Black Popular Music in Britain Since 1945

Jon Stratton, Nabeel Zuberi

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781317173885
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Médias et arts de la scène
• Subtopic: Musique rock

Black Popular Music in Britain Since 1945 provides the first broad scholarly discussion of this music since 1990. The book critically examines key moments in the history of black British popular music from 1940s jazz to 1970s soul and reggae, 1990s Jungle and the sounds of Dubstep and Grime that have echoed through the 2000s. While the book offers a history it also discusses the ways black musics in Britain have intersected with the politics of race and class, multiculturalism, gender and sexuality, and debates about media and technology. Contributors examine the impact of the local, the ways that black music in Birmingham, Bristol, Liverpool, Manchester and London evolved differently and how black popular music in Britain has always developed in complex interaction with the dominant British popular music tradition. This tradition has its own histories located in folk music, music hall and a constant engagement, since the nineteenth century, with American popular music, itself a dynamic mixing of African-American, Latin American and other musics. The ideas that run through various chapters form connecting narratives that challenge dominant understandings of black popular music in Britain and will be essential reading for those interested in Popular Music Studies, Black British Studies and Cultural Studies.

Chapter 1
Race, Identity and the Meaning of Jazz in 1940s Britain

Catherine Tackley

The girl-friend said, “Let’s dance” and down the stairs they walked to the dance floor, and as the band struck up “Oh, Johnnie”, the girl-friend stepped away from Howard Barnes, raised her right hand, executed a hep-step and cried, “Wow, Johnnie!” The bomb fell at that exact moment. (Graves, 1958, p. 121)

In his book Champagne and Chandeliers, Charles Graves describes a bomb falling on the Café de Paris in London on 8 March 1941, just as Ken ‘Snakehips’ Johnson and his West Indian Dance Orchestra began to play. The bomb killed the bandleader Johnson, the Trinidadian saxophonist Dave ‘Baba’ Williams and many of those dancing; other members of the band and audience were injured. This event marked a tragic end to Johnson’s burgeoning career at the helm of a unique ensemble in Britain at that time, both culturally, since all the members of the band were black, and musically, as the group was a foremost purveyor of swing in Britain. Complicating a familiar dichotomy of (imported, or closely derivative) jazz in Britain and (native, with original elements) British jazz, as I have argued elsewhere, the West Indian Dance Orchestra can also be understood as an example of British jazz (Tackley, 2013). This challenges the assertion that British national identity was only expressed in jazz from the mid-1960s in works such as Stan Tracy’s 1965 album Jazz Suite inspired by Dylan Thomas’ ‘Under Milk Wood’.¹

In identifying the work of the West Indian Dance Orchestra as British jazz I am not pointing towards obvious manifestations of Britishness, such as the performances of settings of Shakespearian texts (which, anyway, had been recorded previously in Chicago by Bob Crosby), or even the hints of the inclusion of West Indian repertoire in their performances (although not on their known recordings²) as an articulation of their identities as citizens of the British Empire, who had the right to settle in the UK and were doing so in increasing numbers at this time. The members of the West Indian Dance Orchestra were understood in a very general sense as authentic purveyors of African-American swing, although none were African Americans, as well as of styles such as calypso and rumba, Trinidadian and Cuban respectively, although the musicians originated from various different parts of the Caribbean, and some, indeed, had been born and bred in the UK. Even prior to the arrival of the Empire Windrush in 1948, which is often characterised as heralding the start of mass immigration, jazz was part of a vivid and diverse mix of black music styles that could be heard in London clubs reflecting cultural importations from the Empire and beyond. Rather than necessarily signifying specific cultural roots or allegiances, then, ‘descriptions of a hybrid repertoire [of the West Indian Dance Orchestra] suggest a generalized perception of black music commensurate with the blurring of the black identities of the musicians who performed them, which is perhaps characteristic of the black British experience at this time’ (Tackley, 2013, p. 201). In other words, just as citizens of the British Empire often remained fundamentally and non-specifically ‘other’ in British society, jazz was one element in a repertoire of ‘exotic’ black music styles which was becoming established in Britain.

With this context in mind, this chapter examines the subsequent careers of the surviving members of the West Indian Dance Orchestra with a focus on race and identity.³ Racially integrated jazz performances became more frequent during and after the Second World War, especially in recording studios, special concerts and jam sessions where this had already been established, but now extending into mainstream dance orchestras. Although not often the subject of explicit comment in attendant writing, integrated bands helped to establish the authenticity of British jazz performance, by (paradoxically) both making reference to and distinguishing it from that of America. However, the precise cultural roots of black participants were often neglected and whether appearing individually or collectively, black musicians remained novel and therefore subject to discrimination. This challenges the idea of jazz performance as a utopian expression of identity and, in fact, many of the West Indian Dance Orchestra’s musicians diversified to play other forms of music in order to find economic and artistic fulfilment. This chapter draws on material from Britain’s leading contemporary music trade publication, Melody Maker, and interviews from the (UK) National Sound Archive’s Oral History of Jazz in Britain.

