DIANE McLOUGHLIN - My History of Music
Photograph by Sheila Burnett
Saxophonist Diane McLoughlin has been a vital presence on the UK for many years. For those in the know she is a fine soloist and a composer of note, as her Giant Steppes Jazz Orchestra that she led in the nineties testifies, however she remains one our best kept secrets.
In recent years Diane has been a member of both the Chris Hodgkins Quartet and the Alison Rayner Quintet (ARQ) with who she has recorded three highly acclaimed albums, and last year released the magnificent debut album from her band, The Casimir Connection, Cause And Effect.
Her music is wide ranging and yet deeply rooted in her own personal heritage. Drawing on jazz, classical, Eastern European folk music, as well as the music she heard growing up Diane has brought these diverse musical influences into a compositional style that is wholly her own. Passionate about playing and composing, this is conveyed every time she picks up the saxophone or sits down at the piano to write.
In recent years Diane has been a member of both the Chris Hodgkins Quartet and the Alison Rayner Quintet (ARQ) with who she has recorded three highly acclaimed albums, and last year released the magnificent debut album from her band, The Casimir Connection, Cause And Effect.
Her music is wide ranging and yet deeply rooted in her own personal heritage. Drawing on jazz, classical, Eastern European folk music, as well as the music she heard growing up Diane has brought these diverse musical influences into a compositional style that is wholly her own. Passionate about playing and composing, this is conveyed every time she picks up the saxophone or sits down at the piano to write.
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Earlier this year Jazzwise magazine featured Diane in their series of interviews, The Player, in which she talked about her saxophones, and approach to playing. Diane's warm and engaging tone in the article brought an immediate response with much interest on social media, and people keen to learn more about Diane and her music. As a direct result, this is Diane's story of her love of music, in her own words...
'I was born in Huddersfield, Yorkshire. My father was half Irish, half Yorkshire, my mum was a Polish/Ukrainian refugee from the Second World War. When I was a small child we lived in a back-to back house, one room up, one room down, with a gas ring in a cupboard and an open fire. The outside toilet was at the end of the street and was shared by the whole street. It was whitewashed inside, had a pile of old newspapers for toilet paper and was full of spiders. We had a tin bath for washing.
My mum had suffered a traumatic time during the war and because of her mental state we were rehoused when I was five to a new council estate on the other side of town. My parents worked long hours in the local textile mill, so I was often left to my own devices, hanging around outside with the local kids and getting up to mischief. There were no locked doors and kids wandered in and out of all the houses. I had a toy piano, which I was fixated by, and my parents wondered if I was musical. Luckily for me, there was an eccentric old lady in the area who gave piano lessons very cheaply. They got hold of a second hand piano for me and I began to learn.
I progressed through the grades, eventually getting Grade VIII when I was a teenager. I loved the classics and my teacher instilled in me how to love and play music. “More feeling! More feeling!” I played Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and was particularly drawn to the music of Poulenc. However, it was first playing Bartok’s Mikrokosmos that amazed me. This was music that was fresh, edgy, sounding so contemporary but also integrating East European folksong, different time signatures, Lydian modes.
I was given a little pocket radio which I listened to under the covers at night and while searching for Radio Caroline or obscure European stations, I heard a Bulgarian women’s choir. Again the dissonance and the folksong references instantly appealed to me, though I didn’t discover what it was until much later in my life. In the eighties I led a group called Di’s New Outfit, which had an eclectic mix of free improvisation and folksong. I then discovered the voice of the Bulgarian singer Nadja Karadjova. Very difficult to get hold of recordings now, but her voice still thrills me.
When I was a child, the local lending library was my temple. There were no books in our house, but I could borrow up to six books a week from the library, which I read voraciously. You could also borrow vinyl albums. There was an amazing selection and my choices could include classical Indian Sitar Ragas, Muddy Waters, Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, Bob Dylan, The Temptations, The Zombies, Mussorgsky. Borodin’s Prince Igor echoed for a whole hot summer’s afternoon on my street, followed by The Who at top volume.
