Music
How jazz became the soundtrack of a modern, multicultural London
A new wave of young musicians are reinventing the sound with technical chops and 2019 influences. But why has jazz returned to the capital – and why now?
Nubya Garcia and Joe Armon-Jones are in the zone in front of hundreds of euphoric, dancing Londoners. Garcia joins the dancing as she whoops along to Armon-Jones’ extended, improvisational piano solo – a mix of technical brilliance and style. The crowd bellow, clap and jump as she dives back into the tune with fire, powering out bars on the tenor saxophone with her signature energy and dexterity.
This gig is just one of hundreds performed in London this year by a group of musicians who are spearheading a new movement in UK jazz. For their part, all involved balk at talk of a rebirth. “Jazz never went away,” some of them say, “it’s just that you’re only being told about it now.” But jazz has taken over the capital’s live music scene in a big way. A few years ago, if you were walking down a dark back street, phone in hand, looking for the secret entrance to a railway arch or warehouse, the sounds leaking out would have been techno or house; nowadays you’re much more likely to be listening out for brass instruments, drums and a walking bassline.
Nubya Garcia
© Neil Massey
Joe-Armon Jones
© Neil Massey
Zara McFarlane jams with Kwake Bass and Wu-Lu at Hither Green Studios
© Neil Massey
Trumpeter and singer Sheila Maurice-Grey
© Neil Massey
This network of young jazz artists have another common link other than the style of music they play: Tomorrow’s Warriors, the non-profit organisation that has been instrumental in their success. Co-founded in 1991 by Gary Crosby – a member of ’80s collective Jazz Warriors –and then artist manager Janine Irons, Tomorrow’s Warriors provide young people from any economic background with a high level of musical training, free of charge, with a focus on BAME and female musicians. “There are many other institutions where young people can prepare to study music for higher education, like the Royal Academy of Music or the Junior Guildhall,” says award-winning musician and ex-Warrior Theon Cross, “but Tomorrow’s Warriors offer the training for free or virtually nothing. A lot of us owe thanks to Gary Crosby.”
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Birth of a new style
Crosby sits in a small, cluttered office in Harrow with Irons, managing director of Tomorrow’s Warriors. Contracts for gigs, music scores and lists of workshops are spread across the desk between them, indicating the huge number of lessons and opportunities that Tomorrow’s Warriors provide for young people on a regular basis. The two co-founders are recalling the birth of the organisation 28 years ago. “The idea came to me really when I was visiting family in Jamaica,” says Crosby. “I had an epiphany after I was asked by a family member what I was doing in England. He didn’t seem to value what I said, and it made me realise that I wasn’t fully using my talents. There was a side of me that wanted to give something back.”
On returning to London, Crosby started a jam session at The Jazz Cafe in Camden Town for young people who loved jazz but lacked opportunities. “I was at the point of leaving the Jazz Warriors, and I had the ear of the person who owned [The Jazz Cafe],” he says. “There were a lot of young kids who were living on council estates like I was and wanted to play jazz but couldn’t find the secret door. So I told [the Jazz Warriors] that I was going to set up a company that was focused on younger players who couldn’t get into the scene.”
Gary Crosby, founder of Tomorrow's Warriors
© Neil Massey
We shouldn’t avoid one of the main reasons why we did this: we wanted to diversify music in this country
The jam session grew, then moved to bigger venues and became masterclasses with older musicians such as Binker Golding, James McKay and Peter Edwards tutoring newcomers. By the time many of the biggest names in contemporary jazz walked through its doors as nervous teenagers, it had become a fully rounded educational organisation. On a sweltering Saturday in June 2019, four of those former nervous teens stride onto the West Holts stage at Glastonbury Festival to be greeted by a massive, sprawling crowd of revellers basking in the sunshine.
