Daniel Thompson
The Second Anecdote
John Russell - Through My Ears and My Eyes
Part One - First Meeting
It was October 2007, a dark autumnal evening in central London. I was walking to The Conway Hall to hear the quartet Evan Parker, John Russell, Phillip Wachsmann and Ken Vandermark. I was excited, as I always was when I went to gigs, to immerse myself in the moment and to try and learn as much as possible about ‘this’ music, the musicians and everything about the experience. At this period in my life I thought about almost nothing else other than music, and with very few responsibilities I could immerse myself completely, every single day. I was practicing a lot, everyday for hours on end. I was also going to as many gigs and listening to as much music as possible at home. Always learning. I felt like a student without a tutor or belonging to a course. I still do. Aren’t we all autodidacts? I was a guitarist with an attitude of determined reluctant keenness (I’m sure many an artist out there working would sympathise with this attitude?!). I simply, and maybe or maybe not naively thought, if I just keep practicing eventually I’ll be playing on the same stage as these musicians I’ve been admiring for so long.
I had already familiarised myself with the music of Evan and Ken but John and Phillips’ music was new to me. Being a guitarist I was naturally drawn to Johns playing. How was he making the guitar sound like that? The intervals and chords were outrageous. It was different to the playing of Derek Bailey, who I’d listened to on records. Definitely connected to Dereks music, but different. I learned a little of what John was doing by watching and listening to that gig at Conway Hall. Those huge interval leaps and long finger stretches left me bewildered in an excited frenzy. The images etched in my memory. I knew what he was doing was fundamentally possible on my instrument and it’s set up, that being an acoustic archtop, six strings, standard tuning, plectrum and fingers. I wanted to understand more.
I could never get more than I got from the gigs I went to listen to, I always wanted more, to hear more and to learn more. At the Conway Hall gig I distinctly remember watching John from afar meticulously tuning his d string (or was it his g string?) before the gig had started. It was one of the things I loved so much about going to gigs on my own in my early days of exploring the scene, arriving early and watching the behaviour of musicians before they played. How they spend their time, mostly so generously amongst the audience, hardly ever alone in the green room (if the venue has a green room), almost always welcoming questions. One of my favourite memories is sitting in the Vortex Jazz Club in east London, haven gotten there early and able to watch John Edwards tune up before a gig with Evan Parker and Tony Marsh. John was tuning up with what seemed to me to be the same level of intensity and focus as he held when he was performing. Inspiring!
I first met John Russell outside the entrance to the Conway Hall where we shared words and smoked a cigarette after the aforementioned gig. John seemed an imposing and intense character but had a resonating warmth that made me feel happy and comfortable. He told me about Mopomoso and said he taught the guitar if I was interested. I was interested, but I definitely didn’t feel ready for such a daunting endeavour. I’d been stubbornly practicing on my own for years working through a plethora of books, videos, transcribing and thinking. Did I want a teacher? Did I want the influence? It took me about a year to convince myself to ask John to take him up on his offer. I realised I’d be missing a monumental opportunity if I didn’t. I was right!
I met John again at The Vortex and plucked up the courage to ask him if the offer of lessons was still open. “Sure” he said, “what do you want to learn?”. Wow! I didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m not really sure” I replied. I wanted a teacher to guide me, I think, not encourage (although thats always nice) but to help me be a better musician. It felt like a seismic change was occurring in my life as a musician. This could/would be one of those decisions you remember in the future. If I hadn’t gone to The Vortex that night and asked John for lessons I think I would have regretted it my whole life. Things would’ve been very different.
In any case, we arranged a date and time for my first lesson. “Come round and let’s see what happens” John said to me.
The first lesson was booked!
Part Two - The First Lesson
At this time in my life I was residing in Hackney, closer to the west of the borough (a short walk to The Vortex in actual fact. A place I visited a lot). John was living in Walthamstow, an area of London I was yet to explore. I wasn’t in the habit of using the tube at that time so I was jumping on and off buses a lot. As a result I needed to travel on two different buses to get to John’s house which took me about two hours. Lots of thinking time on the way, and lots on the way back too. The latter was vital for my processing.
I was very nervous. In the intervening time between meeting John and my first lesson I had explored a lot of his music and learned a lot about the figure he was in this music, a music and a scene I wanted to be part of. John was a huge and important person in the music. This made me both excited and happy I was studying with him and naturally anxious being in the presence of someone as revered as he was.
I walked up to Johns house and knocked on the door. I remember it being a sunny late morning on a Saturday. His smile was the first thing I noticed. We went into his front room and I put my guitar down. It was an Epiphone Emperor Regent. A model from around the 1990’s. Ply top with a veneered finish to make it look like an older model but not really sounding as good as those earlier models made from solid woods. It was a nice guitar though and I ended up playing it a lot, in the UK, Europe and I even recorded my first releases using it. I subsequently changed my guitar, but that’s another story.