'I was born in Huddersfield, Yorkshire. My father was half Irish, half Yorkshire, my mum was a Polish/Ukrainian refugee from the Second World War. When I was a small child we lived in a back-to back house, one room up, one room down, with a gas ring in a cupboard and an open fire. The outside toilet was at the end of the street and was shared by the whole street. It was whitewashed inside, had a pile of old newspapers for toilet paper and was full of spiders. We had a tin bath for washing.
My mum had suffered a traumatic time during the war and because of her mental state we were rehoused when I was five to a new council estate on the other side of town. My parents worked long hours in the local textile mill, so I was often left to my own devices, hanging around outside with the local kids and getting up to mischief. There were no locked doors and kids wandered in and out of all the houses. I had a toy piano, which I was fixated by, and my parents wondered if I was musical. Luckily for me, there was an eccentric old lady in the area who gave piano lessons very cheaply. They got hold of a second hand piano for me and I began to learn.
I progressed through the grades, eventually getting Grade VIII when I was a teenager. I loved the classics and my teacher instilled in me how to love and play music. “More feeling! More feeling!” I played Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and was particularly drawn to the music of Poulenc. However, it was first playing Bartok’s Mikrokosmos that amazed me. This was music that was fresh, edgy, sounding so contemporary but also integrating East European folksong, different time signatures, Lydian modes.
I was given a little pocket radio which I listened to under the covers at night and while searching for Radio Caroline or obscure European stations, I heard a Bulgarian women’s choir. Again the dissonance and the folksong references instantly appealed to me, though I didn’t discover what it was until much later in my life. In the eighties I led a group called Di’s New Outfit, which had an eclectic mix of free improvisation and folksong. I then discovered the voice of the Bulgarian singer Nadja Karadjova. Very difficult to get hold of recordings now, but her voice still thrills me.
When I was a child, the local lending library was my temple. There were no books in our house, but I could borrow up to six books a week from the library, which I read voraciously. You could also borrow vinyl albums. There was an amazing selection and my choices could include classical Indian Sitar Ragas, Muddy Waters, Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, Bob Dylan, The Temptations, The Zombies, Mussorgsky. Borodin’s Prince Igor echoed for a whole hot summer’s afternoon on my street, followed by The Who at top volume.
I loved music and spent my time strumming the guitar or playing the piano. I would have loved to be in a band then but there seemed to be no opportunities for girls. Music education was just based on classical music and rock bands were just for boys. I was open to any kind of music as long as it appealed to my heart as well as my brain. There was one record that sowed the seeds of my later interest in jazz. Like many others, I was introduced to jazz through Miles Davis, and for me it was through this record, Sketches Of Spain, which sounded so cool and sophisticated.
As a teenager I became interested in politics and joined the Young Socialists. I saw folk music as being the voice of the people, charting the history of working class culture, so inevitably I was drawn to Bob Dylan.
There was a spirit and optimism then, a belief that maybe young people could change the world and in many ways they did, but despite the civil rights movement then, it’s shocking to see that black people still have to fight the fight today. I also loved soul music, especially Otis Redding.
I managed to get into university (the first person in my family to do so). I wanted to be a writer, so studied English Literature. In many ways I did enjoy university, but generally I felt like a fish out of water. Everyone seemed so posh and I was mocked for my Yorkshire accent. There were some experiences I would never have had if it were not through my passion for music. I loved singing and joined a couple of choirs, a madrigal group and a Palestrina choir. Singing beautiful Elizabethan choral arrangements and 16th century church music was a spiritual revelation.
The choirs were often booked for posh events and I once found myself sitting next to lady such and such. In my head I was saying “she doesn’t know I come from a rough council estate”. I often felt like an imposter, but believed I was getting away with it (I wasn’t!). I had always felt different, but at university I felt dislocated both from my working class background and this really privileged middle class world. I handled my confusion and loneliness in the typical student manner, heavy drinking, partying, staying up all night. Musically, I needed some wild music at top volume. I needed to relate to other outsiders, strange people who didn’t fit in, and who celebrated weirdness. The Velvet Underground had that hip glamour of New York art. Captain Beefheart was just a wild man! I was oblivious to the free jazz that was happening at the time but that would also have fitted the bill.
