The Strange Tale of How I Came to Meet Spike 'I Prefer Jazz' Heatley

Was it Oscar Wilde who once said; "There is only one thing in life worse than having the internet, and that is not having the internet"? Perhaps I'm getting him mixed up with someone else. But, were it not for the internet the following little tale would never have happened and, naturally, you would not be reading it now.

On April 8th last year, my wife Debbie and I celebrated our wedding anniversary with a glass or two of wine in our favourite Hastings wine bar before heading to a nearby pub to see our friend Wendy DJ to a packed crowd of boozy dancers. Wendy introduced us to her friend Merrill, visiting Hastings for the weekend, who said she would soon be moving to the town. After congratulating her on her choice of location we chatted and, as it is the 21st century, became Facebook pals the next day.

The following Saturday I took the trouble to queue for the first time for Record Store Day. The wonderful Soho Scene series of jazz albums was releasing its 1964 edition and I didn't want to miss out on a copy. Disc secured, I headed home to listen to it. It was up to the same high standard of the others in the series, but one track in particular grabbed me. When I say grabbed me, I meant it entranced me; 'Times Two and a Half' by Bill Le Sage & the New Directions in Jazz Unit.



I needed to know more about this combo, never having heard of Bill or his crew before. [My love of jazz is in its relative infancy having crept up on me in my late 40s]. What I found on the net was very little, but footage of two tracks survive from a Jazz 625 broadcast, including 'Times Two and a Half'.
 

Well, this was quite a revelation. I could not stop playing this youtube clip. Over and over. Utterly mesmerised; from the cool cat with the 'tache and double bass who kicks it off, to the four cellos that follow. Yes, cellos! To what becomes a showcase for the extraordinary talent of Johnny Scott on alto sax, with a little punctuation from Mr LS himself on my favourite jazz instrument, the vibes, and superbly understated drums from Tony Carr. The bassist was Spike Heatley, a name that rang a bell from sleevenotes of Johnny Dankworth Orchestra albums and from watching the bearded resident musician on BBC's Play Away in the early 70s,

I discovered that the Unit was put together at the request of the BBC, commissioning Bill Le Sage to 'do something different' for a forthcoming broadcast on the light programme. His idea was to augment his core sextet with the four cellists and see what happens. The broadcast was a success, which led to the Jazz 625 appearance and three albums. I researched the albums on Discogs and added them to my wants list. On 22nd April I popped in to my local secondhand record shop Wow and Flutter and right at the front of the jazz section was the rare Directions in Jazz, the Unit's first album, for a mere £15.

I cannot get over how wonderful this piece of music is and  posted the aforementioned youtube clip on my Facebook page and chirped about my good fortune in landing their disc in the traditional manner, without having to resort to the net.

For the next four weeks, running in to May, Bill Le Sage's New directions in Jazz was all I was listening to, still mesmerised by that cat on the double bass and his cohorts in dinner attire.

Three or four weeks after my Facebook posting the same clip appeared on my newsfeed via my new friend Merrill. 'Hey, I didn't know she liked jazz. What good taste!' was my immediate thought. Then it slapped me in the face like a custard pie. It wasn't Merrill who had posted the clip, it was her brother; 'Hey look, it's dad!'

Dad?!

My new friend who I'd met eight days before hearing this mind-blowing life-changing piece of music for the first time is the daughter of that cat with the 'tache on the double bass, Spike Heatley.

Without the internet I would be the proud owner of Soho Scene '64 and the New Directions in Jazz albums, still searching for their follow up Road To Ellingtonia and I would be friends with Merrill. But, it's unlikely I would have discovered that she liked jazz, less still that her dad was Spike.

Life moves in mysterious ways like a sly fox with a top hat, cape and a silver cane. That was definitely one of Oscar's, wasn't it?

So, it's June 2017 and Merrill is long settled in Hastings and dad Spike is visiting from his home in France. And I got to meet him. And it was one of the greatest evenings of my life. I'm not exaggerating. I don't mean Top Five, but Top Fifty say, which out of 19,000 nights still ranks as damn special, Let's say it was a pretty good evening.

Here isn't the place for a verbatim account of the conversation. Suffice to say we talked music, listened to music, ate cheese, drank (I red wine, he gin and tonic, Merrill water, and Debbie joined us later for some white wine) and talked more music. His stories, tales, anecdotes and words of wisdom I intend to document before they leave my sieve-like mind.