We went to the small galley kitchen of Johns flat, drank a cup of tea or two, smoked a cigarette and had a chat. I was feeling slightly more at ease. Slightly.
We then convened in the front room to begin my first lesson.
“Right then” John said. “I think the best thing for us to do, is for me to hear you play. How about you just play for five minutes or so? It will give me an idea of how you approach the instrument”
“Ok” I replied. Can you imagine?
Now the nerves really took over.
I played. About four feet away and in front of somebody I had learned and understood to be a giant in this music, this music being the one I had decided I wanted to give as much of my life to as I could. And this guitarist being John Russell!
I eventually stopped playing. For the sake of both of us I’m sure this was a welcome moment. John then proceeded to ask me a few questions about the instrument, about musical theory and about this and about that. I knew the answers to some of these questions, others I didn’t.
Not every lesson went down like my first. In fact I only ever ‘played’ again once in Johns flat and that was a short duo with John mid-way through my years of tutelage. After our first encounter I spent many more hours with John, both at his house and at gigs. Every lesson made me feel slightly nervous. He was a warm and incredibly good hearted individual and was also an exceptionally gifted musician, the latter element made me feel lost most of the time, in complete awe. Some lessons I would be absolutely bombarded with information, far too much to process during the visit and barely enough time to process before our next meeting. But he was never too worried about all of that. He used to enjoy giving me the knowledge and allowing me to take it away and work through it on my own. I don’t think John ever actually told me what to do. He simply suggested things. From that perspective he gave me exactly what I wanted, even though I hadn’t told him what it was. He gave me guidance. And through that guidance he gave me a confidence I wouldn’t have found otherwise. I think he was the perfect teacher. Certainly he was for me. I learned so much from John during our meetings. Much more than just fretboard work. I learned about what it really meant to be a professional musician. Away from the bandstand musicians do all sorts of things to stay afloat. From John I learned a few things to stop me drowning. ‘The Glue Chords’ are just one example!
Meeting John, hearing his music and spending the time I did with him completely changed my life. Because of that I will be forever grateful.
To John.
For John.
Through my ears and my eyes.
Daniel Thompson - March 2025
John Russell - Through My Ears and My Eyes
Part One - First Meeting
It was October 2007, a dark autumnal evening in central London. I was walking to The Conway Hall to hear the quartet Evan Parker, John Russell, Phillip Wachsmann and Ken Vandermark. I was excited, as I always was when I went to gigs, to immerse myself in the moment and to try and learn as much as possible about ‘this’ music, the musicians and everything about the experience. At this period in my life I thought about almost nothing else other than music, and with very few responsibilities I could immerse myself completely, every single day. I was practicing a lot, everyday for hours on end. I was also going to as many gigs and listening to as much music as possible at home. Always learning. I felt like a student without a tutor or belonging to a course. I still do. Aren’t we all autodidacts? I was a guitarist with an attitude of determined reluctant keenness (I’m sure many an artist out there working would sympathise with this attitude?!). I simply, and maybe or maybe not naively thought, if I just keep practicing eventually I’ll be playing on the same stage as these musicians I’ve been admiring for so long.
I had already familiarised myself with the music of Evan and Ken but John and Phillips’ music was new to me. Being a guitarist I was naturally drawn to Johns playing. How was he making the guitar sound like that? The intervals and chords were outrageous. It was different to the playing of Derek Bailey, who I’d listened to on records. Definitely connected to Dereks music, but different. I learned a little of what John was doing by watching and listening to that gig at Conway Hall. Those huge interval leaps and long finger stretches left me bewildered in an excited frenzy. The images etched in my memory. I knew what he was doing was fundamentally possible on my instrument and it’s set up, that being an acoustic archtop, six strings, standard tuning, plectrum and fingers. I wanted to understand more.
I could never get more than I got from the gigs I went to listen to, I always wanted more, to hear more and to learn more. At the Conway Hall gig I distinctly remember watching John from afar meticulously tuning his d string (or was it his g string?) before the gig had started. It was one of the things I loved so much about going to gigs on my own in my early days of exploring the scene, arriving early and watching the behaviour of musicians before they played. How they spend their time, mostly so generously amongst the audience, hardly ever alone in the green room (if the venue has a green room), almost always welcoming questions. One of my favourite memories is sitting in the Vortex Jazz Club in east London, haven gotten there early and able to watch John Edwards tune up before a gig with Evan Parker and Tony Marsh. John was tuning up with what seemed to me to be the same level of intensity and focus as he held when he was performing. Inspiring!
