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Jim Galloway Obituary

Jim Galloway (& Duke Heitger), Norwich Jazz Party, 2011

(c) Alison Kerr, 2011

Jim Galloway, who has died at the age of 78, was one of the leading exponents of the soprano saxophone in jazz. Not only was he a wonderful musician and organiser; he was also one of the warmest, friendliest and least egocentric of talents. A kind, witty character with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and gentle west coast accent which he never lost, despite having spent more of his life in Canada than in his native Scotland, he loved the music, loved other people who loved the music, and seemed to represent what’s best about the jazz community – its spirit of camaraderie.

Any time his name came up in conversation – whether with American, Scottish or French musicians – eyes would light up, and somebody would tell a story and want to be remembered to him. It’s impossible to separate the man from the music: both were full of infectious, often gleeful, enthusiasm and irrepressible joie-de-vivre.

Jim Galloway, Bruce Turner, Warren Vache, Edinburgh Jazz Fest, 1988

Jim Galloway, Bruce Turner, Warren Vache, Edinburgh Jazz Festival, 1988 (c) Donnie Kerr

American cornettist Warren Vaché says: “He was a caring and honest musician whose sense of fun and humour were always present, and whose love of puns in speech seemed to translate into a love of quotes in his solos.” Glaswegian clarinettist Forrie Cairns – who first met “Jimmy” at the Evening Times’ annual Jazz Band Championships at the St Andrew’s Halls, when Galloway was with the Esquire Jazz Band and he was with the Jim McHarg Jazz Band – remembers him as “one of the few true gentlemen of jazz”.

James Braidie Galloway was born in Kilwinning, Ayrshire, in 1936, and raised in Dalry. During his teens he taught himself to play the clarinet (the only music lessons he had as a child were on the chanter for the bagpipes), and spent all his pocket money on jazz records. In a 1992 interview with Jazz Journal, he said that hearing a chorus by Frank Teschemacher on the Eddie Condon Quartet recording of Indiana was a defining moment. “I’ve never copied a chorus played by another musician. But I do remember that I sat there and laboriously wrote out Teschemacher’s chorus on that recording. It really made an impression.”

An avid radio listener, the teenage Galloway soaked up inspiration from many instrumentalists, notably trumpeter Louis Armstrong, trombonist Vic Dickenson and saxophonists Johnny Hodges and Ben Webster. But, as was evident in later life when he was at home in any jazz context, he also grew up listening to the emerging bop players. His late teens coincided with the trad jazz revival, when there were plenty of opportunities for a young jazz clarinettist to play every weekend in Scotland’s major cities, and the unlikely mecca for trad enthusiasts in Glasgow was Whitecraigs Tennis Club, on the southside.

Jim Galloway, Norwich Jazz Party, 2011

(c) Alison Kerr

By 1964, the scene had changed. Gigs were fewer and further between and Galloway’s “itchy feet” took him to Canada. He arrived in Toronto on Saturday, July 4, 1964 and, decades later, said: “I still remember the first evening. I went in to this place called the Colonial Tavern and literally stopped dead in my tracks. My first night in North America, and there’s a bandstand and on it are Herman Autrey, Vic Dickenson and Buster Bailey.. I thought “Jesus Christ! This is heaven!”

Due to union rules, Galloway couldn’t operate immediately as a full-time musician so he took on design work, but he involved himself in the Toronto jazz scene right from day one, sitting in on jam sessions and playing with several local bands. In 1967, he joined the Metro Stompers, led by the afore-mentioned fellow Scot Jim McHarg. Two years later, McHarg asked him to take over – and this indirectly gave birth to the other major strand of his jazz career: as an organiser. Within months, Galloway had brought in his first guest star – the legendary stride pianist Willie “the Lion” Smith. This led to Galloway booking such other ageing greats as pianist Teddy Wilson into the club Bourbon Street.

A fallow period for musicians in the early 1970s led to Galloway breaking up the band, and taking a high school teaching job. But in 1975, his international jazz career was launched when his drummer friend Paul Rimstead put together a band that included Galloway and Buddy Tate on saxes and Buck Clayton on trumpet, and took it to jazz festivals in France. “It changed my life,” Galloway later said. “I quit teaching on the strength of five weeks’ work. I remember going to the principal’s office to resign. He thought I was crazy.”

