ARTIST : BJ COLE :
I had known Kenny for a while before he asked me to perform at the first secret concert at his apartment.
I suggested a performance with cellist Emily Burridge as our music seemed perfect for such an occasion.
The whole context of the event made me think of Chamber Music in its original setting - an intimate soiree where the host provides musical entertainment for friends and acquaintances.
Kenny had certainly sold us well - we were greeted with rapt attention and appreciation.
The chemistry between Emily, myself and the audience made us feel relaxed and natural, even though the listeners were sitting just feet from our instruments.
The feeling of 'us and them' was removed, we felt more at ease, knowing we'd get to know the guests
after the performance, make new friends and sign and sell our recordings. It made a refreshing change
from the impersonal atmosphere of most performance spaces.
I'd recommend this to other musicians as a truly rewarding experience. We can't wait for our next one.
B.J. Cole July 2007
GUEST : David McGeachie :
I was intrigued when Kenny said he was having a concert in his flat. It’s a big loft-style apartment but still, the idea of having professional musicians play there, for invited friends only, sounded great. It was good because you weren’t sure how this was going to work – was it a party? Would they do requests?
Then he said it was going to be BJ Cole plus top cellist Emily Burridge and the plot thickened.
I knew BJ’s name – he’s one of those musicians who is on the credits of many more CDs you own than you will realise. In the incredibly tight world of London recording studio session work, if you want a percussionist you call Jody Linscott, if you want a bass player and Pino’s in town he’s the top of your wish list, and if you need a pedal steel player there’s only one name in the frame; BJ Cole.
We’d all been to Kenny’s place before but this evening was different. It had the same elements as a party – drink, music, people, the furniture cleared away, people smoking on the balcony, a Saturday night, but this was different.
BJ and Emily were set up backing onto the main living room wall and a small rope light round them and in front of them subtly suggested a boundary of the area in which they were to perform, to give them space although in reality of course they were two feet away from the front onlookers. This gig was what you call ‘intimate’.
We all quietened down and took our seats or places at the makeshift bar or on the stairs or looking down from the kitchen, or through from the balcony, wondering what would happen but somehow knowing it would be brilliant – and it was.
Soon there was silence. Then the music started. No singing, no rhythm machines, no foot tapping, just the romantic sound of the steel guitar, evocative of we didn’t know what, but something good and kind, and the somehow more stern, deliberate and melancholic, but perfectly complimentary, washes of Emily’s cello.
The pieces just drifted into the room, floated around us mellifluously, in the air, then drifted quietly out again when they’d had enough of us. Then silence. Then emotionally-fuelled applause as Emily smiled warmly and BJ grinned up at us through his glasses in joy and surprise, as if he wasn’t quite sure himself where that beautiful music had just come from, even though he was responsible for half of it.
At certain times particular mournful counter-melodies made grown men feel like they sometimes do when they come out of a classic movie with their girlfriends; saying nothing, upper lip wavering, feigning cool but actually wanting to burst into tears and not sure why. I was one of them and I wasn’t alone.
This was a fantastic evening of music – a recital, no less - but in familiar surroundings with friends which made it warm and special.
Roll on the next one – part of the fun is wondering what or who it could be. Somehow I don’t think it’ll be some dodgy busker with an acoustic guitar, vaingloriously strangling ‘Wonderwall’ and ‘Mrs Robinson’.
I’m bound to have a gig that night anyway.
David McGeachie
GUEST : Haystack :
'A barmy summer evening' was promised on the invites to this 'secret concert' .. and it delivered in ways that we could never have believed.
I love the experience of seeing musicians perform in small venues, where you can see them close-up, realise that they're real and there right in front of you .. this was better !!
The atmosphere was friendly and full of anticipation for this private performance by two 'world class' musicians.
BJ Cole and Emily Burridge took their places .. I'm sure I heard a pin drop .. and began the first of their 2 sets.
They played some of their own compositions mixed in with superb takes on Eric Satie's Gnossiennes and more.
The audience were stunned ! .. the applause was genuine and somehow not enough to explain how much this was reaching into peoples souls.
When the performance finished, BJ and Emily (we're all on first name terms now!) mingled with the audience, signed CD's and shared with us how much they genuinely enjoyed performing for such an appreciative audience.
I will never forget that truly 'barmy' summer evening and I know that BJ and Emily won't either.
Haystack Jul'07
GUEST : Jackie Kane :
I thought I’d be ‘fashionably’ late. As I got to the door, I guess I’d expected it'd be rather loud and there'd be bods to-ing and fro-ing in the doorway. Silence. Ooops. I knocked quietly and was allowed in. Everyone was hushed, still, intent. I could see nothing at first over the crowd of friends, but ethereal notes from the steel guitar began to twine up to the ceiling and around the apartment and the guests seemed almost... hypnotised. I wasn’t prepared for this. Already I had a lump in my throat.
A glass of wine, and for half an hour or so, I did not budge. I was hooked by the meandering notes and up-lifting beauty of this weirdly captivating instrument. I thought we’d be treated to Hawaii-Five-O or the likes. Instead, elegant, swooshing, abstract twangs – almost filmic and narrative, telling a story – wafted around and swept away any stress I may have dragged in the door with me. I was in a bubble. It was bliss.
Watching the legendary BJ Cole play was fascinating. A craftsman. An artist. He clearly loved and lived the music. He was joined by ’cellist, Emily Burridge. After a single stroke; the deepest, darkest lament from the soul of the ’cello, I knew I’d be in trouble. As both instruments resonated in perfect complement, I admit, a tear rolled down my face.
As I looked around to make sure I wasn’t the only one welling up – I wasn’t – the communal experience was tangible. Each one of us was being transported beyond the room to the private world of our imaginations, fed by the pictures that BJ and Emily were conjuring up with sounds and music. I’m sure I saw dense woods reach up to clear blue skies and even Indians on horseback... And I’d only had the one glass of white!
No-one wanted the evening to end. We urged them to play a few more pieces. When it did end, not one person was able to speak immediately. There was somehow a need to gather thoughts and digest. Maybe even to wake up from our lovely dream?
This evening was not what I’d expected. This was a special experience. It was unique and wonderful and unforgettable. I’m not even sure I’ve managed to describe things adequately... To be in good company, listening to world-class musicians in the intimacy of a friend’s apartment overlooking London on a warm summer’s evening... I felt privileged.
Jackie Kane
