texts

The arrival of a new musical aesthetic:
Extracts from a half-buried diary

Eddie Prévost, 2001



In 1965, Eddie Prévost co-founded the seminal improvising ensemble AMM. Prévost has also worked with numerous free jazz and improvi sing musi cians (e.g. Evan Parker, Marilyn Crispell and Paul Rutherford), with a number of younger musicians (e.g. Jim O’Rourke and Tom Chant and John Edwards, who complete Prévost’s Touch Trio), as well as with musicians from other cultures (most notably Yoshikazu Iwamoto). In addition, he has performed in the techno-ambient field (with GOD, Main and EAR). Prévost also plays the “open-ended” compositions of Cardew, Wolff and Cage. During 1998 he made music for The Merc e Cunningham Dance Company for its London season. His first solo CD, Loci of Change, was released by Matchless Recordings late in 1996. Prévost occasionally lectures and writes about music. His book No Sound Is Innocent was published by Copula in 1995. He currently convenes the weekly London Musicians’ Collective’s improvisation workshop..



           In comparing the situation during the late 1960s and early 1970s [1] to that in which creative musicians find themselves now, circa 2001, I am immediately struck by the extraordinary opportunities that now exist for creative people working in the world of sound—sonic installations, symposia of sound, festivals and tours of computer-aided noise machines. Alongside these are concerts of a more “regular” (sic) experimentalism and improvised musics, which are featured in a number of the more orthodox music festivals and venues —all (seemingly) professionally organized and  ufficiently funded. The current self-confidence of contemporary British visual art has to some extent spilled over into the sonic (of course, many artists refuse to make any distinction between the two). The present situation is also strongly affected by a growing internationalism. Many of the more well-known British creative musicians owe most of their activity and income to forays abroad. But whereas in the past those journeys were ground-breaking expeditions, the airport lounge has now become a common meeting place for the most successful. It seems possible, and I am sure this is how younger musicians perceive it, to make a career (and a financially sustaining one at that!) in a musical world that is neither of the popular market nor of the established classical tradition. And some musicians manage to inhabit all these worlds. This was manifestly not the case during the period under review.

           Of course, the kind of creativity I am referring to here once existed mainly outside the orbit of the so-called music conservatory, although there were free spirits who unchained themselves from its strictures and found common causes with creative people of more informal origins. The plain fact, however, was that during the mid-1960s through the early 1970s, there was little and grudged funding for the “new” arts from any government source (e.g. the Arts Council of Great Britain or the Regional Arts Associations). In any case, most musicians either were innocently unaware of the existence of potential funding for their work or chose not to consider these resources. Despite the emergence of the Arts Council of Great Britain after the Second World War, its focus—in spite and because of a paternalist Labour government and subsequent Conservative administrations—was on provision for the “high” arts: opera, classical music and ballet. Only later in the 1960s did theater begin to get more of the cake. True, there were more important things to spend resources on in the restructuring of a devastated postwar Britain. The Cold-War farrago was at its height too. So little consequence was given to more lowly initiatives in the arts. Indeed, according to the powers that were, many of these newer initiatives did not meet any artistic criteria making them worthy of consideration. But the general capitalist economy was booming, and the most immediate benefactors of Britain’s postwar welfare state, i.e. its children, were reaching maturity. Better health, better education and more money to spend meant that young people were confident enough to reject the mores and the general culture of their parents and insist upon something else.

           Jazz achieved something of a breakthrough in terms of funding and media perception during this time, although generally British jazz was considered inferior to the American examples. All the same, the bassist, composer and jazz orchestra leader Graham Collier was, I think, the first musician outside the classical tradition to be awarded some financial assistance by the Arts Council of Great Britain. I am sure it was his composerly stature that tipped the balance for him, however. Gradually, though, the jazz lobby began to develop a feel for arts politics. Soon, an organization dedicated to the creation of a center for jazz was formed—the Jazz Centre Society. This became the focus for seeking government sponsorship. Its aims were never realized (a whole chapter could be devoted to the machinations, unrealized hopes and ambitions, downright opportunism, misuse of resources and carelessness that led to its demise). Its inherited structures and bureaucracy now reside in the organization known as Jazz Services.