By now, he was playing saxophone – mostly soprano, but he had also mastered alto, tenor and baritone. (Indeed, the last time I heard Jim Galloway, at the 2012 Norwich Jazz Party, he surprised everyone by playing a duo set on a baritone borrowed from Karen Sharp five minutes before kick-off. It was the highlight of the weekend.) He played the straight soprano sax from 1967, until three years later, when a drummer pal gave him a shot of a curved one and “it was love at first blow.” His sound on soprano was utterly distinctive and owed nothing to anyone, especially not to its most famous exponent, Sidney Bechet.

In 1985, Galloway and his then-wife Rosemary, were commissioned to write a major composition, entitled Hot & Suite, to be performed by the Scottish National Orchestra plus jazz ensemble at the Edinburgh International Festival. The hour-long piece featured a host of jazz musicians (including Warren Vaché) who had performed at the Edinburgh Jazz Festival that week.

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Jim Galloway (in characteristic pose) & Spanky Davis, Edinburgh Jazz Festival, 1988 (c) Donnie Kerr

In 2002, Galloway received the most prestigious arts award in France when the government made him a Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres for enriching French culture.

In Toronto, the tireless Galloway kept a 17-piece group, the Wee Big Band, going from 1978 until his death, recorded a string of albums for Sackville Records, hosted a radio show through the 1980s, and went on to co-found what became the Toronto Jazz Festival in 1987. He was its artistic director until he retired from the post in 2009, by which point he was also a columnist for The Whole Note magazine. In the Toronto Star’s obituary of Galloway, Fay Olson – one of the team which produced the festival– said: “Toronto wouldn’t have a jazz festival if it wasn’t for Jim. He was a lovely guy, one of those who sees the good in everyone and always finds a reason to laugh.”

Indeed, the worst anybody could say about him is that he couldn’t keep his puns to himself.

He died after several months’ illness, and is survived by his second wife, Anne.

* James Braidie Galloway, born July 28, 1936; died December 30, 2014.

First published in The Herald, Saturday January 17

 

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Norwich Jazz Party 2012: Jim Galloway

This sublime Duke Ellington number was my very favourite piece played by the wonderful Scots ex-pat saxophonist Jim Galloway and the ever-delightful pianist Rossano Sportiello at the Norwich Jazz Party.

Anyone who assumed that Galloway would be playing his usual soprano sax for his duo set with Sportiello was, as you can see, in for a surprise as he had borrowed Karen Sharp’s baritone for the occasion and played the whole set on it.

I love hearing great musicians in the intimate, duo setting – and this particular set was a joy from start to finish, thanks to the chemistry between the players, the top-rate performances and the imaginative choice of tunes which included such gems as Black Butterfly (Ellington), Lotus Blossom (Strayhorn) and Old-Fashioned Love (James P Johnson).

Here’s another one they played which I’ve never heard live before – the jaunty Santa Claus Blues 

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Norwich Jazz Party 2012: Assorted Highlights

The Norwich Jazz Party strikes just the right balance between the completely informal, thrown-together, “jam” sets and arranged sets which have a rehearsal and charts and more esoteric material. I love both – and both formats produced some magic last weekend. Such as? Well,  that first track came from the opening night’s jam session. Or try this Drop Me Off in Harlem, which combusted into action so spontaneously that I didn’t even have the camera ready. And, no, that’s not Robert Redford on the soprano sax: it’s Bob Wilber, who, having hit 84, now seems to be rewinding towards his sprightly seventies…Another number which I was delighted to have captured on camera was this funky take on No Moon At All by singer Rebecca Kilgore with Craig Milverton (piano), Harry Allen (tenor sax) and Eddie Erickson (guitar) all featured. Of the sets featuring arrangements, my favourites were undoubtedly the Benny Carter set, led by Ken Peplowski, and Alan Barnes’s Ellington set – of which this sublime Sultry Sunset, featuring the national treasure that is Mr Barnes, was a stand-out.

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What Bix Means to Me: Jim Galloway

(c) Alison Kerr, 2011

The Scottish-born, Toronto-based soprano saxophonist has always loved the legendary Bix Beiderbecke‘s “beautiful tone and great melodic and harmonic sense” – and first heard his music as a youngster listening to BBC radio.