It’s interesting to see how decisions in life are made. I certainly wasn’t ready for a straight job. I felt restless and wanted to have adventures. I realize many of my choices were because of music. This time, I decided to explore the Irish side of my makeup, as Irish folk music always connected with me. So, I hitched over to Ireland, with a backpack and a plastic bivvy bag. I spent one summer touring the west coast, walking for miles, sleeping outdoors, nurtured by natural surroundings and discovering wonderful musicians, who could be found in the smallest pub in the middle of nowhere.
As a teenager I became interested in politics and joined the Young Socialists. I saw folk music as being the voice of the people, charting the history of working class culture, so inevitably I was drawn to Bob Dylan.
There was a spirit and optimism then, a belief that maybe young people could change the world and in many ways they did, but despite the civil rights movement then, it’s shocking to see that black people still have to fight the fight today. I also loved soul music, especially Otis Redding.
I managed to get into university (the first person in my family to do so). I wanted to be a writer, so studied English Literature. In many ways I did enjoy university, but generally I felt like a fish out of water. Everyone seemed so posh and I was mocked for my Yorkshire accent. There were some experiences I would never have had if it were not through my passion for music. I loved singing and joined a couple of choirs, a madrigal group and a Palestrina choir. Singing beautiful Elizabethan choral arrangements and 16th century church music was a spiritual revelation.
The choirs were often booked for posh events and I once found myself sitting next to lady such and such. In my head I was saying “she doesn’t know I come from a rough council estate”. I often felt like an imposter, but believed I was getting away with it (I wasn’t!). I had always felt different, but at university I felt dislocated both from my working class background and this really privileged middle class world. I handled my confusion and loneliness in the typical student manner, heavy drinking, partying, staying up all night. Musically, I needed some wild music at top volume. I needed to relate to other outsiders, strange people who didn’t fit in, and who celebrated weirdness. The Velvet Underground had that hip glamour of New York art. Captain Beefheart was just a wild man! I was oblivious to the free jazz that was happening at the time but that would also have fitted the bill.
It’s interesting to see how decisions in life are made. I certainly wasn’t ready for a straight job. I felt restless and wanted to have adventures. I realize many of my choices were because of music. This time, I decided to explore the Irish side of my makeup, as Irish folk music always connected with me. So, I hitched over to Ireland, with a backpack and a plastic bivvy bag. I spent one summer touring the west coast, walking for miles, sleeping outdoors, nurtured by natural surroundings and discovering wonderful musicians, who could be found in the smallest pub in the middle of nowhere.
'Frestonia', Freston Road
I had always known that I wanted to live in London, which I imagined was the most interesting and exciting place to be. I got a job doing voluntary work in a hospital in Paddington, which gave me somewhere to live. However, when that finished, I was homeless, with little money and no real idea what I wanted to do. A friend introduced me to the squatting scene in Ladbroke Grove. He shinned up a drainpipe and opened up a derelict house in Freston Road, which became my home for many years. Later it became famous for declaring itself the independent state of Frestonia, modeled on Christiana in Denmark. Music was part of the fabric of political resistance then. The Clash was just up the road, the sound of reggae sound systems were a backdrop to the Notting Hill Carnival riots. Rock against Racism, women’s politics, gay politics, all reflected themselves in popular music, which felt vibrant and alive.
I was by then working as a mental health social worker, which I felt very passionate about. As with everything else at that time, attitudes to mental illness and treatment were being rightfully challenged. I was very involved with this for a number of years, still enjoying music and going to gigs. One club I went to was in Amsterdam. It was a jazz club, a genre I knew little about. However, that night was an epiphany for me. I don’t even know who it was, but I listened to a saxophone solo that changed my life. That solo seemed to have everything in it, pain, anger, love, joy, and excitement. Music had always moved me, but watching him play and release such a complex, furious, beautiful torrent of sound made me long to do it myself. I thought it must be the most fulfilling, expressive experience you could imagine.
