. They sent round a reporter and photographer and we did an interview at my house. A feature article appeared two weeks later. A day or two after the initial article I received a phone call from someone purporting to want my accounting services. After a few moments I realised that it was Ray winding me up. We renewed our friendship and met a few times at recording studios or restaurants. I was invited to a reunion in Stoke, comprising Ray and quite a few hard-core MJ fans. This was in 1995 as I recall; and I must have played there with Ray but my memory of this is a bit hazy. Since then we have played some gigs and done a couple of mini tours. I performed in June 2005 with Ray on the occasion of the 35th anniversary of ITS. This is a report of my part in the proceedings:

“The “35 Years of Mungo Jerry” milestone was celebrated over a red-hot anniversary weekend on 18 and 19 June 2005. Instead of a traditional widespread UK tour, the event was highly localized, taking place across closely linked venues in Newcastle-under-Lyme and Stoke-on-Trent.

The weekend featured three distinct sets spanning multiple venues:

The Coppice School Gym (Newcastle-under-Lyme): The event kicked off here on Saturday evening to a fully packed crowd. Ray Dorset performed alongside James Davis and original early-days double bass player Mike Cole. They played long-lost fan favourites including Maggie, Peace In The Country, Midnight Special, and O’Reilly.

 The Forum Theatre (Stoke-on-Trent): Located inside the Potteries Museum & Art Gallery, this venue hosted the second and third sets of the weekend.

The Skiffle Duo Set: The first half at the Forum Theatre featured Ray Dorset and Mike Cole returning to their roots as a duo, performing a brilliant acoustic skiffle set that included a massive crowd sing-along to Have A Whiff On Me.

I am still in touch with Ray. From time to time, we connect by telephone.

For the next several years I was very active musically. I used to ‘dep’ for the regular bass player at a nice little restaurant gig in Charterhouse Square, Farringdon – just piano and acoustic bass. The usual pianist was a very good player, a New Zealander by the name of Jonathan Taberner. That’s where I met Roger Marsden – he was ‘depping’ for the regular pianist. He was obviously a good piano player and he made a lot of sense when we talked during the breaks. He told me that he liked my playing but it could be even better. Anyway, he offered me jazz harmony lessons and I became a willing student. I studied with him for six years.

I had been playing some jazz and other gigs with local musicians and became part of the house band at a North London jazz club called Googlies,   working there there for almost five years. We didn’t make a lot of money but the great thing about it was that we had, as the main attraction, a guest musician every week.

I will always be grateful for the opportunity to play with the finest jazz musicians around. Most of them were British but there were others from all over the world, including some Americans, and I recorded with Lianne Carroll, Digby Fairweather, Jim Mullen and others. As a gesture of goodwill Ray generously came for not much money and gave a show there. As usual, the packed audience loved it.

In 2007 we recorded Naked From The Heart. Naturally I am biased, but I think it was one of the best MJ albums. I enjoyed doing it. Ray insisted on analogue  recording, not digital, to preserve the ‘authentic’ sound. He was right. (Incidentally, Ray says that it was I who introduced him to Bruce Brand; I’m pretty sure that it was the other way around).

RON

In the early 2000s when record shops still existed on the high street, I would go to the West End in search of jazz CDs armed with a debit card; this was fatal ……  I would come home with 40 or so CDs. One of the shops on my regular trips was Tower Records in Piccadilly Circus. At the counter I picked up a copy of JARS (Jazz at Ronnie Scott’s). While looking at the forthcoming attractions at the club I noticed a box advert which in essence advertised that Ron (short for Rognvald) Mathewson was available to give double bass lessons.

It was several weeks before I summoned courage to reply to the ad. After all, a player of Ron’s stature and reputation wouldn’t be interested in small-fry like me. But within  few moments I was speaking to Ron like an old mate. To my pleasant surprise, he was very approachable. After chatting for a couple of minutes I asked him “Who is your favourite bass player ?” Without hesitation he replied “Scott LaFaro.” This is exactly the answer I would have given, so I felt that, to this extent, we were on the same wavelength. His first inspiration was Leroy Vinnegar (known as “The Walker”) – just as mine was Ray Brown.

We continued speaking for a while. Ron told me that I was the only musician to have replied to his ad. I was amazed because we are talking about (arguably) the best jazz double bassist this country has ever produced. Anyway, we arranged the first lesson, which was scheduled for 2pm on Sunday at his Sinclair Gardens (W14) flat. Ray Warleigh, Mick Pyne and his brother Chris had occupied flats in the same building; Ron told me that his place had been the scene of frequent all-night (or longer) blowing sessions with many of  the British jazz luminaries of the 1960s and 1970s. I arrived at 2pm on Sunday and stayed until 2am the next morning !

LESSONS WITH RON

Ron asked me to play some walking bass for him (I think it was on ‘rhythm changes’) and a few other things. After a little while, Ron took over the bass and simply said “This is how I do it.” I would watch and hear this superb bass player from only a few feet away. His wonderful playing instantly gave me something to aspire to. Most of our subsequent lessons took this form. He didn’t give me scales or exercises to practice. It was a very informal way of teaching – in effect by osmosis.

