Music

Now in its fourteenth year, the London Jazz Festival has grown from its early incarnation as the Camden Jazz Festival to the capital’s widest-ranging music festival, taking in more than 150 gigs in 30 venues, from the South Bank to the Barbican to the recently reopened Roundhouse. There’s also a wonderfully vibrant fringe taking place in venues like Koko and Cargo as well as more established jazz venues such as the Spitz, Pizza Express Jazz Club and the Vortex. Last year’s festival not only witnessed record attendances but it was also overwhelmingly voted Time Out readers’ favourite festival. Feature continues

The LJF’s strength is the sheer diversity of musics that now find shelter under the umbrella of ‘jazz’, from world music to club-friendly beats; from iconic figures of jazz’s great past to contemporary pioneers like London drummer Seb Rochford. This year’s artist in residence is guitarist Marc Ribot, who kicks off the festival on Friday with a tribute to the troubled genius of saxophonist Albert Ayler.

Ayler’s body was found floating in New York’s East River in November 1970, yet he remains both the focal point of this festival and is one of the most divisive figures in jazz history: the missing link between New Orleans trad, freeform jazz and punk rock. He burst onto the free jazz scene of ’60s New York as part of the wave of angry young musicians that included Cecil Taylor, Ornettte Coleman and Archie Shepp. His honking sax heralded a savage assault on the very building blocks of jazz, outraging all but a few musicians and critics.

In a pre-echo of punk, he seemed determined to rip up what had gone before and start again. He built his ravaging music on the ‘joyful noise’ of early jazz and earthy R&B (he started out as an alto blower in Little Walter’s soul band) and his huge saxophone sound was a humanised scream that grew from the primeval power of gut-bucket blues and gospel. He challenged the jazz tradition by ignoring the innovations of swing and bop and marrying the early cacophony of New Orleans jazz (where everyone pretty much improvised at the same time) with the tonal attack of free jazz. His classic trio album ‘Spiritual Unity’ is a masterpiece of controlled, brutal collective interplay that still sounds shocking over 40 years later. It was described at the time as like hearing someone shout ‘fuck’ in St Patrick’s Cathedral.