Back in London, I bought a second hand alto and tried to teach myself to play from a book that came with it. I also started listening to jazz, though at that time it wasn’t my main interest, as I was getting into funk and African music as well: Manu Dibango, Thomas Mapfumo, King Sunny Ade. Often the styles crossed over, such as this great track, 'Shakara' by Fela Kuti, which saw the beginning of Afrobeat.
Although my playing was rudimentary, to say the least, through the women’s movement I was able to find other musicians and play together. Male musicians had always hung around and supported each other, but now there was a supportive network nurturing women’s talent and creativity. I do believe I would never have persisted with my playing if it had not been for those early experiences when women began to have the opportunity to create music and perform. At that time, there were two only female saxophone players who had any kind of visibility. Kathy Stobart was one, and I managed to get a lesson from her. I had a great time hanging out with her. She was very funny but had an underlying toughness, which she must have needed at that time. I was lucky in that there were many opportunities to perform, often at gigs with a political agenda. I played in a women’s band called Hi Jinx, which played African/Latin influenced dance music. We did regular gigs and I was practically earning a living from it.
I was by then working as a mental health social worker, which I felt very passionate about. As with everything else at that time, attitudes to mental illness and treatment were being rightfully challenged. I was very involved with this for a number of years, still enjoying music and going to gigs. One club I went to was in Amsterdam. It was a jazz club, a genre I knew little about. However, that night was an epiphany for me. I don’t even know who it was, but I listened to a saxophone solo that changed my life. That solo seemed to have everything in it, pain, anger, love, joy, and excitement. Music had always moved me, but watching him play and release such a complex, furious, beautiful torrent of sound made me long to do it myself. I thought it must be the most fulfilling, expressive experience you could imagine.
Back in London, I bought a second hand alto and tried to teach myself to play from a book that came with it. I also started listening to jazz, though at that time it wasn’t my main interest, as I was getting into funk and African music as well: Manu Dibango, Thomas Mapfumo, King Sunny Ade. Often the styles crossed over, such as this great track, 'Shakara' by Fela Kuti, which saw the beginning of Afrobeat.
Although my playing was rudimentary, to say the least, through the women’s movement I was able to find other musicians and play together. Male musicians had always hung around and supported each other, but now there was a supportive network nurturing women’s talent and creativity. I do believe I would never have persisted with my playing if it had not been for those early experiences when women began to have the opportunity to create music and perform. At that time, there were two only female saxophone players who had any kind of visibility. Kathy Stobart was one, and I managed to get a lesson from her. I had a great time hanging out with her. She was very funny but had an underlying toughness, which she must have needed at that time. I was lucky in that there were many opportunities to perform, often at gigs with a political agenda. I played in a women’s band called Hi Jinx, which played African/Latin influenced dance music. We did regular gigs and I was practically earning a living from it.
Lee Konitz Quartet: Limehouse Blues, The New York Album
I also played with a women’s big band called Offbeat 17. Life was often quite leftfield then. Many people were squatting and there were always free places to play. The big band rehearsed in part of a derelict hospital in Islington. I even played in New York, at a gig on the Lower East Side. New York was exciting in the early 80s. It was edgy but there was music everywhere, especially jazz. I went to hear Lee Konitz at an intimate gig held in a small office at the top of a skyscraper. I sat on a sofa and he stood right in front of me. It was cool, elegant, exciting and great being so near to him playing.
I had a similar experience going to Ronnie Scott’s club in London. It was rammed, but there was one place free on its own, practically on the stage. So, I sat a few feet away from Bill Evans and listened to an amazingly spiritual performance. His playing was achingly sensitive and demonstrated the minimalism and use of space I loved in Miles Davis.
I had been working as a counsellor and social worker for some years by then, but felt more and more drawn to music. I joined an organization called Community Music led by drummer John Stevens, who became a friend. I loved his attitude to music and he engendered a spirit of adventure and openness. His Spontaneous Music Ensemble was inspired by American free jazz. His conceptual book Search and Reflect, written with bass player Julia Doyle, was very influential in crystalizing free improvisation concepts. Later I used the exercises in teaching, finding them so useful in approaching music in an open minded way. The London Musician’s Collective, at that time based in Primrose Hill, was a radical place to hear free jazz. The music had a zeitgeist of left wing politics, where the emphasis was on egalitarian group sharing rather than emphasis on the individual.