After a few lessons I realised that Ron didn’t pay much attention to chord types and jazz harmony. He instinctively knew the root notes of a tune, using his uncanny ear to fashion his bass line accordingly. He couldn’t rattle off the changes of a tune as can many good players; or be able to analyse harmonic logic. This in no way diminished my admiration for a wonderful bass player. Indeed, this probably contributed to his unique identity. He was fond of saying “Let your fingers do the walking” and he transformed my use of the right hand. After  few lessons (I used to go fortnightly) Ron would compliment my playing (sometimes). On one occasion he actually said “That’s fantastic.” I felt that this was genuine – not just a teacher giving encouraging words to his student; after all, Ron was well known for speaking his mind and there were also plenty of times when he (constructively) criticised my playing.

On one occasion, when I was playing something for him he shouted “Wrong !” I said to Ron that he shouldn’t shout at his students like that and use such negative language; it was discouraging. So I played the same thing again and at the same point he shouted “Incorrect !”

Incidentally, I would play on his gorgeous Gand (c.1853) bass. It was beautifully set up. I used to say to Ron that it almost seemed to play itself. He bought it in the early 1960s from a well-heeled guy who thought it would be jolly good fun to play jazz. After about six months he decided that he didn’t want to be a jazz musician after all and sold the bass to Ron for a very reasonable price. Ron’s back-up bass was a Boosey & Hawkes model; a good bass but not in the same league as the Gand.

Ron told me that Ray Brown had picked up the Gand and played it a little and said “I see you are a low-action merchant.”

Ron not only helped with some technical aspects – of interest and importance mainly to bass players – but I also learnt from him various practical things such as how to look after one’s instrument – how to clean the strings with surgical spirit, lubricate the fingerboard with almond oil, repair scratches on the main body with a mixture of linseed oil and methylated spirit.

Usually, after the actual ‘lesson’ had finished, we talked at length – mainly about music. But at one time we were conversing about how some people were parsimonious. Eventually I light-heartedly said to Ron “You Scots are all the same.” He was a bit upset by this and replied fiercely “I’m not a Scot – I’m a Shetlander !”

I remember at one time we were listening to his copy of the Bill Evans CD Explorations. At the start of How Deep Is The Ocean Bill chooses not to play the original melody; instead, he plays a simple 5-note paraphrase based on the first 3 notes of the scale to start the melody. Ron gave a little nod of approval and hummed the little motif a couple of times. I would think that Ron enjoyed the quirkiness of it, as well as the superb playing of the trio.

We would also have a little play together. Ron had a 6-octave piano that used to belong to Gordon Beck. I would play piano and Ron would accompany me on bass. We would then reverse roles. It probably sounded terrible (except for Ron’s bass playing). It was just a bit of fun.

ALEX WELSH, DIZZY, TUBBY

Ron had played in various bands in Scotland but he moved down to London in 1964. He played in several groups but mainly and subsequently exclusively with the Alex Welsh band. He told me that his time with that band was the happiest of his career. I have a CD (copied from Ron’s) of the band’s recording session in 1964 with the unique Pee Wee Russell. Love it !

I had the privilege of hearing, at first hand, many of Ron’s anecdotes. These mainly related to his experiences with jazz icons from both Europe and USA. In fact, most visiting American musicians, if they were not bringing their own rhythm section, would ask specifically for Ron.

In the early 1960s Ron was a member of the Kenny Clarke-Francy Boland Big Band. Dizzy Gillespie was the featured guest musician at the time. They had just finished a band rehearsal and Dizzy walked past Ron as he was leaving the stage. As he did so he tapped Ron’s bass, as if to say something like “well played”. But Ron reacted angrily and rebuked Dizzy “Don’t touch my bass !”

A short while later Dizzy, somewhat taken aback and by way of an apology, sent someone round to the musicians’ dressing room inviting Ron to his dressing room to ‘Smoke the peace-pipe.’ Ron told me that he refused the invitation. I was amazed to hear this. I told him that he should have gone. For goodness sake, it was Dizzy Gillespie !

Ron told me about when he first encountered Tubby Hayes in 1966. It was at the ‘Hopbine’ in North Wembley which presented Sunday afternoon jazz featuring great players like Don Rendell, Tony Coe, Jimmy Skidmore, etc. Ron had been recommended to Tubby by piano player Mick Pyne and was on stage unpacking his bass. He heard Tubby’s voice saying “Who are you ?” Ron turned round and replied “I’m the bass player.” Tubby: “We’ll see about that.”

After just one session, Ron eventually became the permanent bassist in the band. Ron told me about the occasion when he had reason to visit Tubby at his flat in Hans Road off Brompton Road, round the corner from Harrods. He arrived at about 2pm and rang the bell. Tubby appeared at the doorway with a needle stuck in his upper arm. Seeing Ron staring at it Tubby apologised: “Sorry about that”.

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