           Alongside all of this and alongside the emulative form of music that was British jazz were a number of initiatives that we can now see led to the works that settle broadly, if often uncomfortably, under the umbrella of free jazz, free improvisation and experimental “new music.”

           I am of course in danger of omitting some people of great importance. But if my memory serves me correctly, by the mid-1960s those making waves could broadly be placed into the following camps: (1) Cornelius Cardew, John Tilbury and David Bedford; (2) The London Musicians’ Cooperative; and (3) AMM.

           There were of course overlaps, and other individuals not central to these groupings participated in a lot of experimentation [2]. It should also be recalled that the British rock scene exploded at about this point. In many instances, there were also collaborations with musicians who would repudiate their experimentalism as they grew more economically successful. I will attempt a brief characterization of significant groupings (and risk the wrath of my contemporaries).

           Leaving aside Cornelius Cardew’s more formal musical background, we should recall that he acted as Karlheinz Stockhausen’s assistant for a while and on his return to London embarked upon a hugely energetic and influential program of “new music” composition and concert promotion. In particular, he and John Tilbury introduced English audiences to the music of John Cage, Morton Feldman, Earle Brown, Christian Wolff, Terry Riley, LaMonte Young and Toshi Ichiyanagi, as well as Cardew’s own aleatoric chamber works, which culminated —as his radicalism grew—in his massive graphic work 'Treatise' [3]. It was during the process of writing this piece that he would meet and then join the improvisational group AMM.

           Meanwhile, musicians from backgrounds entirely different from either the new youth-based pop music or the conservatory tradition were making their own moves towards independent musical expression. In brief, Derek Bailey graduated from British dance bands to become a improvising guitarist. Tony Oxley, Paul Rutherford, John Stevens and Trevor Watts all left various elements of Her Majesty the Queen’s musical service (i.e. as military bandsmen) to descend upon London and assist in the burgeoning free-jazz scene. Evan Parker decided not to let the world have the benefit of his undoubted insights into biology to concentrate his energies on the saxophone. Slightly later, a young Barry Guy combined his formal musical studies with the dubious extracurricular work of Stevens’s Spontaneous Music Ensemble (SME).

           Over the road, so to speak, a group composed mostly of current or ex-arts students were bringing mayhem to the Mike Westbrook Jazz Orchestra. Whether they left or were sacked is open to debate, but Keith Rowe and Lou Gare joined with a weedy drummer (myself) who had been referred to as “the Art Blakey of Brixton” to form AMM. (This sobriquet had been conferred at a time when Brixton was not yet the predominantly black community it is now—I hasten to add. And anyway I came from another London borough, Bermondsey. So much for the accuracy of press reporting then as now!).

           There were numerous other unique musics. I recall, for example, The People Band, with the thunderous playing and fearsome presence of tenorist George Khan, and of course Terry Day—another weedy drummer who has been a continuous presence on the scene ever since. He worked during the mid-1970s with Alterations (a British band also featuring David Toop, Steve Beresford and Peter Cusack). In recent years, however, Day’s activities have been cruelly curtailed by a debilitating illness. But The People Band occupied a kind of middle ground between the somewhat austere experimentalism of those referred to earlier, the British jazz scene, elements of folk musics and even cabaret. They offered a glorious satirical antidote to the other informal musics on offer. In my mind they acted as forebears for the softer, more ironic and accommodating experiments that I associate primarily with the later London Musicians’ Collective formed in 1974). But I am getting ahead of myself.


CORNELIUS CARDEW, JOHN TILBURY AND DAVID BEDFORD

           There was one well-known moment when Cornelius Cardew, John Tilbury and David Bedford performed in a concert during a 4-day festival called Experimental Music, presented at the Commonwealth Institute, London, during April 1966 and also including Keith Rowe, Robin Page, Lawrence Sheaff, Lou Gare, Ranulph Glanville, John White, John Surman, Peter Greenham, myself and “others” (that is what it said on the leaflet). The event was Cardew’s brainchild, and predictably he arranged for a number of works by George Brecht, Ichiyanagi, Cage and Young to be performed simultaneously. The other concerts in this series included the first complete performance of Cardew’s 'Treatise' —in which Cardew is remembered for remarking that Tilbury was disconcertingly always two pages behind everyone else. On another day there were piano works (most, I suspect, U.K. premiers) by Riley, Cage, Brown and Feldman, performed by Cardew and Tilbury. Another concert was by AMM.