The ensemble Di’s New Outfit came out of Community Music and began as a free improvising group, later incorporating influences from Latin, Klezmer and East European folksong, at a time when the idea of “World” music was just being discovered in Europe. The group consisted of soprano saxophone, cello, violin, flute and percussion. I have always been interested in unusual instrumental combinations and fusing different musical genres. Later I formed the band Zdravets with Kim Burton. She is a marvelous Latin piano player but also wonderful on the accordion and an expert on East European folk music.
I had a similar experience going to Ronnie Scott’s club in London. It was rammed, but there was one place free on its own, practically on the stage. So, I sat a few feet away from Bill Evans and listened to an amazingly spiritual performance. His playing was achingly sensitive and demonstrated the minimalism and use of space I loved in Miles Davis.
I had been working as a counsellor and social worker for some years by then, but felt more and more drawn to music. I joined an organization called Community Music led by drummer John Stevens, who became a friend. I loved his attitude to music and he engendered a spirit of adventure and openness. His Spontaneous Music Ensemble was inspired by American free jazz. His conceptual book Search and Reflect, written with bass player Julia Doyle, was very influential in crystalizing free improvisation concepts. Later I used the exercises in teaching, finding them so useful in approaching music in an open minded way. The London Musician’s Collective, at that time based in Primrose Hill, was a radical place to hear free jazz. The music had a zeitgeist of left wing politics, where the emphasis was on egalitarian group sharing rather than emphasis on the individual.
The ensemble Di’s New Outfit came out of Community Music and began as a free improvising group, later incorporating influences from Latin, Klezmer and East European folksong, at a time when the idea of “World” music was just being discovered in Europe. The group consisted of soprano saxophone, cello, violin, flute and percussion. I have always been interested in unusual instrumental combinations and fusing different musical genres. Later I formed the band Zdravets with Kim Burton. She is a marvelous Latin piano player but also wonderful on the accordion and an expert on East European folk music.
Maria Schneider
The range of bands I have written/arranged for/played in reflects my eclectic interest in music. I played in two Columbian bands, Aracataca and Candela, arranged disco classics for big band in The Boogie Wonderland Big Band, played African highlife in Ghanaian band Bessa, played Greek music with Terryazoome and Martha Lewis and Eve Polycarpou, ballroom swing classics with The London Swingfonia and The Ladies Excuse Me Dance Orchestra and party pop standards with The Electric Landladies. All of which were tremendous fun.
After completing a Postgraduate diploma at the Guildhall, I became more seriously interested in jazz. The course was very bebop oriented and much of the theory was unfamiliar to me. I was the only female instrumentalist, though there were some tremendous singers, Stacey Kent being one. I was like a fish out of water and probably didn’t handle the experience well, but I did have the opportunity to write for a jazz big band, which was really exciting. Composing had always been an interest but was becoming more important to me. From this I got together my own big band, Giant Steppes, which went on to play at the London Jazz Festival on the Southbank Centre twice with one concert broadcast on BBC Radio 3. Looking back, it involved a tremendous amount of work, writing all the original scores and parts by hand. I regularly stayed up all night diligently writing out parts. Giant Steppes had a great critical response, but was difficult to maintain, especially as I suffered with illness for a couple of years, which sapped my energy.
Again, the style I was writing in was eclectic and not necessarily based on traditional big band language. Later I heard Maria Shneider’s music, which seemed much closer to what I was trying to achieve. I still have all the Giant Steppes original scores and am toying with the idea of digitizing them. Maybe one day they might be played again!