He was lucky enough to get to know older musicians, such as the clarinettist Pee Wee Russell, who were colleagues of Bix during his heyday. Indeed, Jim paid tribute to both during this year’s Norwich Jazz Party when he played I’d Climb the Highest Mountain, a beautiful ballad which Russell told Jim he liked to play “because it was a favourite of Bix’s”.

Typically, Jim has a funny Bix-related story:  “A few years ago I was in LA, and Betty O’Hara, a very good horn player and singer was also on the gig. One morning, I came out of the elevator just as Betty came out of another one just opposite. We said our hellos, and then Betty said: ‘Did I tell you that I bought a parrot?’ I said that she hadn’t mentioned it so then she said: ‘Guess what his name is?’ I had no idea, and then she hit me with it … ‘Beaks Bite or Peck!’

“Two of my favourite tracks are Singin’ the Blues (it was Eddie Higgins’s favourite too) and, for great hot ensemble playing, the first chorus of San, recorded in 1928 with Paul Whiteman. And we must not forget his remarkably modern piano compositions – In a Mist, In the Dark, Flashes, Cloudy and Candlelights.”

Tomorrow: Jon-Erik Kellso.

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My Silver Jubilee in Jazz (Part 1)

The Edinburgh Jazz Festival starts on Friday, July 22nd and I’m both mortified and proud to declare that this year is the 25th anniversary not only of my first-ever Edinburgh Jazz Festival, but also of my first-ever jazz concert (and first-ever visit to a pub with my dad) … and it all happened on one day: Thursday, August 21st, 1986. I relived that fateful day in my first-ever (bit of a theme emerging here) Edinburgh Jazz Festival preview feature which was written, in 1993, while I was still a student and about 20 articles into my journalistic career. I remembered August 21st 1986 much more vividly when I wrote that article than I do now, so here it is:And here are the pages from the programme with the tantalising list of concerts I attended – as well as those I didn’t..

And then the main event:

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Norwich Jazz Party 2011: Monday evening

The last night of the Norwich jazz jamboree started in what has become its traditional style: with Jim Galloway’s Sandy Brown set. One of the joys of this jazz event for me personally – and one which I always remind myself about during the hellish seven-hour train journey from Glasgow – is the chance to hear Galloway and assorted British and American stars execute with panache the very distinctive music written by the late, great Scottish clarinettist.

This was the third Sandy Brown set in as many years and, as usual, the quirky and catchy Brown originals were a delight to hear – Blues-A and Own Up proved to be the ideal tunes for getting the night’s party started. Galloway takes great care to avoid duplication of numbers played in previous years so I finally got to hear the evocative Harlem Fats and, for this outing of the Sandy Brown songbook, he also included some of the arrangements that Brown played from the musical Hair. Personally, I could listen to the Brown repertoire all night – and would have welcomed the chance to hear such previously played numbers as Go Ghana and Africa Blues again.

This year’s Sandy line-up bore a close resemblance to the 2009 version: the wonderful Rossano Sportiello again proving to be the perfect pianist for this witty music, and drummer Chuck Riggs and trombonist Ian Bateman both similarly reprising their parts. Stepping into what have been Bucky Pizzarelli’s shoes in previous years, guitarist Dave Cliff did a terrific job. Each year there has been a different trumpeter – we’ve had Jon-Erik Kellso, Randy Reinhart and this time Duke Heitger who certainly measured up to the previous incumbents despite being unfamiliar with Brown and his music.

One trumpeter who always makes a point of listening to some of the Sandy Brown set but who hasn’t yet had a chance to get stuck into Jim Galloway’s uplifting arrangements is Warren Vache. He was partnered with tenor saxophonist Houston Person for his final appearance of the Jazz Party, and it was a heavenly match, especially when it came to the set’s two ballads, Once in a While and These Foolish Things, both of which were played as lovely, relaxed duets.

And speaking of ballads, tenor saxophonist  Scott Hamilton – another great master of the genre – produced some magical moments on Monday, most memorably a dreamy take on the rarely played Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most.