Armon-Jones, brothers Femi and TJ Koleoso and James Mollison (trumpeter Dylan Jones is absent) make up Ezra Collective, a band who are, in their own words, “pioneering the new wave of UK jazz music”. As the foursome launch into You Can’t Steal My Joy – a track that mixes jazz, hip-hop, grime, afrobeat and reggae – members of the crowd throw their arms and flags into the air, bouncing from side to side with the same energy that can be seen at any of the festival’s pop-orientated stages. Ezra Collective are becoming used to this level of frenzy at their shows. And not only have they built a reputation as one of the best party-starting acts on the live music circuit, each member has other projects, too: Femi Koleoso has just toured with Jorja Smith; Jones has another band, Pyjaen; and Armon-Jones’ second solo album drops this month.
8 min
Watch Joe Armon-Jones perform Try Walk With Me, featuring Asheber
The rising London jazz luminary performs the lead track from his new album Turn To Clear View.
What many in the crowd won’t know is that this group didn’t start out as a gang of mates playing in their bedrooms, or meet after years performing on the live scene; they began in an organised youth band at Tomorrow’s Warriors, receiving free tuition as students. “Gary has almost single-handedly changed jazz in London, just by giving us a free platform,” says Armon-Jones. “With a lot of schools and programmes, the people who do the best are the ones whose parents can afford to give them extra lessons outside of the classroom. The fact that what Tomorrow’s Warriors offer is open and free for everybody deletes the classism. If everyone is able to join, the people who do well are those with the best mindset and the best attitude.”
It’s a similar story across the board in the current UK jazz scene. MOBO Award-winning singer Zara McFarlane was at an open jam when Irons encouraged her to join the Warriors. Drummer Moses Boyd (who has just co-produced a track on Beyoncé’s Lion King soundtrack album) was a member, too. Then there’s Nubya Garcia, Rosie Turton, Shabaka Hutchings, Theon Cross, Sheila Maurice-Grey, Cassie Kinoshi, Shirley Tetteh... the list goes on and on. If you’ve fallen in love with a UK jazz musician in 2019, you can bet they started out as a Warrior.
Diversity plays a central role in the story of this cultural shift. “We shouldn’t avoid one of the main reasons why we did this: we wanted to diversify music in this country,” says Crosby. “I remember one night – I must have been only 16 – at one of the real famous jazz clubs. The wife of the guy who owned the place didn’t know me and said, ‘Do you really want to come in here? Maybe you should go upstairs.’ Because that was where the funky music was. I could play jazz, I could read music like them, but I had to work my own way through.”
Moments like this, along with a palpable lack of people of colour on stage at prestigious clubs and gigs, inspired Crosby and Irons to take action. “It was really obvious: if you’ve got a group of people who are marginalised and don’t have any access to opportunity, they’ll be invisible,” says Irons. “We decided we were going to make a change, to ensure that all talent had a fair crack at success. We came up with a big masterplan of how we were going to change the world so they could succeed.”
Marian Wright Edelman, an American civil rights activist, famously said, “You cannot be what you cannot see,” meaning that people rely on what they can see in their cultural stories, in their leaders and role models, in order to recognise their own potential. This sentiment encapsulates the plan that Irons and Crosby put into action over the following three decades. “If you want to change who’s coming to see the gigs and picking up instruments, then they need to see themselves reflected on the stage,” says Irons. “We started a change by working with young musicians, getting them trained up and putting them out there. That was the strategy: train musicians, start touring them, put them forward for competitions. Get them winning awards. Create publicity and visibility.”
Theon Cross carrying his tuba through Deptford
© Neil Massey
The crowd get down to the Steam Down collective at Cross The Tracks
© Neil Massey
Trumpeter Dylan Jones plays live with his band Pyjaen
© Neil Massey
Gary Crosby and Janine Irons, Tomorrow's Warriors
© Neil Massey
If you want to change who’s coming to see the gigs and picking up instruments, then they need to see themselves reflected on the stage
A decade ago, Nubya Garcia was just another teenager having her first Tomorrow’s Warriors experience. “Someone mentioned that there was an open masterclass, so me and Rosie [Turton] went down,” she says. “Gary was super welcoming and adamant that he wanted us to come back. He was very encouraged to see people like us. I remember it really clearly, meeting everyone like Sheila Maurice-Grey, Moses Boyd and Theon Cross.” Garcia quickly became a key player in the Warriors, in its Female Frontline band, and also in another all-woman collective, Nérija.