           Thereafter, the three went slightly separate ways. Bedford received commissions for writing music and among other things also joined with Kevin Ayers’s Wholeworld, which also included Lol Coxhill. As a result of this association, Bedford and Coxhill went on to improvise together and to act in Lol’s surreal plays.   Tilbury became more involved with piano concerts and performances, in particular of Cage and Feldman, for British and European audiences. Later, though, Tilbury became a member of the Scratch Orchestra. Then, late in the 1970s, he joined AMM on a permanent basis.

           Cardew, during this mid-to-late-1960s period, became more involved with improvisation (e.g. with AMM) and teaching experimental music. His weekly “experimental music class” at Morely College—more a “happening” than an educational event—later, in 1969, transformed itself into the Scratch Orchestra, which he formed with Michael Parsons and Howard Skempton. Subsequently, most of the musicians and others who had gravitated to Cardew’s approach became members of the Scratch Orchestra.

           Thereafter, all kinds of concerts and “happening”-type events were arranged —some of the most notable being at the Ealing Town Hall, in the (London) National Gallery (although the Gallery was not aware of the nature of the event—or even of its existence). Another occurred on the concourse of King’s Cross Railway Station (one of London’s major railway termini). The key thing to remember is that these things were executed without funding and, more importantly, without anybody’s permission.

           The Scratch Orchestra also toured and played concerts in villages in Cornwall and in Anglesey, Wales. These were completely self-run. I only went on the Anglesey leg of this tour. We camped out and visited village halls that had been booked ahead, and presented Scratch Music concerts to bewildered but extremely hospitable villagers. On one notable occasion, after we had finished the villagers got up on the stage and sang to us. There were also a few forays abroad. One such concert in Austria elicited the infamous press review claiming that “Scratch Orchestra girls do not wear knickers.”

           Later, the Scratch Orchestra was divided by a political schism, in which a Maoist group more or less brought the whole thing to a halt. Tilbury’s account of these events and their ramifications will appear in his forthcoming biography of Cardew.

           Out of the Scratch Orchestra experience came a diverse range of musical initiatives and later developments: e.g. the works of Howard Skempton, Michael Parsons, Gavin Bryars, Christopher Hobbs, David Jackman (central figure in the loose collective Organum), Michael Nyman, the Peoples Liberation Music and Cardew’s own later political music.


THE LONDON MUSICIANS’ COOPERATIVE

           The original members of this self-help group of improvisers were Derek Bailey, Evan Parker, John Stevens, Trevor Watts, Paul Lytton, Tony Oxley, Howard Riley and Barry Guy. Later, after some internal reorganization, which saw Oxley and Stevens move away from the Cooperative, the remaining members invited Frank Perry, Lou Gare and myself to join.

           The two initiatives that probably did more than anything else to give a platform to these musicians and their aesthetic were the Little Theatre Club and the London Musicians’ Cooperative concerts at Ronnie Scott’s.

           The Little Theatre Club was situated at the top of a six-story building off Monmouth Street (in the middle of London’s theater district). It was an after- hours drinking club allegedly frequented by members of the acting fraternity (whom I never saw there). Exactly how John Stevens managed to persuade its managers to allow him to turn it into a Mecca for free music is for another more thorough history (and maybe a biography of John Stevens is about due). Knowing Stevens’s powers of persuasion, though, I am not really surprised. It was there that I first met Stevens, together, if I recall correctly, with Paul Rutherford and Trevor Watts. AMM was a concurrent initiative that occupied a different if adjacent territory—both musically and to some extent socially. But it is a measure of Stevens’s generosity that he invited AMM to perform at “his” Little Theatre Club. Thereafter, I played there as part of various combinations, never relishing the steep climb up those stairs with the drums, but always enchanted by this tiny, slightly seedy and low-lit venue that drew the more adventurous of musicians and listeners. Many of the so-called Second Generation of British improvisers, e.g. Beresford, Russell, Toop and Burwell, got their first taste of the music at this venue.     