It was, however, the clarinettists – Alan Barnes, Bob Wilber, Ken Peplowski, Dan Block and Scott Robinson – who dominated the closing set of the 2011 Norwich Jazz Party. And, in a superb set, one number stood out above all others: Pee Wee’s Blues, written by Pee Wee Russell, who was described by Alan Barnes as “possibly the most technically brilliant clarinet player who ever lived”.

Not only did it boast a terrific, Pee Wee-esque solo from the great Bob Wilber but it will also be remembered for Scott Robinson’s masterstroke: by way of homage to the slightly oddball Russell sound, he hummed the first part of his solo into his horn – with wonderfully lyrical results.

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Norwich Jazz Party 2011: Monday afternoon

The last day of the Norwich Jazz Party got off to a rousing start. If ever there was a set guaranteed to wake you up it was the one which launched the sensational new CD by Alan Barnes and Warren Vache – The London Session (Woodville Records). I have to confess to feeling a sort of  motherly pride as they began playing the music which was already very familiar to me as I wrote the liner notes for the record, and had interviewed them extensively in the process.

So, hearing the very distinctive and stylish arrangements of such numbers as My Funny Valentine and, especially, a hangover-blasting Molasses played live was a particular treat. And, since not all of the Woodville All-Stars, with whom Barnes and Vache recorded the CD, were at the party, they were replaced by the likes of trombonist John Allred, and multi-instrumentalist Scott Robinson, adding a different flavour to the tunes.

Barnes himself farmed out his baritone sax duties to Karen Sharp (who turned in a gorgeous extended solo on Sophisticated Lady), and was able to devote himself to some ace alto solo work instead, notably on an uptempo Love For Sale – a number which also had him playing bass clarinet.

For Sharp, The London Session er, session was an excellent warm-up for her own set of Gerry Mulligan-associated music later in the afternoon. It was interesting to note how many of the musicians made a point of listening to her set – the same thing happened with pianist Rossano Sportiello’s solo session later that night. And no wonder: both are lovely, lyrical players who grabbed the audience’s attention and kept them spellbound.

In fact, having your attention grabbed and then being bound to your seat are the risks you run if you attend a jazz party like this. The fear of missing what might turn out to be THE set of the weekend leads to marathon bouts of sitting still (some of the audience members looked as if they should be checked over for DVT), and, frankly, after a while the music just starts to wash over you. (I was completely jazz-lagged by Sunday afternoon.)

My leg is still bruised from the kicking I gave myself for missing most of the Basie set led by Rossano Sportiello on Sunday at lunchtime – the self-abuse began almost as soon as Scott Hamilton wrapped his horn around a sumptuous Blue and Sentimental… At least I got to hear him and Sportiello again – this time in a duo, playing some glorious music from their recent CD – on Monday afternoon. Among the many highlights was a high speed This Can’t Be Love – featuring a rollicking solo from Sportiello and Hamilton working up a head of steam on tenor – and the poignant ballad A Garden in the Rain which highlighted the tenderness and gentleness of Sportiello’s piano playing in particular.

Of course, there’s just no way I would ever risk missing the Ken ‘n’ Marty show – sadly only 20 minutes long this year but one for the history books as it featured this longstanding double act’s first onstage kiss, midway through Ken Peplowski’s sung serenade to Marty Grosz (pictured above) of When Did You Leave Heaven? Amidst the hilarity there was some lovely music – for the serenade they were joined by John Pearce (piano),  Alec Dankworth (bass) and John Allred whose mellow obbligato work behind Peplowski’s vocals was a delight. Peplowski himself was on great form, notably on a speed limit-breaking version of Walter Donaldson’s You, an old favourite of this duo. And Grosz, who has enjoyed better health this year than before last year’s Norwich expedition, was in similarly fine fettle, and evidently relishing the musical and comedy antics.

Other stand-out moments of the afternoon? Pianist Tardo Hammer’s elegant and funky set which revealed the great rapport he’s established with British drum whiz Steve Brown, Dan Block’s set of colourful and complex, John Kirby-style arrangements of Fats Waller songs, and Jim Galloway’s serene tribute to Pee Wee Russell – I’d Climb the Highest Mountain. When the young Galloway complimented Russell on his handling of the tune, he was told that he liked to play it “because it was a favourite of Bix’s”.

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