SIMON DUFF relishes the cross contamination of Damien Hirst’s greatest hits by street artists from France and the US
‘The day jazz washed away the dust of everyday life*’
CHRIS SEARLE pops into his local for some serendipitous jazz goings-on
Jim Mullen
[Jeff Hardcastle/CC]
In view of the grooming gangs inquiry, SIMON PARSONS feels the relevance of this powerful examination of trauma suffered at Medomsley Youth Detention Centre
JOHN GREEN doubts the motivations of a US war photographer who never questions why, or for whom, she is producing images of imperialist conflict
MARIA DUARTE reviews Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, Hedda, The Mastermind, and Regretting You
TONY CONWAY welcomes a thrilling and concise history of Hope not Hate, that is also a manual full of tactical advice
PAUL DONOVAN welcomes an inspiring account of living with deafness that has important lessons for the treatment of deaf people in today’s UK
IN THE upstairs room in my local pub just up the road — The County Arms in Highams Park, east London — Sunday evenings are jazz feasts.
There is always a guest musician of renown, a local accompanying trio of bass, drums and keyboards, followed by a chance for local musicians, young and old, to share the stage with the guest, and gain invaluable confidence from the encounter.
Last week it was the great veteran Glaswegian guitarist, Jim Mullen, who played an opening set including beautifully sharp ballads like I’ll Close My Eyes, I Can’t Get Started and Angel Eyes, with bop classics like Clifford Brown’s Sandu and Wes Montgomery’s Road Song.
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