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It was, perhaps, this catholicity of taste that gave Mike - who was essentially a
traditional jazzman - the ability to function so well alongside mainstream/modernists
such as Alan Barnes, Bruce Adams and Roy Williams. Obviously they could see that
he didn’t aspire to their level of virtuosity but, I think, they could also recognise
and appreciate a jazzman who was inventive, responsive, gloriously swinging and commendably
free from cliché. Yes, Mike certainly enjoyed playing with the likes of Barnes and
Adams but you shouldn’t get the idea that he was some kind of closet bopper who played
in a traditional band whilst yearning for ‘better things’. Far from it, in fact he’d
often gig with musicians whose abilities were patently way beneath his own. This
certainly wasn’t for the peanuts that these gigs paid, but rather he was a nice guy
who simply loved to play with people who loved to play. Whilst he was generously
tolerant of the musical frailty of others it must be admitted that there were a couple
of things that he found hard to stomach. First, although he was no prude, he loathed
the happy clappy joyless jollity that disfigures some traditional jazz. Second, although
he was no Philistine, he detested pomposity and pretension. Aside from that he was
essentially your happy jazzer who’d much rather play than pontificate.
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Ask anyone who knew him and you’d be told the same thing: Mike Turner was a thoroughly
decent human being who was modest, generous and kind. Very much the sort of non-judgemental
bloke that you’d really hate to disappoint. He also happened to be an English reed
player who played jazz with what you can only describe as real authority. That he
wasn’t nationally famous must surely be down to the fact that he never turned pro,
but those of us who knew him and loved his work have no doubts concerning its quality.
This short appreciation is one man’s attempt to explain why he meant so much to so
many.
When I first heard Mike - over 30 years ago - he was clearly someone who knew what
he was doing. He played in tune, he stayed on the chords, he wasn’t short of ideas
and he was dead easy to play with. Over the years I’ve heard him get better and better
and, now that he’s been snatched away, you have to wonder how he did it.
One thing you could say for a kick-off is that Mike, most assuredly, was not one
for courses and clinics and we’d often have a laugh about those jazzmen who advertised
their ‘classical training’ as if it’s a guarantee of their ability to play jazz.
Mike, on the other hand, never had a lesson in his life but he always seemed to be
in control. He’d got the technique he needed to play what was in his head and anything
past that might well have struck him as both pointless and a bit of a drag.
Mike liked to quote Wally Fawkes who claimed not to be good enough to practise. Playing
exercises and reading up on theory weren’t for him but he was a zealous listener
who delighted in picking out detail rather than bathing in a wash of warm sound.
His record collection was a testimony to his open-mindedness and good taste. I couldn’t
list all of his heroes but here’s a selection - Oliver, Lewis, Parker, Mezzrow, Dodds,
Sandy Brown, Art Pepper, Bruce Turner, Pee Wee, Zoot Sims, Condon, Wally Fawkes.
The list could go on and on and he listened to them all avidly and for pleasure.
The essential method was that he listened and - almost as a by-product - he learned
how it’s done.
On the desk in front of me as I write, I’ve propped up the order of service for ‘Mike
Turner - jazz musician and amiable cove’. The photo was taken on holiday in Morocco
and shows him smiling benignly with glass and bottle to hand. Over the page the actual
order of service includes spoken tributes from friends, a recording of a radio tribute
and, of course, there was music. On disc there was ’Blood Count’ from Hodges and
the Duke, plus Mike’s own version of Charles Trenet’s ‘Que reste-t-il de nos amours?’
There was live music at the start and the end - ‘Burgundy Street’ from Eric Newton,
Jake Reeves and Harri Forelius whilst people filed in and ‘There Will Never Be Another
You’ from Bruce Adams and Roy Williams when the humanist service reached its end.
The next page of the booklet was devoted to quotes from Mike’s favourite film ‘This
Is Spinal Tap’ and then, over the page, the words that say much more than any of
mine could: ‘Monika, Katherine and Isabelle would like to invite you back to the
Trumpet pub in Bilston for a day of good food, excellent beer and live jazz, in remembrance
of Mike. Mike called the Trumpet his ‘spiritual home’..... all donations will be
used to enable the Trumpet to continue to bring world class jazz to the West Midlands
by inviting guest musicians and staging special events’.
Mike was, indeed, ‘not only a talented jazz musician and a great mate, but also a
wonderful husband and a truly, truly unbeatable dad.’
He can’t be replaced. He won’t be forgotten.
From Carol Ann Duffy - Poet Laureate
"It was always a delight to work with Mike and his fellow musicians. Poetry and jazz
have long had a great affinity and Mike stood proudly and sensitively in that tradition.
I had really been looking forward to returning to Stafford next year as Poet Laureate
and gigging again with Mike and the band - but I know that when we do, it will be
in his honour and memory. We should treasure our musicians and artists while we have
them - and Mike was real gold."
