Bad Plus Ronnie Scott's Equals Great

For almost the entire six years that I've lived in London I've been trying to engineer a night at Ronnie Scott's. It's one of those places that, to my mind, is shrouded in legend and history. I care enough about music to feel like it warranted a pilgrimage, but never really knew any other believers who would go with me. The gigs can also lean toward the expensive, and, though I think of myself as a bit of an anorak, I don't know enough about jazz to discern the good from the bad. I also don't follow it enough to know who is worth seeing and who isn't. That was so until I read about the Bad Plus, a threepiece from the midwest, who have a reputation for interpreting indie or rock hits. Rich Maestro, whose musical views are aligned with mine (though if I'm an anorak, he's a four man tent when it comes to music), had seen them twice before and had nothing but extravagant praise for them. I tried my best to convince the gang but only had the Evans', Jeremy and the Hubs agree. This all got reshuffled in the end, with people feeling ill and the like, so my girl Kami came along.

I feel slightly like I'd missed the boat a little with Ronnie Scott's. Since I hadn't shelled out for the expensive tickets, we didn't have any assurance of a good seat, so I got there for doors and was first in line. The lady at the door had one of those 40 a day voices, which got me all excited. Inside though, most of the expectations were proved to be inaccurate. Gone was the smoke hazed, blue lit den of sin fron the older pictures of Ronnie Scott's which I randomly admired in a friends' living room in Tokyo. They gave an impression of an idyllic site to OD. Since the smoking ban, it's a very plush, very lush caberet. The front of queue status meant that I was able to get a comfy, circular table with a reasonably unobscured view. Which was a blessing, since I've never seen music performed with so much love (on the part of the bassist, Reid Anderson, who was working the base like it was Scarlett Johansson) and joy (from Dave King, the drummer, who yelled with pleasure when swaying, bouncing, laughing and smiling was not enough). I couldn't see the pianist, Ethan Iverson, but am willing to bet he was similarly enraptured. There was a lot that was unlikely about the Bad Plus. To begin with, if I had to hazard names to faces, purely based on the images in my mind, the drummer would have been called Reid, the bassist Ethan, and the pianist David. I judge on appearances, clearly. Then there was the dialogue. Given that this was minimal, limited largely to the introduction of the songs, it was impressive that there were references to Metatron. While I was watching them, I thought "the Mephsito-like pianist is referencing Metatron... I could imagine the bassist spouting Socrates in the sack... this is deep" (check that alliteration! Maybe I was too many drinks in).

The music was incredible to watch. I know, I know, that's not the one of the five senses you expected, but it was absolutely a visual feast as much as it was aural. The precision of the drummer, the cordinated, scuttling, spider-fingers of the bassist... it was the most skillful thing I'd seen in ages. I was absolutely awestruck. To listen to, I thought at some points it was like yoga, when they say to imagine a thread holding you from pelvis through to head, to keep you upright. When they played, it felt like a cord of platinum light between pianist, base and drums, beginning with me. So intensely beautiful. I thought this when listening to a track called People Like You, written by Reid Anderson, which so moved Mrs Evans and I that we could barely articulate. She's a journalist and I talk am capable of soliloquy, so this really is saying something (or not). It was elegant, lovely, emotive in a soothing way. It reminded me of a lullaby. It was followed by another song he'd written, Physical, which was almost ridiculously complex. It went from background to stark, to accusing, to a climax and it all just flowed. The skill in timing and sense that they were performing as one was unbelieveable. It showed me what music was like when people performed it who loved it.

I knew I was in trouble when I looked at the Ronnie Scott's logo, thought it was a koi carp but then realised it was a man playing the sax, which would make sense. It was getting harder to focus on the music, and my mind kept wandering. I got to thinking about what it must be like to have to focus on the music to perform it and decided that the Pianist must have it hardest, working with a different instrument each gig. Then I thought, him and every hot desker and prostitute. You gotta work with what God gave you. It's just that sometimes you're not Bridget Jones, who people love the way she is. Instead you're just the way you are, in his case a really talented pianist. It must be incredibly rare to have the ability to switch instruments and the like.

The band played several of their own compositions, and I wondered about their music making process: did they each write their own arrangements, and the others write theirs in around it? Dave's piece had the most complex drumming (and was called Thrift Store Jewellery, about how finding a treasure in a second-hand store can brighten up your day, which I absolutely loved as the premise for a song), Ethan's was trickiest on the piano. Perhaps it's the nature of the musician to hear in their instrument? Though then, what can be said of Songs in the Key of Life? Other than that Piano and Harmonica do not a band make, but can be enough for an amazing album. The thing that struck me, towards the end, is how much Bad Plus achieved with just three musicians. Not once did you miss the vocalists, back up singers, electric guitars or synths, it was just unadulrated talent. It was genuinely emotive music, and I sometimes feel that I don't get that any more.