The House That Jazz Built
Radio 4
Classic Serial: The Complete Smiley – The Karla Trilogy – Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
Ronnie Scott’s jazz club in Soho is 50 years old and, in The House That Jazz Built, Paul Merton, in a jaunty and sometimes intrusive have I got blues for you commentary, told the story of how British jazz enthusiasts were seduced and excited by post-war American music from the likes of Charlie “Bird” Parker, Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie.
These new trombone, clarinet and saxophone noises were heralded as a new dawn, the beginning of a music revolution, always creative, sometimes aggressive, occasionally unapologetic but, perhaps more importantly, as an opportunity for the younger generation to break free from the gloom of an austere Britain and grab hold of what they believed was a ticket to ride into a brighter future.
Ronnie Scott, himself a saxophonist, was as exhilarated as anyone about this new take on old music, originally born in New Orleans, but fast becoming a global phenomenon. He thought about opening a club in the early 1950s and finally got it off the ground in a partnership with Pete King in 1959, first in Gerrard Street premises and then, from 1965, in Frith Street – both Soho locations and therefore ideal to help create an image of a hazy, sleazy, smoky, rebellious and ultimately cool London jazz scene.
Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club was described as a recital hall, a concert venue, a place of learning, a vital contributor to jazz creativity and as a little nest of happiness. It was – and continues to be – all those things, iconic even to those people who do not understand the notion of improvised music within a structure and all that, er, jazz.
This would have been a better radio documentary if we had heard less of Paul Merton’s unnecessary interventions as he toured the club and more archive recordings of those directly involved in the story, such Benny Green or, indeed, Ronnie Scott himself.
The House That Jazz Built was another example of a celebrity presenter diluting the subject matter, spoiling the essence of a potentially great story and weakening the tribute accordingly. But it was good in parts – rather like jazz itself. The human Ronnie Scott died in 1996 but, of course, his spirit, legend and club live on.
It is unfair, perhaps, to comment on a serial before it has concluded, but The Complete Smiley – The Karla Trilogy – Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy is a familiar enough body of work from John Le Carré to warrant early observation. It was heralded as a major production project from the BBC, which is what is, but it turned out to be as tedious as its rather reverential title.
It will probably irritate all the cast and crew if anyone mentions Alec Guinness – oops – but he set the benchmark for the George Smiley role on television in 1979 and will not be dislodged from the memory easily. Even back then, the immaculate and widely acclaimed adaptation was desperately slow and required major reserves of sofa-stamina from viewers to persevere as a tortoise pulled the plot along. The advantage of television, of course, is that it gives visual support to the words spoken, helping the audience to decipher who’s who and what’s what. This radio treatment, despite being blessed with a superb cast headed by Simon Russell Beale as Smiley, comes across as too confusing because of the number of characters, voices and plot threads. It needs a spreadsheet, a ready reckoner and, for the senior generation, a slide rule to keep up with the story. While loyal fans will love it, many listeners might see little alternative but to give up and defect.
Joe Cushnan
