Jack Parnell (1923–2010)
Jack Parnell was a drummer, composer and band leader. He was born into a theatrical family in London and his uncle was the theatrical impresario Val Parnell, for whom Parnell worked on many TV productions.
During his military service in the 1940s he became a member of Buddy Featherstonhaugh’s Radio Rhythm Club Sextet and played drums with Vic Lewis and other servicemen who were keen on jazz. Later, he recorded with Lewis as the Lewis-Parnell Jazzmen.
Parnell was voted best jazz drummer in the Melody Maker poll for seven years in succession up to 1952. Later, he composed the theme music for many popular TV programmes including ‘Love Story’, ‘Father Brown’, ‘The Golden Shot’ and ‘Family Fortunes’.
In 1956, Parnell was appointed musical director for the TV company, ATV, a post he held until 1981. Throughout the 1960s, Parnell directed the pit orchestra for ‘Sunday Night at the London Palladium’, produced by his uncle, Val Parnell. He was the ‘real’ conductor for the Muppet Show orchestra for the entire run of the series.
During the 1970s, Parnell co-founded the group The Best of British Jazz with Kenny Baker, Don Lusher, Betty Smith, Tony Lee and Tony Archer, which performed until 1985.
At the end of his career, Parnell played with Mike Capocci Trio, who backed saxophonists Johnny Griffin, Ronnie Ross and Kathy Stobart. In 1994, he took over as the leader of the London Big Band, which comprised some of Britain’s leading jazz musicians.
Biography by Mike Rose
All-electric big band
Jack Parnell talked to Les Tomkins twice in 1976. In this first interview he talks about the potential of electrification and how television could do more to promote music.
Jack Parnell: Interview 1
Image Details
| Interview date | 1st January 1976 |
|---|---|
| Interview source | Jazz Professional |
| Image source credit | |
| Image source URL | |
| Reference number | |
| Forename | Jack |
| Surname | Parnell |
| Quantity | 1 |
Interview Transcription
The appeal of our big band TV shows may well indicate that a lot of people have got a little bit fed up with all the heavily amplified music—it is a bit strong at times.
And a big band still makes enough woof, but without that electric feeling about it. Which I love, incidentally; when it’s controlled, you know, like Herbie Hancock and things like that, I think it’s a lovely sound. I’ve heard some marvellous things—great time, good music—from an awful lot of the rock groups. I’m certainly not opposed to electrification in itself; I’m opposed to when it sort of takes over, and it just goes over the border. But when it’s clear and crystal and swinging, it’s just fine.
As for importing some of that into a big band context—I’m very seriously looking into it. Because I think that what would be very exciting—if there was a desk, and the thing was put through microphones, so that everybody had them; they were on everything. Trying to recreate the sound of a band on a record, I mean, might be tremendously interesting, because you could then play very quiet—and all those inner harmonies that you sometimes miss could come through. The actual music content could improve, with that.
It has been said that the big band should be more orchestral. Well, the writing does that, and the kind of amplification I’m talking about would be a way of bringing that off. Even so, though, it can’t go too far away from swinging. But then good orchestral music swings, when it’s really good. That’s what it’s all about, really. What it’s also all about is public reaction.
It’s been a big kick for me lately to work to an audience. Actually, though, I’ve got so used to not having one, I find it a bit difficult. You know: “Oh, my goodness—people.” I can’t get so introverted about music. Then, I don’t know—you’ve got to get into the music. But I remember, when I was a full–time drummer, I was conscious of being a bit of a showman—I’ve got right out of that. In front of the band, I can turn round and talk to people, but on the drums, that business of putting it over—I’m a bit lost with all that now.
I certainly do think television should do more, as far as music is concerned. But on that score, it’s in competition with records, isn’t it? And the sound quality can’t get up to that level. I think that’s one of the reasons why there isn’t more of it used on television—its actual sound from the speaker doesn’t knock people out. Although, on the ,other hand, when you hear something beautifully recorded—like some of the background music on these American whodunnits—it’s thrilling. Sounds terrific.
So that puts that one out. I don’t know; I haven’t got an answer to it. Perhaps it’s because it’s expensive. But still, it’s no more expensive having musicians doing a band show than it is having them accompanying artists. It must be just the proof, that in some way or other, comedy and drama are more popular on television than music is. As I say, records are what you’re really up against. Incidentally, we’ve made a record ,of some of the material from the TV show, and that’s in the shops now.
Without doubt, music is very well represented on records; most of the stuff that’s good is getting recorded. Tons of records are being made, and I think the new people are able to get a hearing. I’m always hearing things. Hardly a week goes by when I don’t get knocked out with somebody I haven’t heard before, on records. In jazz, I do think advances are being made—not enormous ones, any more than they were at any time in the past—Oscar Peterson might not be playing anything particularly new—but Keith Jarrett is, and people like that. At the moment, jazz is really a small group medium; big band jazz is not the most extended part of the repertoire.
It remains to be seen, what direction it’ll go in. As for the free form idea—part of that is good, but jazz has still got to swing, for me. If it’s a bit too freaky, I don’t care for it; I like a bit of a foot–tapping feel, you know. Of the younger musicians, the ones you like are the ones who’ve got that feel—you start picking them out.
Because that’s not an old–fashioned feel; it’s as much of today as ever it was. That’s the same thing, that keeps going through.
Copyright © 1976, Les Tomkins. All Rights Reserved