Background

The increasing identification of jazz as black music in the years following its introduction to Britain in the aftermath of the First World War was one of the most profoundly influential factors on British reception and perceptions of the genre. In the 1920s, while the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) sought to present a civilised, notated and controlled British version of jazz (dance music), ‘hot’ jazz, which appeared, at least, to be spontaneous and improvised, had considerable exotic appeal in what one contemporary writer termed ‘the underworld of London’ (Felstead, 1923). Because hot jazz was often performed by (African) Americans this exoticism was reinforced. Moreover, this largely unregulated environment provided an ideal situation for British and American musicians, both black and white, to interact free from musical, social and legal restrictions. Elsewhere, I have described in detail the fundamental re-evaluation of jazz and race which took place from around the end of the decade, where performances by black musicians which had previously been dismissed as inadequate began to be understood and appreciated (Parsonage, 2005, pp. 65–8). This development was supported by the growing availability of records and attendant critical writing in publications such as Melody Maker as well as performances of prominent African-American musicians in Britain, including trumpeter Louis Armstrong and composer/bandleader/pianist Duke Ellington, who first appeared here in 1932 and 1933 respectively. A critical shift can be evidenced retrospectively in two important books – Music Ho! by Constant Lambert and All About Jazz by Stanley Nelson, both published in 1934 – which specifically pointed towards the importance of performers rather than composers in jazz. This was a diversion from the conventional hierarchy of western art music which until that point had provided the criteria for evaluating jazz, especially for those who were determined to find it wanting. In the context of this new awareness, blackness was now more often celebrated as a characteristic of jazz which distinguished it not only from classical music but also the dominant popular and commercial dance music, and blackness became increasingly understood as a marker of jazz authenticity.

For the general public, this change in attitude perhaps manifested itself most obviously in developments in BBC broadcasting. The Corporation’s resident Dance Orchestra, although influenced by trends in popular music including jazz, remained mainstream under the leadership of Jack Payne from 1929 and then Henry Hall from 1932 (indeed, African-American multi-instrumentalist and arranger Benny Carter’s work with this group, although influential on the musicians involved, had limited impact on its overall direction and concept [see Tackley, 2012a]). However, alongside this, from around 1937, with the encouragement of young, jazz-loving producers such as Leslie Perowne and Charles Chilton, the BBC broadcast programmes such as Kings of Jazz and Jazz Celebrities which used gramophone records, and also America Dances, an ambitious series of transatlantic relays of band performances, and specially arranged jam sessions from New York (Baade, 2011, p. 31).

This reaching out across the Atlantic by the BBC, mirrored by visits to the States by jazz aficionados such as Leonard Feather and Spike Hughes who wanted to experience the latest innovations in the music for themselves, was undoubtedly influenced by significant developments in British governmental policies towards American musicians in the mid-1930s. Under pressure from the (UK) Musicians’ Union, responding to the increasing severity of restrictions on British musicians performing in America under the influence of the powerful American Federation of Musicians, restrictions on American musicians in Britain had tightened during the late 1920s and early 1930s until American bands were prohibited from performing publicly in Britain unless as an integral part of a stage show or in a dance hall (thus prohibiting them from the highest earning gigs in hotels and restaurants). In both instances, a British band had to be employed alongside the visitors, meaning that this was an expensive prospect for producers and managers (Parsonage, 2005, p. 220). Finally, the British Ministry of Labour ceased to issue work permits to American bands altogether in 1935 (Parsonage, 2005, p. 225). Visits from individual American musicians, who would usually only be permitted to appear onstage in effect as variety acts backed by British musicians were possible, although often difficult to negotiate with the authorities (Rye, 1990, pp. 55–6). Demand for what was now thought of as authentic jazz, particularly as performed by the large ensembles which were rapidly defining the new sound of the swing era which was widely disseminated on record, outstripped supply in Britain.

