Lockwood and Taylor first teamed up when they played with Stephane Grappelli in the 1970s, which was for both of them the bedrock of their subsequent solo careers. It’s fitting then that one of the songs they play is Grapelli’s ‘Nuages’. To be honest I had feared a bit of a Hot Club de Paris nostalgia night, but thankfully nothing could have been further from the truth. Taylor is noted for his ability to play both fluid bass lines and imposing and lyrical melodies at the same time – tonight he had a willing bass player in Lockwood, who was happy to pluck bass lines as Taylor improvised effortless solos, as he demonstrated on another Grapelli favourite, Sony Rollin’s ‘Pent up house’. Taylor is a remarkably laid back and apparently jolly fellow – he grins rather than grimaces his way through his solos, and some of his music is a humorous as it is humbling – take for example ‘Down at Kokomo’s” (which for some reason I has thought was called ‘Rum Beach’” where with dampened strings he turns his guitar into a steel band – we could have been in Notting Hill - and manages to change key by adjusting the position of his capo mid-tune. He also played an absurdly complex solo on his beautiful Vanden semi-acoustic guitar using only what would describe as (no doubt incorrectly) apparent harmonics. All you really need to know is that it was difficult and delicious. I’m not sure if it was during this piece or the next that Didier struck out with his wah-wah violin, but as the evening continued he became an increasingly dominant player in the partnership, encouraged by Taylor. When he spoke in broken English he apologised “that I was going to be a nice violinist but then my brother showed me jazz” as he introduced esteemed pianist-sibling Francis Lockwood (“who is just here as a tourist”) who formed a trio, and then dueted with his brother, at which point it seemed the evening was getting very, well…French. Didier Lockwood then played a remarkable solo piece (“from middle east to middle earth” I scrawled in my notebook) in which he brought into play the full gamut of his heavily laden pedals board. I suppose it might have been described as “show off” (he certainly did the grimace thing) but it held the audience spellbound as he used loops, delays and echoes, and every part of his violin, to paint a vivid series of musical pictures. My memory is of a Hebredian seashore with wild surf and seagulls, but our Japanese friends got very animated when they swore they could hear a chanting football crowd. Quite simply remarkable.

Check the index of all reviews:
Nick's Concert Reviews