           Slightly later, Tony Oxley’s prowess as a jazz drummer enabled him to persuade Ronnie Scott and Peter King to allow the emergent London Musicians’ Cooperative to promote a monthly Sunday concert—on the club’s then dark night. This probably stimulated the younger members of the musical press to sit up and take note. I am sure that it acted to give confidence to the musicians concerned and to the emergent audience for this music. Thereafter, the free music of Derek Bailey, Evan Parker, Paul Rutherford, Tony Oxley, Howard Riley, Barry Guy and Paul Lytton became the main menu for these events, although they occasionally extended invitations to others. For me, one of the more memorable AMM concerts, with Cardew, Rowe, Gare and myself, occurred at this venue at the invitation of the Coop, in particular of Evan Parker. Later the London Musicians’ Cooperative mounted small—but significantly international—festivals at Scott’s that also included the likes of Peter Brotzman and Alex Schlippenbach.

           Concurrent with these high-profile initiatives was an endless search for venues at which to present a burgeoning music. There were never enough places to satisfy the growing number of musicians developing this music. Another of Stevens’s sinecures was the Plough (a public house, i.e. a drinking place) in Stockwell. There, John presented his growingly eclectic tastes in free music, which embraced jazz rather more than did the more “experimental” programming of the London Musicians’ Cooperative. At this time, too, the first freemusic record label, Incus, was created by Oxley, Parker and Bailey.


AMM

           During the mid-1960s, some musicians already involved in the more modern forms of jazz began to push the boundaries further. Among them were members of the Mike Westbrook Orchestra, some of whom had traveled up to London together in the wake of the band’s move from its origins in the Devonian city of Plymouth. Among these were Mike Westbrook, John Surman, Phil Minton (then mostly a trumpeter) and guitarist Keith Rowe. These musicians began to mingle with others on the scene. Lou Gare occupied the tenor chair in the Mike Westbrook Orchestra and in my hard-bop quintet. It was not long before Gare connected Rowe and me; we then formed AMM. Thereafter, all pretenses of performing Americanstyle jazz fell away as the free-improvising ensemble that took on the name of AMM emerged. (We will leave perhaps for eternity an explanation of the specific meaning of the acronym “AMM.” Suffice it say that from the onset the idea was that the meaning of the group’s work should be attributed to its name rather than the specific manifesto that is implicit in any name. We did not want “words” to color any perception of AMM’s musical expression.)

           It should be no surprise that having left behind the jazz model and opted for a much more “experimental” approach to music making, AMM soon encountered Cardew, who was very concerned with aleatoric methods of composition and “experimentalism.” Cardew’s gravitation towards AMM occurred through his need to find more performers who could (and would!) help him realize performances of his mammoth (and at that time unfinished) graphic score 'Treatise' [4]. The introduction of Cardew into AMM led to a new kind of graphic characterization in 'Treatise' (which can be perceived in the latter pages) and eventually to Cardew eschewing composition for a while.

           Amidst the general climate of fashionable change that is represented by “the 1960s,” there came about a generous sense of convergence. Pop musicians, jazz musicians and artists all combined in ways that had not occurred before. In a (perhaps facile) sense culture was more democratic. The class structure in Britain seemed for a while to be terminally bending. The arts, media and entertainment worlds were the easy test beds for a popular radicalism. The class structure did not break. However, as in the case of AMM, the product of public (in the U.K. this means privileged, private, fee-paying) schooling, e.g. Cardew, could mix and work with “working-class” lads in common cultural endeavors and even embrace the new emerging rock culture. For example, several times AMM performed on the same bill as the Syd Barrett–period Pink Floyd at London’s UFO Club. AMM’s first recording, AMMMusic (1966), was produced by a small consortium (one of whom was involved with the early management of Pink Floyd) who sold the idea of the AMM recording to Elektra’s Jak Holtzman. On another notorious occasion, AMM appeared alongside (amongst others) Cream, Geno Washington and The Ram Jam Band at a rock extravaganza at London’s Roundhouse. It was notorious from AMM’s point of view because the promoter would not pay us. He claimed we had only been tuning up! Eventually, our then-manager, Victor Schonfield, persuaded them to cough up. But the signs were on the wall. Once there was money to be made, the new “love” culture began to wane. (Incidentally, Victor Schonfield’s promoting activities warrant rather more than a footnote to the new-music activities of this period, having brought Ornette Coleman, John Cage and Sun Ra to Britain [and possibly Europe] for the first time. He also wrote about and promoted concerts featuring many of the new voices on the scene.)