By the mid-1930s the numbers of black musicians resident in London, both British-born, including a large contingent from Cardiff, and those who had arrived relatively recently from the West Indies, principally Jamaica and Trinidad, had made the idea of forming an all-black swing band a realistic possibility.⁴ Jamaican trumpeter Leslie Thompson, who had been resident in Britain since 1929, would have been well aware of the potential of such a venture having already found that ‘my face was my fortune’ as ‘the only coloured trumpeter in London when Louis’ [Armstrong] records became the talk of the music business’ (Thompson and Green, 2009, p. 71), and especially since now ‘the sounds of Armstrong, Ellington and Lunceford, and all those big bands, were all the fashion’ (Thompson and Green, 2009, p. 65). But it is also likely that politics played a part in Thompson’s motivation, having fully developed ‘race consciousness’ in Britain after hearing Marcus Garvey at Speaker’s Corner and associating with Dr Harold Moody, founder of the League of Coloured Peoples (Thompson and Green, 2009, p. 67 and p. 99). A group convened by Thompson which began performing in public in 1936 and was then taken over by the dancer Ken ‘Snakehips’ Johnson (from British Guiana) in early 1937 achieved quantifiable success in terms of making broadcasts and recordings and securing a residency at the Café de Paris, an upper-class nightclub, addressing the demand for jazz performances which both looked and sounded authentic.⁵ The failure of previous all-black groups involving Thompson to secure bookings in 1929 demonstrates the extent to which social circumstances and fashions had changed in the intervening period (Thompson and Green 2009, p. 64; Simons, 2008a, p. 43).⁶ In addition to their ambitious and no doubt expensive forays to the States, the BBC now broadcast the West Indian Dance Orchestra as ‘ultra-modern dance music’, allowing the incorporation of the latest American popular music, swing, under the banner of acceptable dance music. These musicians were not subject to the government restrictions which applied to AfricanAmericans. At the same time, West Indian musicians, especially those who had arrived recently, were not generally subject to conscription which led to the depletion of London’s dance band profession during the War. It is no coincidence then that the West Indian Dance Orchestra’s success peaked at the height of the Blitz during which the aforementioned tragedy occurred.

Precedents for Integration

The years immediately following the dissolution of the West Indian Dance Orchestra can be characterised by increased racial integration in the popular music profession in the UK. Paul Lopes has described how in America during the 1930s, prior to more overt integration by Benny Goodman and others, ‘black and white musicians did occasionally perform together in recording studios, special concerts, special jam sessions, and a few nightclubs, but … the commercial market of live swing remained segregated’ (Lopes, 2002, p. 128). It was under similar circumstances, but probably more frequently, that black and white musicians could be found on the stand together in Britain before the War. The recording studio had long provided an environment where black and white, British and American musicians could work together as well as providing opportunities for the visitors to earn extra cash. Mixed race recording sessions were commonplace in Britain in the 1930s, with integrated British bands organised by white Britons Spike Hughes, Leonard Feather and Vic Lewis, sometimes to accompany African-American stars such as Benny Carter and pianist Fats Waller. In American recording studios, there was a tendency for integration to go only as far as having a white band backing a black star, and this format was observed in live performances on the British variety stage when African-American performers such as saxophonist Coleman Hawkins appeared in the late 1930s (Tackley, 2012b, p. 19; Rye, 1981b).

The format of the ‘special concert’, usually held on a Sunday, promoted by the trade magazine Melody Maker and aimed at an audience of professional musicians and knowledgeable fans, had a long history in the UK extending back to a concert given by the Filipino bandleader, pianist, conductor and composer Fred Elizalde’s Anglo-American band in 1929 (Parsonage, 2005, pp. 215–6). In the 1930s, Duke Ellington and African-American bandleader/singer Cab Calloway were presented in this way with their own orchestras, but Benny Carter was backed by an integrated band of resident musicians (Tackley, 2012a; Rye, 1981a). As with Elizalde in 1929, Carter’s concert was cited as a demonstration of the abilities of the British musicians who were playing alongside the American stars rather than an opportunity to celebrate the visitors’ superlative talents. As previously mentioned, racial integration was the norm in performances which took place in the nightclub environment, but this was also a characteristic of the jam sessions which took place under the more formal auspices of the Rhythm Clubs. Initially these clubs were established across the UK to provide an opportunity for British jazz enthusiasts to share their record collections. However, a standard format evolved for meetings whereby a ‘record recital’ (an illustrated talk) was often followed by a live performance, usually a jam session, where members, in London in particular, were joined by professional musicians, including visiting Americans (Parsonage, 2005, p. 72). Importantly, the activities of the Rhythm Clubs fuelled the critical reassessment of jazz and race discussed earlier, and upheld the spontaneity of the jam session (by contrast with the tightly arranged performances of dance bands) as an authentic form of jazz performance.

Subsequently, in the early 1940s, there is a clear sense that the priorities and principles of the Rhythm Club movement were becoming influential on presentations of jazz in the wider public sphere in the UK. In fact, high-profile racially integrated bands had already been established by the time of the Café de Paris bombing on the BBC’s ‘Radio Rhythm Club’ show which began in June 1940. Again, the context for integration drew on the precedents laid down by the Rhythm Club meetings, now replicated on the air through the show’s ‘informative gramophone records recitals, jam sessions, talks, and guest appearances by professional musicians and critics’ (Baade, 2011, p. 105). Like the Rhythm Clubs, the show drew on blackness and the jam session as tropes of authentic jazz. Initially the producer Charles Chilton staged live jam sessions in the studio, but realised that it would be more straightforward ‘to present comparatively established small combos that played improvised, jam-session inspired music’ (Baade, 2011, p. 114). In October 1940 the Radio Rhythm Club Sextet led by white British clarinettist Harry Parry was installed as the resident band (Baade, 2011, p. 107). Even prior to the demise of the West Indian Dance Orchestra black British guitarist Joe Deniz was a regular member of this integrated group, and Trinidadian trumpeter Dave Wilkins and Jamaican pianist Yorke de Souza joined in 1942.