After completing a Postgraduate diploma at the Guildhall, I became more seriously interested in jazz. The course was very bebop oriented and much of the theory was unfamiliar to me. I was the only female instrumentalist, though there were some tremendous singers, Stacey Kent being one. I was like a fish out of water and probably didn’t handle the experience well, but I did have the opportunity to write for a jazz big band, which was really exciting. Composing had always been an interest but was becoming more important to me. From this I got together my own big band, Giant Steppes, which went on to play at the London Jazz Festival on the Southbank Centre twice with one concert broadcast on BBC Radio 3. Looking back, it involved a tremendous amount of work, writing all the original scores and parts by hand. I regularly stayed up all night diligently writing out parts. Giant Steppes had a great critical response, but was difficult to maintain, especially as I suffered with illness for a couple of years, which sapped my energy.
Again, the style I was writing in was eclectic and not necessarily based on traditional big band language. Later I heard Maria Shneider’s music, which seemed much closer to what I was trying to achieve. I still have all the Giant Steppes original scores and am toying with the idea of digitizing them. Maybe one day they might be played again!
The Casimir Connection
I have always followed my heart in my writing, experimenting and following paths that resonate with me at the time. Hence, my writing doesn’t follow a particular formula. My latest project The Casimir Connection fuses jazz improvisation with classical themes and again has an unusual lineup of saxophone, violin, piano and double bass. I knew I wanted to write some compositions expressing aspects of my early life, as a child in Yorkshire. I didn’t consciously set out to write this style of music but as I played around with ideas (mostly on the piano) the music naturally emerged. I then had the challenge of finding musicians who were equally at home playing jazz and classical music. I was fortunate to find some wonderful musicians who immediately got what I was trying to do, and put in the emotional intensity I wanted; Pawel Grudzien, equally adept at violin and piano, Tim Fairhall on double bass and Kit Massey on violin. I deliberately didn’t include drums in the line-up, which would have brought it more into the jazz sphere and filled the soundscape. My aim was to explore the emotional intensity of silence as a backdrop to the music, reflecting the contemplative, considered nature of the subject matter. An example of this can be heard on The Casimir Connection: Contemplation.
I had been very struck by the power of quietness and space in Tord Gustavsen’s music. It was going to one of his concerts that partly inspired me to create The Casimir Connection. I wanted to achieve a similar meditative, thoughtful quality in my own writing.Part of my enjoyment was also hearing the saxophonist Tore Brunborg, who plays with such sensitivity and has such a beautiful sound.
The pieces I wrote for The Casimir Connection are especially personal to me. They refer back to a childhood that wasn’t altogether happy. Through the music I tried to explore my difficult, unresolved feelings around my mum’s mental illness and my feelings of loneliness. I hope that they resonate with people who listen to them.
Our first album, Cause and Effect came out last year. Our last couple of gigs, pre Covid included some new material that’s yet to be recorded. I am hoping to write some more compositions and produce another album next year.
At the same time, I have continued writing more recognizably jazz-oriented music, mostly for the main band I play in, the Alison Rayner Quintet (ARQ). Alison Rayner is a long time friend and has been very supportive of me throughout my career. I love playing in her band, which has an unusual flavour of jazz with British folksong, which suits me very well. I also play with Alison in the Chris Hodgkins Quartet. Chris is another incredibly supportive person and a dear friend. Playing in his group encouraged me to explore swing and hard bop, which in turn led to listening more carefully to one of my favourite saxophone players, Dexter Gordon. I am in awe of his elegant but seemingly effortless phrasing, which I study a lot. I am hoping to get a band together dedicated to his music. (At the moment we have a gig lined up in November 2020 but who knows at this time!).
There are so many wonderful saxophone players but I find I am drawn to particular players who resonate with me. It has to be something to do with one’s own makeup, but I am drawn to what I perceive as authenticity. This means more to me than amazing technique or bravura, though these players have that as well. When Dexter plays I feel him speaking from the heart, meaning what he says, being true to himself. What is striking is how, in his phrasing, every note is as important as the other. There is no extraneous padding and each note sounds ‘meant’.
I hear that in John Coltrane as well, his pure tone expressing honesty, openness, self-exploration. Playing music can be so thrilling, feeling that you’re being lifted out of yourself, drawn into a greater spirit.
I also love this particular performance by John Handy. You can almost imagine how ecstatic he must have felt when at that moment in time he touched on something really special.