           But more important than these occasional media feasts, groups like the Music Improvisation Company, AMM and SME were getting on with the work of exploring and developing the music. Whilst SME was ensconced in the Little Theatre Club, AMM played weekly at various venues, including the Royal College of Art. Initially at the invitation of the student jazz club, AMM continued to arrive and play every week for over a year, there being a misunderstanding about the nature of our tenure. Without ever mentioning it, the college jazz club moved to some other night—a very English solution to a potentially embarrassing problem—leaving us free to play (unadvertised) to whomever turned up (and many people did!). During that time, we also had various visits from adventurous audiences and fellow travelers, including Steve Lacy and Ornette Coleman.

           Similar examples can, I am sure, be introduced by many of the new musicians of the time. My dip into the past is by necessity brief and partial [5]. I hope some music historian will take up the challenge of the immense diversity that co-existed and cross-fertilized during this period. Hitherto, the accounts of this period (that I am aware of) concentrate on the “big names.” However, one important general point I feel confident in making is that the energy in making the music and making a place for the music arose through an inner motivation of creativity that met a collective spirit of endeavor. I am not suggesting that it was some cozy collective Utopia. It just so happened that there was nothing much in it for anyone except the music itself. Of course, as time went on, the more canny and/or persistent amongst us made a few inroads into public funding. Some tours, some concerts did get some subsidy, albeit measly. But those things aside, it was clear that the music would be made because the musicians wanted to play. In my mind, although as I said at the opening of this contribution, there are more formal and well-funded sonic events now than there were then, the best of the music made today in Britain still arises from those self-same impulses to make music rather than make events that suit the arts funding criteria that are currently prevalent.

References and Notes
1. In the articles that accompany this overview, I am sure that readers will be both informed and highly entertained by the diversity and originality of concerts and musical initiatives that arose during this period of creativity in Britain. My own thoughts are restricted to a partial overview through lack of time. To make a more thorough trawl through my own archives and to consult the memories of my closest colleagues will have to wait for another occasion, for I start thinking about and writing this contribution with an editorial deadline only a few weeks away. I hope to make amends in this department at a later time. For now, I will focus upon what strikes me most about the period in question. I can only describe it as confident self-assurance, for the activities I describe here had little or no economic underpinning.
2. See the other articles in this issue of LMJ, as well as the texts in the CD Companion section, for information about some of the other individuals, groups and events of this period.
3. Cornelius Cardew, 'Treatise Handbook' (London: Peters Edition, 1971).
4. Cardew [3].
5. Evan Parker, in browsing through a draft of this somewhat racy read, reminded me to mention: MEV’s first U.K. visit; the first performance of Riley’s In C; a group called Gentle Fire; the infamous “Destruction in Art” symposium; the first alternative newspaper, 'International Times'; poet Bob Cobbing’s readings and concerts in the basement of Better Books in Charing Cross Road; Soft Machine; Jamie Muir; and Yoko Ono. The list has yet to be exhausted.


Discography: Currently Available Records
Cardew, Cornelius; Gare, Lou; Prévost, Eddie; Rowe, Keith; and Sheaff, Lawrence. 'AMMMUSIC' (1966). Re-released with additional  material from “classic” early AMM sessions: MegaCorp/Matchless ReR AMMCD (1989). Cardew, Cornelius; Gare, Lou; Prévost, Eddie; and Rowe, Keith. 'The Crypt 12th June (1968). New double CD edition with previously unreleased material: The Complete Session', Matchless Recordings MRDCD05 (1992). Gare, Lou, and Prévost, Eddie. 'To Hear and Back Again' (1973–1975). Re-released with additional material: Matchless Recordings MRCD03 (1994). Manuscript received 2 January 2001.