The ‘First English Public Jam Session’, 1941

The most significant public statement of racial integration in jazz in the aftermath of the Café bombing made reference to all the modes of performance in which racial integration had already been established. On 16 November 1941 the First English Public Jam Session took place at Abbey Road studios through the combined efforts of Melody Maker and the No. 1 Rhythm Club. The event was in effect a ‘special concert’ (an audience of 1,000 were present) which used the jam session format in a recording studio. The performances were recorded and parts of the session then released on record by HMV. As Alyn Shipton points out, this pre-figures Norman Granz’s ‘Jazz at the Philharmonic’ concept (begun in 1944) in which jam sessions were presented in a concert setting and then disseminated on record. Indeed, the HMV releases of the English jam session split ‘the extended performances of Tea for Two and St. Louis Blues into separate parts for the issue on successive sides of 78 r.p.m. discs, just as Granz was eventually to divide up the earliest of his issues in the pre-LP era’. (Shipton, 2008, p. 464). The English event also provides an interesting counterpart to Milt Gabler’s public jam sessions in New York in the 1930s, some of which were also released on his Commodore label. More specifically, the jam session in American clarinettist Benny Goodman’s 1938 Carnegie Hall concert, not released on record until 1950, in effect presented an integrated big band due to the combination of Goodman’s own white sidemen and guests from the black bands of Duke Ellington and Count Basie (Tackley, 2012b, p.19). Perhaps there is some sense in which the First English Public Jam Session was an attempt to emulate these developments in the USA. However, the overwhelming emphasis in previews of the event in Melody Maker is the promotion of British talent: ‘We believe that British musicians can play the right sort of jazz in the right sort of atmosphere’, recalling the rhetoric which had surrounded the promotion and reviews of Benny Carter’s 1937 concert in London (Melody Maker, 1941a, p. 1; Tackley, 2012a, pp. 174–5). This is perhaps indicative of the recognition of the need for self-sufficiency in British jazz performance in the wake of the 1935 restrictions, and in addition, latterly, the assertion of a nationalist stance at a time of war. Ironically, having been at pains to identify the qualities of informality and spontaneity that were considered essential for a jam session, the announcement of ‘the greatest British jam session ever’ goes on to reassure readers that the event would be carefully organised by a committee whose role included selecting the musicians that would take part, forming them into ‘bands’ and editing the resultant recordings ‘to provide the greatest jazz and to show British musicians in the best possible light’ (Melody Maker, 1941a, p. 1).

Nevertheless, perhaps with authenticity in mind, the committee pursued a policy of selecting ‘up-and-coming youngsters’ who, although possibly not known to the wider public, had a presence on the London jazz scene where jam sessions were intrinsic. Of the twenty-four musicians first announced in Melody Maker as participants, five were black, and the magazine pointed out that all had been associated with Johnson’s band, perhaps suggesting that this was a guarantee of their abilities (1941b, p. 1). Guitarist brothers Frank and Joe Deniz were Cardiff-born. Saxophonist and clarinettist Carl Barriteau (Trinidad) and trumpeters Leslie ‘Jiver’ Hutchinson (Jamaica) and Dave Wilkins were from the West Indies. Although racial integration was not specifically mentioned as an aim of the jam session, the inclusion of a significant number of black musicians was consistent with Rhythm Club ideals. Moreover, the presentation of short biographies and photographs of the musicians involved made this aspect obvious to those who were unfamiliar with the musicians or unable to attend the event in person. Although accounts of the jam session suggest a certain amount of fluidity in the line-ups, Carl Barriteau was appointed leader of an octet, which also contained Frank Deniz, thereby foregrounding racial integration. It was this group’s performance of ‘Tea for Two’ that was included in the selection of performances released on record by HMV in December 1941. A further concert at the London Coliseum sponsored by Cavendish Music Publishers was announced almost immediately after the First English Public Jam Session. Melody Maker readers were invited to vote for the musicians that they wished to hear at the event, which was billed as ‘Your Swing Concert’. The proportion of black musicians included in a list of ‘the foremost musicians in the country at the moment’ published in the magazine as a guide for voters and those that polled highest in the final vote were similar, at around 20 per cent, and roughly consistent with the percentage included in the Jam Session (Melody Maker, 1941c, p. 1; 1942, p. 1).

In retrospect, it seems that the Jam Session established a precedent for racial integration wh...