A strange sad feeling: part of my life gone for ever ...
This will mean nothing to you unless you love jazz, but Johnny Dankworth has died.
He was Sir John Dankworth, actually - one of the few who deserved that honour amongst the plethora of thieving bankers, big business graspers and political drones who diminish the value of the title.
He was one of the two or three greatest British jazz musicians in my lifetime; and his wife, Cleo Laine, an astonishing contralto, is perhaps the greatest British jazz singer ever.
I can even remember the room I was in when I heard her first-ever radio broadcast after she joined his orchestra. I was still at school, aged 16; and if my memory hasn't failed me, so was she - 16, I mean, but not at school.
He was one of the two or three greatest British jazz musicians in my lifetime; and his wife, Cleo Laine, an astonishing contralto, is perhaps the greatest British jazz singer ever.
I can even remember the room I was in when I heard her first-ever radio broadcast after she joined his orchestra. I was still at school, aged 16; and if my memory hasn't failed me, so was she - 16, I mean, but not at school.
He was a wonderful musician. Tonight I feel somehow a little of my life is lost. Catch him on http://www.jazzonthetube.com/videos/sir-john-dankworth/sir-john-dankworth.html. You'll see her too.
That's rather selfish, isn't it - I say a part of my life gone? We always mourn for ourselves, don't we?
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