To the 'Burgh and back 12th-15th March

Hello and Welcome,

My two week malaise off the air has come to end, allow me to explain. I have had a cultural bonanza as a result of a connection into the Jazz world.

Thanks to my well informed Jazzer, we managed to obtain press passes to the would-be Jazz event of the year. The revered new voice of Jazz in the form of E.S.T. - that's the Esbjorn Svensson Trio - reign had come to an abrupt end following the tragic death of Esbjorn Svensson himself in a diving accident in 2008. The Bassist of the group- Dan Burglund- had released his first album since the dissolution of E.S.T. Dan Burgland's Tonbruket, after assembling an untraditional Jazz quartet with a pedal steel/guitar alongside the formidable piano, drums and bass. The event would be heralded by the Jazz world as an exciting new direction for the band as well as Jazz itself.

Saturday night in Edinburgh, I had travelled with my friend to the Queen's Hall of Edinburgh, for the event of the century.

After listening to the album the previous evening I was slightly disheartened as what I heard bore little resemblance to Jazz, and for that matter was at times badly mixed and altogether a poor effort with weak tracks unworthy of a b-side.

Luckily the live set started off like a fire cracker, pulsating chords thronged into the hall from the Hammond organ as 'Sad Sister' opened the night. Unfortunately the energy dissipated some what after the organist picked up his violin for an incongruous folk ditty.

My poor friend put his head in his hands and muttered that this wasn't good.

The band proceeded through the set only to literally run out power as the entire set was brought to halt due to a power failure. Speculation points to the late Esbjorn Svensson reaching out from the occult to put an end to this musical Hindenburg.

The band at this point took a small intermission to reassemble and address the technical hitch.

The Concert sadly continued and folky pop-rock instrumentals with no obvious improvisations effused from the stage.

My friend did not write his review, as in the end nobody profits from a slating.

Upon exiting, the air was thick with the smell of stale rugby scores and musical sterility.

Our accommodation for the night was in the shape of a Youth Hostel where we were kept up after the drunken louts from the rugby duel bickered and giggled until 3am, at which point a man with a lighter sat uneasily on one of the lower bunks and flicked his lighter a few times before passing out on the mattress. He proceeded to engage in the liveliest sleep talk for full hour mentioning something about 'interesting and bastard' in a thick Glaswegian accent. Finally at 6am I closed my eyes and surfaced two hours later feeling petrified.

Our connection to Dunfermline was on time and the delightful circular route took us to the holiday inn where the Swedish faux rock stars assembled. My friend had his interview and we chugged back to Edinburgh in the back of a Vauxhall Corsa courtesy of his friend from Aberdeen making an appearance. We lunched at a confused middle eastern restaurant off Grassmarket where the menu boasted of Kurdish delicacies juxtaposed to Indian items such as Biryani and Naan.


Monday morning, caught my 9.27 back from Durham to Kings Cross, changing at York and I feel utterly renewed. New direction, new focus and new message, from here on after, I am the John Peel of Jazz.

To round off a good weekend my Jazzzman has vouched for me and I'll be at Jazz on 3 by the middle of month next for work experience.


Benny