It gave me so much joy to play him this dusty clip of Tubby Hayes' Big Band at Ronnie Scott's in 1969 and hear him pick out the players from  the grainy footage; Peter King, Spike Wells, Ian Hamer, Les Condon, Ron Mathewson, Kenny Wheeler, Alan Branscombe, Louis Stewart... randomly interspersed with "...knew him...nice fella he  was...played with him...he was a good mate of mine...played with him...he was a good player..."


I came to realise that when we mortals talk of our favourite musicians we often reach for superlatives to emphasise what they mean to us. For the best of the best, the creme de la creme, it is sufficient to say "He was a good player". There is no need for any further superlative from peers. They know what a simple "Good" means from one of their clan.

The anecdotes continued and the names flowed, some of which meant more to me than others; Dizzy Gillespie, Ronnie Stephenson, Johnny Dankworth, Vic Ash, Donovan, John Barry, Cleo, Marion Montgomery, Laurie Holloway, Alan Hawkshaw, Jack Parnell, Petula Clark, Tony Hatch, Jackie Trent, Johnny Butts, Martin Taylor, Lalo Schifrin, Malcolm Mortimore, Danny Moss, Alan Barnes, Peter Knight, Angela Morley, and a particular favourite of Spike's, the tragic Beverly Kenney.

It wasn't all rosy. My eyes were opened by his verdict on a drummer I have long admired; "Didn't like playing with him. Nah, too stiff. He couldn't relax, his playing didn't flow. Lovely fella, but he needed to lighten up."

He played with Alexis Korner's Blues Incorporated in their early days. Again, "lovely guy, he asked me to do it, but it wasn't my type of music."

He was approached to play for Buddy Rich ("What a technician") in London, but the charts included a number requiring electric bass so Spike turned it down. "Nah, I tried it once, didn't like it." Did you regret that, I asked? "No. Why would I? I had work coming out my ears back then."

I heard the Rod Stewart stories. Spike had played on two of Rod's solo albums when the Tartan Mod was at the height of his powers and was credited on Never a Dull Moment as 'Spike (I prefer jazz) Heatley'! The two went way back, way, way back. He'd dated Rod's youngest sister Peggy and unbeknown to the young couple their pairs of parents had been close friends for years. "Rod was mischief. Even as a kid. He got my old mum pissed! She didn't drink, just a little one now and again, and she was playing the piano at a party at home, with ten-year-old Rod acting as bar tender for the assembly, except he kept sneaking tots into her glass so that when she went to stand up I had to grab her from falling over."

I played some of my favourite albums that Merrill had asked me to bring over ("But not dad's. He doesn't want to hear his stuff!"). Jobim, "Aah, I love a bit of Jobim"; Cal Tjader "my vibes player in my quartet, dear Jim Lawless, his favourite player was Cal Tjader"; the Bird Curtis Quintet "Blimey, that bassist is a bit good (a young Daryl Runswick). Cor, not 'arf is he."

Self-taught, he was a professional musician two years after first picking up a bass, Spike emphasised the importance of being able to read music and became animated when telling me of those he's crossed paths with who've never bothered to learn. "I'll teach ya, I said. It's not difficult. It's just maths. I could teach you in a week!" It's the only time he blows his own trumpet when he admits that he reached a certain point where "I could read a score. I was a good sight reader."

So, there were many more. Tales of recording sessions, on the road, overseas, bit parts in films, but I'll finish with two more.

One of my first questions from my mental list of 'I must ask Spike this' was "Did you know Dudley Moore?" Spike's answer was hilarious and will be a favourite anecdote of mine for many a day. Ask me when we next cross paths. Suffice that he and Dudley were great pals from their days in the Johnny Dankworth Orchestra.  (I found out Spike is playing on that wonderful Dankworth score on one of my favourite films Saturday Night & Sunday Morning).

I hope I haven't made it sound like it was a cavalcade of famous names I've known. He is a very modest man and doesn't see that what he has done makes him a pretty special character. A bit like Charlie Watts in that respect. Well, perhaps he does, but you wouldn't know. He remains a music fan, which gave us common ground - a love of great music and an admiration of great musicians.

We rounded off the evening with a couple of photos and he kindly signed a couple of treasured albums for me. Oh, and I got to shake the hand that shook the hand of Dr Martin Luther King. But that's another story.

The following day I texted Merrill to tell her I intended to write a blog and would Spike mind? She replied "Dad said he needs the publicity at his age!"

Thanks Merrill. Thanks Spike.