Ken Mackintosh (1925–2014)
Ken Mackintosh was a saxophonist, composer and bandleader who had one of the most popular British big bands of the post-war era. He was known for his swinging interpretation and commercially successful recording of “The Creep” in 1953, which he co-wrote under the pseudonym ‘Andy Burton’.
Mackintosh was born in Liversedge, Yorkshire, England, where his father was an amateur musician. He learnt tenor saxophone from the age of 14 and soon started playing in local bands.
At the outbreak of World War II Mackintosh joined the Royal Army Service Corps, also playing in a military band. After demobilisation he joined a series of bands before forming his own in 1948.
He broadcast regularly on the BBC during the 1950s and 1960s and toured for more than 10 years, playing concerts in the UK and performing on cruise ships. A seven-year residency at the Empire Ballroom in Leicester Square, London, was followed by a similar stint at The Hammersmith Palais before moving to The Royal, Tottenham.
His band recorded albums and accompanied singers such as Tom Jones, Shirley Bassey, Matt Monro, Alma Cogan, Anne Shelton and Frankie Vaughan. The band also had its own radio series – Mack the Knife.
With big bands in decline, bookings reduced during the 1970s and Mackintosh took semi-retirement, though he remained in demand as a conductor. He occasionally played saxophone and led a local orchestra until shortly before his death.
Biography by John Rosie
The Palais plumb job
Tony Brown, editor of Crescendo, reflects on the show by Ken Mackintosh and his Orchestra at the re-opening of the Mecca Empire Ballroom, Leicester Square, London in 1963.
Read the original article in Crescendo, April 1963, pp2–3.
Ken Mackintosh: Article 3
Image Details
| Interview date | 1st January 1963 |
|---|---|
| Interview source | Jazz Professional |
| Image source credit | |
| Image source URL | |
| Reference number | |
| Forename | Ken |
| Quantity | 3 |
| Surname | Mackintosh |
Interview Transcription
THERE is a plush opulence about the new Mecca Empire Ballroom, Leicester Square, that is going to be talked about months hence. The official opening on March 19 was what is known as a Gala occasion—lashings of champagne and oodles of cocktail snacks, hordes of servers to make one feel important, soft lights and sweet music, dispensed by the Arthur Coppersmith Orchestra, no less. And sweet, indeed, was the Coppersmith contribution—a discreet blend of the lighter Classics and show tunes, played by musicians of long service and unobtrusive technique. Real old pros—if they’ll forgive the ambiguity, and meant in the best possible sense.
Most of the people behind the scenes figured that this was a discreet evening. The audience (admission by ticket only) was not, definitely not, a Palais crowd. One could have jostled along the corridors with small, fussy-looking gentlemen decorated with gold chains. We heard it said that practically every mayor in Greater London was present. And plenty of other Celebrities of all shapes and sizes. We fancied we caught a glimpse of the Right Hon. BessieBraddock, MP—about the most famous Scouse in the business and we were longing to see her Twist, but didn’t. There was earnest muttering around the band room on the lines of “Keep it down” and we figured that it didn’t refer to the champers and nosh.
Now this same Empire Ballroom has cost, we hear, a million and a half, give or take a quid or so. Some of the most important people there, from the point of view of those on our side of the business were Mecca executives. Persuading them that their musical judgement had been sound had to stop a long way short of the usual Palais bash, yet demonstrate that the musicians were,, indeed, up to the actual job for which they had been booked. We listened with some respect to David Rabin, representative of the booking agency that had handled the negotiations for the Ken Mackintosh Orchestra. Musicwise, David said—or words tothat effect—all this doesn’t mean a thing. Some of these bigwigs will tell you to keep it down right until darling daughter asks them why the band hasn’t played a Twist. Then you’ll see. All very true, we felt.
We listened to the Mayor of Westminster, Councillor P.A. Negretti read his welcome-in speech, admiring his ingenuity. He conceded that mayors might be squares, so far as this type of establishment was concerned, referring in passing to cobbler’s twist and the use of the word as applied to playing cards. We guessed what he was leading up to and plied ourselves with refreshment until the preliminary rounds were over.
Ken Mackintosh and his boys came in with a muffled bang and we watched those experienced Mackintosh eyes ranging over the impressive scene. And rightly, we felt, he went into what amounted to a tasting of his repertoire. He gave all three of his vocalists a showing in solo spots and trios, throwing in a TV Commercial medley for good measure. Waltzes and smoothies, he gave them—but he also had the nerve (and the wit) to feature the Twist, complete with the beefy bravura of a tenor solo. At the same time, regardless of the considerable conversational hubbub induced by the free-flowing fizz, he didn’t try to blow any of the distinguished guests from the hall.
Ivor Rabin, another of the late Oscar’s knowledgeable sons, was taken with the decor. “See that bar,” he insisted, gesturing toward a miniature fairyland in amber. “There isn’t a better bar than that in the whole of the West End. It’s fantastic.” We were prepared to take his word for it. But getting back to the Mackintosh band . . . . It has been together for a long time—and it sounded like it. No rough spots. Strong in all departments. We heard one Terry Gray belting out the Rockers and Twisters at rehearsal as if he really meant them and were inclined to sneer. Then during one of Ken’s Miller Specials, we heard a full-blooded beautifully warm and well-controlled trumpet blowing. Admirable. Rockers and Twisters have to be taken seriously after that.
Again, we noted that the band uses one of those grotesque-looking electrified basses—and were agreeably surprised to hear that they can be made to sound musical. Ken also features electric organ, as an alternative to the piano. And being primarily a musician he uses it musically. The arrangements are first-class, though understandably we didn’t hear any jazzers during the Gala opening. Our spies tell us that there are some capable stylists hidden within the ranks who emerge on less stuffy occasions. Tonally the brass and reed sections were so good and there was always that agreeable suggestion of power to spare. We heard the lads have a bit of a blow during the rehearsal. “That’s A-Plenty” brought up to date by the pianist arranger—and so nicely that this good old-un sounded fresh, indeed.
All three vocalists are good at their own particular stuff—an asset to the band. The Mackintosh band is going to do well at the Empire, make no mistake. General opinion after the show was that the Empire crowd is very much an unknown factor in the musical situation, With a venue situated right in the heart of the cosmopolitan West End, it is not to be assumed that it will demand an all-out Palais assault to keep dancers on the floor. Nobody wanted to predict that they will be predominantly teenage. Said David Rabin: “Give it a month, Ken.” Ken is wise enough to keep his own counsel. But cracking another bottle of champagne with him in his dressing room afterwards, we noted the gleam in his eye. He has landed the plum Palais job in Europe. For sure, he’ll know just what to do with it.
Tony Brown in 1963
