In a league of their own

So last week, I went into central London to the world-famous Ronnie Scott's jazz bar. All powernapped and ready to drop some riffs, I got in at 11:30 to see the band for the night play. Boy were they good. Their sax player was brilliant, excellent technique producing a rich sound. 

Got speaking to the promoter for the night to get my name down for the jam. He says "sure, we've got loads of horns tonight but stick around and we'll sort a number got you. The band have set the bar." in his gritty don't-mess-with-me East London accent.

As the jam starts, the promotor gets up, pulls out a sax and starts playing himself. And he's out-of-this-world good on his 10 minute solo. Then he plays another. And another. Then another two separate sax plays come on a smash some more solos. Their all obviously professionals. All the while I'm thinking, "there's no way I'm following that!". As the night went on, the standard was getting better and better. Come 1:30am I bailed in anticipation of being found out of my depth.

So I didn't play. I'm sure it was the right call. So I won't be chasing lofty waterfalls, but sticking to the more familiar river and lakes that I'm used to.

So going back to Angel, 'Round Midnight on the evening of June 4th to play some blues where I've played before. Join me if you will.