“It felt like [Tomorrow’s Warriors] were championing young black and ethnic minority creatives, championing women in jazz and music in general,” she explains. “It was a safe space, like a youth club, where young people became very good friends and were all there for the same reason, wanting to learn as much as they could about a genre that people say is very hard to get into, very far away, very niche.” Garcia is now touring the world, playing huge gigs and winning awards, and she’s just one of a group of women of colour from the Warriors doing so. “Diversifying the scene,” says Crosby with a smile. “That was the real reason behind all of this.”
London to the world
Theon Cross sits at a table in Buster Mantis in Deptford. The industrial-chic cocktail bar is located in railway arches just off Deptford High Street, an old-school London thoroughfare that hosts a traditional market and features a new gentrified development near the train station. Cross has just spent the afternoon at a photoshoot on the high street. Walking past the market with his tuba under his arm, then blasting out a few riffs on the pavement for passers-by, he seems entirely at ease with his brass instrument on the streets of south-east London. It’s hardly surprising: this is the area where Cross and many of his jazz-playing peers cut their teeth, and is also the location of one of the capital’s biggest jazz nights, Steam Down, where he regularly plays.
1 min
Watch Theon Cross blaze a tuba solo in 60 seconds
The London jazz icon and bass engine of Sons Of Kemet shows what he's made of.
On stage, Cross brings a solid swagger to his instrument, creating fresh vibes in his tuba basslines with the suitable confidence of a person who, last year, was cited by the New York Times as a shining light of London jazz, and who is set to play a mammoth sell-out solo show this month at famous east London venue Village Underground. Sitting in the bar now, though, he’s modest and self-effacing as he contemplates the sounds of the diaspora that the Warriors have injected into UK jazz. “You meet people from all types of backgrounds,” he says, “which is particularly significant in our music because of the city’s multiculturalism and the differences that have been brought over from former colonies. Femi [Koleoso] and Ezra Collective bring a Nigerian element; there’s more of a Caribbean style to Sons of Kemet [Theon’s own group featuring Shabaka Hutchings, another famous Warriors export]; and Sheila [Maurice-Grey] and Kokoroko have another type of African element that’s Ghanaian. I’m only a second-generation immigrant, but many of the others are first generation. It’s fresh; we’re still very connected musically to ex-colonies, and that influence is coming through more in our improvisational styles. We’ve created our own style that people are getting behind and championing.”
These sounds of the diaspora are bringing a lot of attention to this group of musicians, but less is said about the years of traditional jazz training, scales, standards and theory that now form the backbone of their music. “That’s what the Warriors provided: a space for us to really train and weight-lift, to ‘get our chops together’ as musicians say,” explains Cross with a grin, leaning forward in his chair. “You see, we all trained in and studied American forms of jazz and we’re not trying to get too far away from that tradition. That’s very much down to having the home that Gary and Janine made – it enabled us to do the work in our teenage years. When it was time and people started looking for us to record or to play our music, in our twenties, we were well-rounded and versed in all different types of styles.”
To say that members of Tomorrow’s Warriors are the sole innovators pushing this jazz revival would be misleading; over the past few years, a number of individuals and organisations have added their own contribution to the pot. The Warriors have had the biggest influence in bringing about this new generation of musicians, but collectives like the hugely popular Steam Down – run by multi-instrumentalist, composer and producer Ahnansé – and regular jams such as Good Evening have brought the music to the city’s social spaces. While Tomorrow’s Warriors have been focusing on giving breaks to young jazz musicians, members of another organisation, Jazz Re:freshed, have been concentrating on bringing the music to the public.
