Johnny Gray: Article 1

Is it true that you recently burned all your bandparts?

Yes, the aggravation of leading a band finally got too much for me and the whole bloody lot went up in a pint-and-a-half of petrol.

It’s not that you think that bands, as such, have had it?

The big band as we think of it, the 8 brass and 5 saxes, definitely has. It’s completely outdated as regards sound. The kids, the people who buy records, are only interested in the electronic sound. People say to me what about the Losses and Mackintoshes and so forth. But with all due respect to them, if the circumstances under which they’re employed were to change, they’d be in the same position as I am—where they’d have to do something about it.

Burn their bandparts?

And go as a single. Have another beer.

Thanks. You’re 45 now—

Last May 15. Born 1920 and I’ve been 30 years in the business. Cheers!

We knew you first as a poll-winning tenor-player in the Heath Band; how have you had to adapt yourself to stay in this teenage business?

In my opinion, age does not come into this. I have perhaps two people I admire very much. One is Louis Armstrong, who’s a real stormer, perhaps like I am, and age has never come into it with Louis. And I love the Basie Band because it swings like a bitch at all times. My opinion is that you must always keen at the back of your mind what the teenager wants up to the age of 20. If you can keep the respect of these kids, then vou’ll stav in the business. Once you lose it, you must forget about it.

And for my part I’m terribly proud that I’ve just signed a three-year contract with CBS, which proves that one of the biggest record companies in the world thinks that, even at my age, I’m still producing the sort of sound that will sell to the record-buying public.

Why do you think they suddenly stop buying records at 20?

Well, that’s the terrible thing. And it only seems to happen in this country. There’s this tremendous section of the public over the age of 20 which we in the business seem to have lost completely— probably through terrible taxes, impossible mortgage rates and so on. When they get married at 20 or 21 we lose them completely to the idiot box and their hire purchase agreements and they never come and see live artists again. Everywhere else I’ve been—France, Switzerland, Germany, Scandinavia, America—those places you can work as long as you like to people whose ages catch up with you. But in England, once the kids become 21 they get married, and within six months they have a kid and you never seem them again. Unless they win the bloody Premium Bonds. Have another.

It’s my turn. Cheers! But you’ve started playing club dates as a single; how do they . . .

For years I concentrated solely on the teenage public, but now as a single in the clubs, especially up North, I find the more mature, the older people coming in, so I’ve changed my act considerably, and the roaring, raving tenor has been brought down to the extent that I play a little bit more subtle. And I find that even with playing beautiful numbers like “September Song” with very dark lighting, it’s one of the biggest things I do. Because I’m sure they remember me from the Ted Heath Palladium shows. And this is a great thing, because it proves that, in the five more years I want to stay in the business, I can play the sort of numbers I want to. and probably find the audience that will appreciate them. In other words, I want to play good, nice music, and have a bloody good rave-up and get everybody drinking. Have another.

Thanks. What’s your most vivid memory of the Heath days?

I spent six years with Ted and every one of them was marvellous. The most fantastic thing I remember was in Scandinavia when all the kids followed me along and threw stones at me. They thought I was the bloody Pied Piper of Hamelin.

When you left Ted and formed your Band of the Day you went to the States many times in exchange for people like Kenton and Herman and Brubeck and.. .

And Louis. We did quite a few exchanges for Kenton. And the reason—not just in my opinion, but because I really know this—is that we were the most organised and displomatic group to make it possible for the American band to come over here. This is so tightly governed—it’s a legal exchange, purely on a man-for-man basis—and everybody must remember that you must be a respectable person to be allowed in. And never—under any circumstances did we ever breach a contract or fail to comply with the regulations. In other words, through our going there for seven years in succession on an H 1 Permit, the big American attractions could come over here. Every musician who went with me, including Matt Monro as vocalist, behaved 100 per cent. as a gentleman.

Mind you. when we appeared on the stand we appeared as the most irresponsible lot of ridiculous Englishmen you’ve ever seen. But when we came everybody was literally under military law. They couldn’t do anything without my permission. That’s why we kept going there. Apart from the fact that we were terrifically successful, especially in the last few years in the club dates, because at all times we were professionals.

How did your bookings compare with over here?

Well, we finished one of our trips in the most fantastic blaze of glory you could ever see. With me I had Laurie Holloway on piano, Arthur Watts on bass, Bobby Kevin on drums, myself on tenor, Judy Jones singing, and it was a fantastic group, that’s all you could say. All the American greats, from Judy Garland upwards and downwards, were absolutely raving about it. And the first date we came back to was for Arthur Howes—at the Rollerdrome in Wisbech!

How did it go?

Well, that’s it! Right opposite us was a new promoter just starting up. And to knock Arthur and myself out of the running he put on a dance for the potato pickers! Free! And Arthur and I both lost our balls.

Have you ever thought of becoming an agent?

I did try to be an agent a few years ago, but the horrible people I had to deal with really turned my guts over.

How do you get on with the BBC?

I’ve probably done about 3,000 broadcasts for the BBC and I must say the sound and television people have been very, very good to me. At all times they’ve been very fair and It’s a great corporation to work for. (As long as you’re in. If you’re out, you’re out.) But I don’t think they really know where they’re going right now, because the professionals have taken over at the ITV and they’re probably going to put the BBC out of business. The businessmen of this business will always beat the big corporations, the civil servants. I think’s it’s a terrible thing, because if you lose the BBC you’re going to lose a terrific amount of payment to all artists: writers, musicians, everybody.

You mean . . .

I mean really vicious businesslike professionals. Probably what’s happened is that a lot of the second-rate people have been promoted into positions of authority and are stifling the creative people underneath them.

Do you think this applies to the business generally? . .

The whole of the pop entertainment business. Agents, producers, directors today need no talent at all. Because they just wait for the charts to come out and book the idiots who come in the charts.

Suppose you ever had to give up playing, what would you do?

If I had to, I could become a skilled engineer. I am a skilled engineer. But what I would do is work behind a bar, because I love serving drinks to my friends. Cheers!

If you had to recommend an instrument to a youngster today, which would it be?

I’d recommend him to the tenor saxophone, because it’s the instrument that has remained popular throughout the whole of the decade. But if anybody’s got any sense he’ll learn to play trumpet or trombone, for the simple reason that, for the last five or six years, everybody’s learned to play these idiot guitars, and the day will come when session men like Stan Roderick and Tommy McQuater and suchlike are too bloody old and there’ll be nobody to take their place. Learn to play trumpet or trombone and you’ll be able to jump in.

Are you superstitious?

Yes! Every day I look to see what Taurus the Bull is doing, and the bastard always lets me down.

Why do most musicians drink so much?

I drink a lot of beer because I love beer. I’m a wind instrumentalist and I think you must drink because the saliva goes down the bloody saxophone. I’m one of the few saxophone players who drinks a lot of beer; it’s mostly brass players. But I blow like a bastard and that’s why I like to drink beer. I don’t smoke. I don’t have any other vices. Eh? I don’t count that as a vice.

Is that why they’ve booked you to do a beer commercial?

This was the greatest piece of casting in the business. And I'm very proud that some guy was walking along the street and spotted me and thought: “There’s a real drinking bastard, let’s get him to do a commercial.”

What is your ultimate ambition?

To spend another five years in the business, and then retire and go and live in the South of France or Italy. And never play again. Follow that!