I play soprano, alto and tenor saxophones and I love them all, though I tend to spend most time practising the tenor. My choice of instrument depends on the music. I deliberately chose the soprano in The Casimir Connection to be in a similar acoustic range to the violin, to keep the music light and transparent. I also play the alto in this ensemble for some extra edge, though I use this less generally. Each instrument does elicit a different way of playing to a certain extent. I’ve always loved the soprano, especially for exploring music outside of jazz that may have a more folk influence.
So, Covid is here and musicians are being deprived of their lifeblood: playing with other musicians! We have to have faith, hope and patience. In the meantime, I am practising at home, enjoying the process of exploring new ideas and technique. I’m looking forward to working on The Casimir Connection’s second album. I’m hopeful that gigs for my new Dexter Gordon project will pan out, as will planned gigs with ARQ and Chris Hodgkins.
Onward and upward!'
I had been very struck by the power of quietness and space in Tord Gustavsen’s music. It was going to one of his concerts that partly inspired me to create The Casimir Connection. I wanted to achieve a similar meditative, thoughtful quality in my own writing.Part of my enjoyment was also hearing the saxophonist Tore Brunborg, who plays with such sensitivity and has such a beautiful sound.
The pieces I wrote for The Casimir Connection are especially personal to me. They refer back to a childhood that wasn’t altogether happy. Through the music I tried to explore my difficult, unresolved feelings around my mum’s mental illness and my feelings of loneliness. I hope that they resonate with people who listen to them.
Our first album, Cause and Effect came out last year. Our last couple of gigs, pre Covid included some new material that’s yet to be recorded. I am hoping to write some more compositions and produce another album next year.
At the same time, I have continued writing more recognizably jazz-oriented music, mostly for the main band I play in, the Alison Rayner Quintet (ARQ). Alison Rayner is a long time friend and has been very supportive of me throughout my career. I love playing in her band, which has an unusual flavour of jazz with British folksong, which suits me very well. I also play with Alison in the Chris Hodgkins Quartet. Chris is another incredibly supportive person and a dear friend. Playing in his group encouraged me to explore swing and hard bop, which in turn led to listening more carefully to one of my favourite saxophone players, Dexter Gordon. I am in awe of his elegant but seemingly effortless phrasing, which I study a lot. I am hoping to get a band together dedicated to his music. (At the moment we have a gig lined up in November 2020 but who knows at this time!).
There are so many wonderful saxophone players but I find I am drawn to particular players who resonate with me. It has to be something to do with one’s own makeup, but I am drawn to what I perceive as authenticity. This means more to me than amazing technique or bravura, though these players have that as well. When Dexter plays I feel him speaking from the heart, meaning what he says, being true to himself. What is striking is how, in his phrasing, every note is as important as the other. There is no extraneous padding and each note sounds ‘meant’.
I hear that in John Coltrane as well, his pure tone expressing honesty, openness, self-exploration. Playing music can be so thrilling, feeling that you’re being lifted out of yourself, drawn into a greater spirit.
I also love this particular performance by John Handy. You can almost imagine how ecstatic he must have felt when at that moment in time he touched on something really special.
I play soprano, alto and tenor saxophones and I love them all, though I tend to spend most time practising the tenor. My choice of instrument depends on the music. I deliberately chose the soprano in The Casimir Connection to be in a similar acoustic range to the violin, to keep the music light and transparent. I also play the alto in this ensemble for some extra edge, though I use this less generally. Each instrument does elicit a different way of playing to a certain extent. I’ve always loved the soprano, especially for exploring music outside of jazz that may have a more folk influence.
So, Covid is here and musicians are being deprived of their lifeblood: playing with other musicians! We have to have faith, hope and patience. In the meantime, I am practising at home, enjoying the process of exploring new ideas and technique. I’m looking forward to working on The Casimir Connection’s second album. I’m hopeful that gigs for my new Dexter Gordon project will pan out, as will planned gigs with ARQ and Chris Hodgkins.
Onward and upward!'
References & Recommended Listening (all links sourced by Diane)
Selective Discography
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Click on the album covers for reviews and more information.