Founded by Adam Moses and Justin McKenzie in 2003, Jazz Re:freshed is a movement and record label that has worked for the past 16 years to challenge the perceptions of the genre and ‘refresh’ it for a new audience, with both founders bringing their experience from hip-hop culture to the job. Playing Jazz Re:freshed’s regular slot at Mau Mau Bar in west London is a rite of passage and, over the years, Moses and McKenzie have seen every young jazz musician in London pass through their doors. “Before this generation of musicians, the players didn’t have the kind of connection to each other or the kind of community they have now,” says Moses. “Having these young people grow up together has been an important part of why we’re seeing this interconnected movement; it’s because they’re friends and consider each other as family.”
The organisation acts as a promoter for many of the Warriors, so Moses has a unique, front-row perspective of the changing live jazz scene. “There’s a correlation between black-led bands and more diverse audiences,” he says. “The new injection of youth culture [in jazz] has created a path that wasn’t there before, and it has established a new audience. So when we put on a night with a black-led band, you know that the audience will probably be slightly more diverse.”
The reality is that sometimes we’re working month-to-month in planning what we can continue to do
Crucially, Jazz Re:freshed and Tomorrow’s Warriors are both reliant on funding to support their work. “Recognition is one thing, but for organisations like ours and Tomorrow’s Warriors, funding is a major consideration,” says Moses. “The reality is that sometimes we’re working month-to-month in planning what we can continue to do.” Arts Council England was forced to cut its budget for 2018 to 2022 by £156m, meaning most funding in London has been frozen for the past few years, irrespective of running costs. This is a problem that Tomorrow’s Warriors are currently tackling; their funding ended in 2018 and the organisation has spent the past eight months trying to raise enough money to keep its doors open and its services free for members.
“Compared with the huge amount of work that Tomorrow’s Warriors do, and the impact they have had, their funding is not even close to 20 per cent of what they need,” says Moses. “Our organisations, our arts and our circle have always been underfunded. At a certain level, you have to be able to hustle your way through life, and you need to create things for yourself. Tomorrow’s Warriors are amazing at creating opportunities, just being able to do what they have to. It’s a huge testament to them, how they have managed to keep going for so long and make such a massive impact.”
At the time of this feature going to print, the Warriors are a month away from their funding cut-off date and around £15,000 shy of their total. “We’re looking to the future –that’s why we’re called Tomorrow’s Warriors,” says Irons. “That’s the thing about ‘Warriors’ and what that word conjures up. It’s strength, resilience, a willingness to fight for what you want.”
Whether it’s grime-infused tuba lines, afrobeat horns or a room of young people jumping around to a remixed Art Blakey track at 4am, jazz is the sound of the city in 2019. Go to any of the gigs and you’re sure to see recognisable jazz acts in the audience, lending their support. This is a community of mates making music not only for crowds to dance to, but for each other, too. One person you’re less likely to see at these late-night shows, however, is Gary Crosby. “Nubya’s music, Theon’s music... I don’t really listen to it, it’s not for me,” he says, laughing. “I’m 64 and it’s not my generation! But I don’t give a damn what they play; it’s nothing to do with me. I’m just glad to see they’ve built a career. Actually, I do like some of it... for a bit.”
Instead, you’ll see Crosby bright and early at the Southbank Centre every week, teaching the next group of teenagers who will soon be chasing this generation’s heels; encouraging and empowering young musicians as he has for almost 30 years. Tomorrow’s Warriors continue to teach the skills young people can use to help them practise, experiment and find their own place in UK jazz. “All I keep saying to them is: modern styles of music come and go, but if you want longevity as a career musician, you have to learn the basics,” he says. “Learn the blues, because they will allow you to play anywhere. But really that’s not what matters. I believe that the key is expressing to young musicians that this is not just an art form. It’s actually a job. It’s a duty to your community.”
This story is from the October 2019 issue of Red Bulletin, out now