I first met John Russell outside the entrance to the Conway Hall where we shared words and smoked a cigarette after the aforementioned gig. John seemed an imposing and intense character but had a resonating warmth that made me feel happy and comfortable. He told me about Mopomoso and said he taught the guitar if I was interested. I was interested, but I definitely didn’t feel ready for such a daunting endeavour. I’d been stubbornly practicing on my own for years working through a plethora of books, videos, transcribing and thinking. Did I want a teacher? Did I want the influence? It took me about a year to convince myself to ask John to take him up on his offer. I realised I’d be missing a monumental opportunity if I didn’t. I was right!
I met John again at The Vortex and plucked up the courage to ask him if the offer of lessons was still open. “Sure” he said, “what do you want to learn?”. Wow! I didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m not really sure” I replied. I wanted a teacher to guide me, I think, not encourage (although thats always nice) but to help me be a better musician. It felt like a seismic change was occurring in my life as a musician. This could/would be one of those decisions you remember in the future. If I hadn’t gone to The Vortex that night and asked John for lessons I think I would have regretted it my whole life. Things would’ve been very different.
In any case, we arranged a date and time for my first lesson. “Come round and let’s see what happens” John said to me.
The first lesson was booked!
Part Two - The First Lesson
At this time in my life I was residing in Hackney, closer to the west of the borough (a short walk to The Vortex in actual fact. A place I visited a lot). John was living in Walthamstow, an area of London I was yet to explore. I wasn’t in the habit of using the tube at that time so I was jumping on and off buses a lot. As a result I needed to travel on two different buses to get to John’s house which took me about two hours. Lots of thinking time on the way, and lots on the way back too. The latter was vital for my processing.
I was very nervous. In the intervening time between meeting John and my first lesson I had explored a lot of his music and learned a lot about the figure he was in this music, a music and a scene I wanted to be part of. John was a huge and important person in the music. This made me both excited and happy I was studying with him and naturally anxious being in the presence of someone as revered as he was.
I walked up to Johns house and knocked on the door. I remember it being a sunny late morning on a Saturday. His smile was the first thing I noticed. We went into his front room and I put my guitar down. It was an Epiphone Emperor Regent. A model from around the 1990’s. Ply top with a veneered finish to make it look like an older model but not really sounding as good as those earlier models made from solid woods. It was a nice guitar though and I ended up playing it a lot, in the UK, Europe and I even recorded my first releases using it. I subsequently changed my guitar, but that’s another story.
We went to the small galley kitchen of Johns flat, drank a cup of tea or two, smoked a cigarette and had a chat. I was feeling slightly more at ease. Slightly.
We then convened in the front room to begin my first lesson.
“Right then” John said. “I think the best thing for us to do, is for me to hear you play. How about you just play for five minutes or so? It will give me an idea of how you approach the instrument”
“Ok” I replied. Can you imagine?
Now the nerves really took over.
I played. About four feet away and in front of somebody I had learned and understood to be a giant in this music, this music being the one I had decided I wanted to give as much of my life to as I could. And this guitarist being John Russell!
I eventually stopped playing. For the sake of both of us I’m sure this was a welcome moment. John then proceeded to ask me a few questions about the instrument, about musical theory and about this and about that. I knew the answers to some of these questions, others I didn’t.
Not every lesson went down like my first. In fact I only ever ‘played’ again once in Johns flat and that was a short duo with John mid-way through my years of tutelage. After our first encounter I spent many more hours with John, both at his house and at gigs. Every lesson made me feel slightly nervous. He was a warm and incredibly good hearted individual and was also an exceptionally gifted musician, the latter element made me feel lost most of the time, in complete awe. Some lessons I would be absolutely bombarded with information, far too much to process during the visit and barely enough time to process before our next meeting. But he was never too worried about all of that. He used to enjoy giving me the knowledge and allowing me to take it away and work through it on my own. I don’t think John ever actually told me what to do. He simply suggested things. From that perspective he gave me exactly what I wanted, even though I hadn’t told him what it was. He gave me guidance. And through that guidance he gave me a confidence I wouldn’t have found otherwise. I think he was the perfect teacher. Certainly he was for me. I learned so much from John during our meetings. Much more than just fretboard work. I learned about what it really meant to be a professional musician. Away from the bandstand musicians do all sorts of things to stay afloat. From John I learned a few things to stop me drowning. ‘The Glue Chords’ are just one example!
Meeting John, hearing his music and spending the time I did with him completely changed my life. Because of that I will be forever grateful.
To John.
For John.
Through my ears and my eyes.
