Ken Waxman on Taking the Dog for a Walk

The New York City Jazz Record, November 2015

Taking the Dog for a Walk is the definitive portrait of British free improvisation. Yet, from the first sequence of drummer Mark Sanders improvising alongside a bingo caller, the sardonic humor implicit in the genre isn’t neglected either—note the vintage clip of Lol Coxhill and other improvisers in zoot suit disguise playing at a beach resort. Even the title references the hoary jape that four men and a dog was the typical audience.

Taking the Dog for a Walk is the definitive portrait of British free improvisation. Yet, from the first sequence of drummer Mark Sanders improvising alongside a bingo caller, the sardonic humor implicit in the genre isn’t neglected either—note the vintage clip of Lol Coxhill and other improvisers in zoot suit disguise playing at a beach resort. Even the title references the hoary jape that four men and a dog was the typical audience.

Encompassing discussions with more than 20 players and informed observers of the scene, interspaced with key performances at London clubs, the film proves that BritImprov is a constantly evolving sound, which now spans three generations. Reminiscences about drummer John Stevens and guitarist Derek Bailey’s mid ‘60s experiments at the Little Theatre club are given their due. But observers counter that the scene didn’t begin and end there. Although veterans like percussionist Eddie Prévost describe how the music initially evolved as a white, British response to the free jazz of Black Americans, drummer Roger Turner posits that the infamous description of BritImprov as hushed “insect music” came about because many of the pioneers lived in bed-sits with neighbors all around. Free music’s acceptance that every performance can’t be perfect is also mentioned with pride by many. Drummer Steve Noble also quarrels with those who call the sounds “self-indulgent”. Self-indulgence, he says, is rehearsing and putting on the same show every time. The most profound difference with the third generation of free improvisers is the interpolation of rock, reggae, electronic, noise and notated sounds.

Except for the frequently cited Bailey (1930-2005), the film’s archetypical figure may be Alex Ward. Someone equally proficient twining hushed abstract clarinet lines with soprano saxophonist Coxhill as playing scorching noise guitar with Edwards and Noble, he demonstrates in speech and performance that U.K. free improv has an exciting future.