INTRO SESSION SHENANIGANS
The studio guitarist's guide to happiness and personal fulfilment, as related by our resident session ace. This month: Dance Band Days, Part 2.
Iwas sitting at home, torn between checking my overdraft or contacting the phone company to see if I'm still connected, when the contraption in the hall finally sprang into life. 'Twas an offer of employment that very evening at Park Lane’s Dorchester Hotel. I was to deputise for the guitarist in the Terrace Restaurant house band. Presumably, he’d been taken suddenly indisposed with a better offer. I dropped everything and whizzed off to the joy of a single yellow line parking space outside. George D’Souza greeted me on stage, a dapper, softly spoken gentleman who’d given up the saxophone for health reasons and now played bass guitar, some occasional flute and sang quite beautifully in the style of Nat King Cole. But for less money. He introduced me to the evening’s co-conspirators -Hugh Ledigo (piano), Gary Jones (drums), Cedric ‘Pedro’ Manuel (sax) and Tony Uter (percussion). It became apparent within minutes of our 8pm-1am engagement that I was punching way above my weight. “Okay, let’s start. You Stepped Out Of A Dream. In C.” “Er, George is there a part? I don’t know it.” Cue laughter and the unforgettable rejoinder, “Well, you will in five minutes’ time…”
And so I discovered that the second chord of said standard moves to Db before weaving its way through the keys of Ab and F. The very real fear of an early bath loomed large at the conclusion of our opener. George’s expression remained sphinx-like as he announced “Missed The Saturday Dance. C Major!”
“Oh my word”, or phrases of a similar despairing nature. I didn’t know this ditty either. But, wait. “George, do you perchance mean Don’t Get Around Much Any More?”, which contains the opening lyric which you have just recited? I happen to know that tune. I gave it my best shot.
George’s face seemed to evoke a combination of relief, surprise and reassurance that an evening of embarrassment might yet be averted. He then directed my attention to a huge collection of files containing the band’s arrangements. “How’s your sight reading? Well, I guess we’re about to find out…” And with that he launched into Let There Be Love, the Nat Cole/George Shearing chart, complete with unison piano/guitar/vibraphone lines. And rather lovely it was too.
At its conclusion I interpreted the look of a man reprieved as he walked across the stage and whispered “You know he’s leaving, don’t you? Do you want the job? Six nights per week and some (if not all) of the guinea fowl you can eat, if you make friends with our chef, An