Daniel Thompson - March 2025
The First Anecdote
A Tail of Two Foxes (Fox)
In 2007 I went to a concert at The Vortex in Dalston, East London. Foxes Fox were playing. This, which I knew, was a group comprising Steve Beresford, John Edwards, Louis Moholo-Moholo and Evan Parker. I was 26 years old. It was a period of unequivocal change in my life. The Vortex at that time was a stunning place to hear free improvisation, quite often with monthly programmes of varying artists playing to packed audiences. When Foxes Fox played in 2007 this was no exception. I was standing at the bar throughout the entire evening as the club was filled to the rafters. I didn’t have a ticket so I felt lucky to even be let in.
During that period gigs at The Vortex would be billed to start at 8pm, often starting at 9pm. At around 8.45pm the tension was becoming unbearable. Then the music filled the space.
The first set was astonishing.
Thirty eight minutes later.
Interval.
Breathe.
Can they go further?
The second set did exactly that. Kenny Wheeler happened to be at the gig and his trumpet and flugelhorn were in his person. He was asked to sit in. I couldn’t believe it!
The quintet took the music further, further towards the unimaginable.
It was the first and only time I heard Kenny Wheeler play live.
After I’d been completely mesmerised by the evenings music, and had time to reflect, I would often remark that it was one of, if not the best gig I’d ever heard. I would say how it felt like the roof came off the club. The musicians raised the bandstand and raised the roof! Those feelings remained the same, and still do to this day.
A year or two had passed and I bumped into Martin Davidson at The Vortex. I remembered there being at least one microphone near the stage so I thought the music might have been ‘captured’. I asked if he had any idea if the music had plans for a release. At that time Martin didn’t know anything about such a thing. I think my initial desire to want to know if it had been recorded was so I could know that such an incredible evening of music could be heard by even more people. To be shared.
More years passed and I discovered that the music had in fact been released on Evan Parker’s wonderful label Psi. But, was the music as incredible as I remembered? After years of thinking this through and deciding whether to buy the record, in 2024 I finally did, I picked up a copy and began to get ready to not be ready, again.
Did I now have my memory in my hands?
It took me a long time to actually sit down and listen to the record. On the evening of the 25th January 2025, I did exactly that. The music enveloped me once again.
Few things in this world are truly great. The music played on that evening and the music I heard both live and on the record is that, it’s great. I often feel lucky in this world. I feel lucky to have heard this music when I went to The Vortex in 2007, and lucky to have been able to hear it again.
Thanks to all the musicians and everyone involved in the concert and the recording.
Daniel Thompson - January 2025
A Tail of Two Foxes (Fox)
In 2007 I went to a concert at The Vortex in Dalston, East London. Foxes Fox were playing. This, which I knew, was a group comprising Steve Beresford, John Edwards, Louis Moholo-Moholo and Evan Parker. I was 26 years old. It was a period of unequivocal change in my life. The Vortex at that time was a stunning place to hear free improvisation, quite often with monthly programmes of varying artists playing to packed audiences. When Foxes Fox played in 2007 this was no exception. I was standing at the bar throughout the entire evening as the club was filled to the rafters. I didn’t have a ticket so I felt lucky to even be let in.
During that period gigs at The Vortex would be billed to start at 8pm, often starting at 9pm. At around 8.45pm the tension was becoming unbearable. Then the music filled the space.
The first set was astonishing.
Thirty eight minutes later.
Interval.
Breathe.
Can they go further?
The second set did exactly that. Kenny Wheeler happened to be at the gig and his trumpet and flugelhorn were in his person. He was asked to sit in. I couldn’t believe it!
The quintet took the music further, further towards the unimaginable.
It was the first and only time I heard Kenny Wheeler play live.
After I’d been completely mesmerised by the evenings music, and had time to reflect, I would often remark that it was one of, if not the best gig I’d ever heard. I would say how it felt like the roof came off the club. The musicians raised the bandstand and raised the roof! Those feelings remained the same, and still do to this day.
A year or two had passed and I bumped into Martin Davidson at The Vortex. I remembered there being at least one microphone near the stage so I thought the music might have been ‘captured’. I asked if he had any idea if the music had plans for a release. At that time Martin didn’t know anything about such a thing. I think my initial desire to want to know if it had been recorded was so I could know that such an incredible evening of music could be heard by even more people. To be shared.
More years passed and I discovered that the music had in fact been released on Evan Parker’s wonderful label Psi. But, was the music as incredible as I remembered? After years of thinking this through and deciding whether to buy the record, in 2024 I finally did, I picked up a copy and began to get ready to not be ready, again.
Did I now have my memory in my hands?
It took me a long time to actually sit down and listen to the record. On the evening of the 25th January 2025, I did exactly that. The music enveloped me once again.
Few things in this world are truly great. The music played on that evening and the music I heard both live and on the record is that, it’s great. I often feel lucky in this world. I feel lucky to have heard this music when I went to The Vortex in 2007, and lucky to have been able to hear it again.
Thanks to all the musicians and everyone involved in the concert and the recording.
Daniel Thompson - January 2025
