Monday, December 6, 2021

LEFTOVERS: WOODWINDS: DICK HECKSTALL-SMITH

I'm enjoying my leftovers this year, the opportunity to concentrate on individuals who have caught my ears and my heart these last several few decades. The late Dick H-S is one of these, and given he died very nearly 17 years ago, his may be a name may are unfamiliar with. However you may well be familiar with some of the bands he added his mercurial sax playing to, even if, again, only by their name or that of better known members. So he was a member of Blues Incorporated, The Graham Bond Organisation, John Mayall's Bluesbreakers and then Colosseum, treading the boards with names such as Charlie Watts, Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker, John McLaughlin and Mick Taylor. I first spotted him in that last band, as I flipped thru' the discs in the Eastbourne record store that indulged my daily appearances there, as a schoolboy, listening to all the weird and wonderful bands of the early 70s. The cover of their first album intrigued me: who was the old and bald bloke in city attire, alongside the rest of the band, all otherwise in de rigeur hair and flares combos?

Valentyne Suite was a very cool choice of record at my school. The second album by Colosseum, it also had the virtue of being cheaper than most other LPs, perhaps as it was the first release of the Vertigo label, an offshoot of Phonogram, and designed to make the label seem hipper, in much the way as other companies were doing the same, viz Harvest "disguising" its more staid EMI parent. Again, as was not unusual, it had a side long suite on one side, a popular step by the 'underground' (later 'progressive') bands of the day, like Pink Floyd and the yet to be uncool Emerson, Lake and Palmer. A mix of blues, rock, jazz and classical themes infused this title piece, and it remains one of my favourite nostalgic wallows. The other side contained four rather jazzier options, which, then at least, had fewer plays, my mind not yet ready for the J word. It was Dave Greenslade's organ solo that most instantly appealed, but, with time, my appreciation of the saxophone sounds of Heckstall-Smith that gathered most traction, alternately corncrake and clarion in turn. The bass and drums, Tony Reeves and Jon Hiseman, were pretty tidy also, with the guitar of (whatever happened to) James Litherland appropriately present and correct.

Valentyne Suite/Colosseum (1969)

Of course, there was a lot more to the band than just this piece, and I avidly devoured further releases, at least until the changes in band membership led to the unaccountable decision to bring in old foghorn leghorn himself, Chris Farlowe, which was a step too far, effectively ruining the b(r)and. But, to give a little more Dick, whilst you know the tune, I quite like here what they do with it:

Beware the Ides of March/Colosseum (1969)

Heckstall-Smith and his two simultaneous saxophones was certainly not done when Colosseum first split, in 1971, taking part in various group and solo projects, if all somewhat beneath the radar. Indeed, even when regrouping with old friends, acclaim and attention remained distant, at least until a 90s reformation of Colosseum, if marred, inevitably, by the vocal mayhem alluded to earlier. But welcome otherwise. A late solo recording, Blue and Beyond, also contained some moments to cherish, not least when linking up with old friends like Mick Taylor, in 2001. By now he was looking rather more the expected jazz daddio hipster look. 

Spooky But Nice/Dick Heckstall-Smith & Friends (2001)

Here he is again, with old mucker Jack Bruce, at a live festival appearance.

Mellow Down Easy/Jack Bruce & Friends (1988)

Plus, for good measure, here is the reformed Colosseum, with a live reprise of Valentyne Suite.

Valentyne Suite/Colosseum (1994)

He died in 2004, with a not insubstantial body of work, yet is more likely to be remembered for who he played alongside than for his own exemplary brand of woodwind. I hope this may tickle the odd palate into looking backward at his catalogue.

Those who enjoy lively lookings back at the life and times of the jobbing musician could do a lot worse than checking out his book, Blowing the Blues, from 2004, the year he died, itself an expanded version of an earlier volume, 1984's The Safest Place in the World. On that subject, the fact he died of acute liver failure, if aged 70, may possibly fit well with any image of the jazz, blues and rock scenes he inhabited for the 50 years preceding.

Here.



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