Andrew Pixley

"There are only two kinds of people in this world. Those who hear the
music and those who don't."  So says Trevor Chaplin as he places another
of his beloved jazz LPs on the turntable in the concluding instalment of
Alan Plater's blissful antidote to thriller series *The Beiderbecke
Connection* (1988). And we know he's not just talking about jazz. It's
about finding the people who understand the sense of rightness, delight
and value around them, and who can communicate that enthusiasm to others
through myriad media.

::: {#attachment_7622 .wp-caption .alignleft style="width: 224px"}
[![Fig. 1: "There are only two kinds of people in this world" Trevor
Chaplin (James Bolam) from The Beiderbecke
Connection](https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/james-bolam-trevor-chaplin.jpg){.size-full
.wp-image-7622 loading="lazy" decoding="async"
aria-describedby="caption-attachment-7622" width="214" height="128"
srcset="https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/james-bolam-trevor-chaplin.jpg 214w, https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/james-bolam-trevor-chaplin-140x84.jpg 140w"
sizes="(max-width: 214px) 100vw, 214px"}](https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/james-bolam-trevor-chaplin.jpg)

Fig. 1: "There are only two kinds of people in this world" Trevor
Chaplin (James Bolam) from *The Beiderbecke Connection*
:::

Communication is great when it works, but it doesn't always cross
cultures easily. Even after being greeted by one of the world's nicest
security guards, my wife and I remained a bit apprehensive when we
arrived at the Parkside Building of Birmingham City University last
Saturday. The words 'jazz' and 'telly' had lured us to Dr Nicolas
Pillai's one-day conference 'Jazz on the Telly'. Telly is easy. It's
something we grew up with as twentieth century First World children --
as natural as breathing. We're fascinated by striking, well-made,
captivating television -- from \[*The*\] *Naked City*
(1958-1959/1960-1962) to *The Adventure Game* (1980-1986). Jazz is
trickier. We know we like it, but we don't know why.

So, we were pretty confident that we could get by with the telly bit.
We're facile -- we enjoy television for all manner of simple
entertainment pleasures. While academic works praise *Doctor Who*
(1963-1989, one day in 1996, 2005-) for cultural perspectives
demonstrated via inter-disciplinary responses, we're mainly in it for
the monsters and the spaceships. Both are valid sets of values.

When it comes to jazz, we're less confident. In *The Beiderbecke
Connection*, Jill Swinburne trisects the genre into "Hot. Cool. And what
time does the tune start?" We're not quite that bad, but still pretty
facile. We adore *Under Milk Wood* by the Stan Tracey Quartet but cannot
describe it. We may not be able to identify the soloist on Duke
Ellington's *Cotton Tail*, but we do know that when Kenny Baker was
playing cornet on *The Beiderbecke Connection* that he wasn't doing it
on a day off from operating R2-D2.

While we can grasp concepts, it's often the specialised vocabulary --
inherent in any profession -- that floor us. Especially since we're
often baffled by words of over three syllables. In fact, we struggle
with 'syllable'. Hence the apprehension.

To contextualise our academic experiences ... At the University of
Bradford I embarked on first a MEng and then a BEng in electronics,
leaving me with a stronger grasp of how to apply Ohm's Law then debate
didactic discourses on *Burke's Law* (1963-1965). Subsequent pondering
on turning my 5B6B coding notions into a PhD were interrupted when a
nice man phoned me up and asked me to write for *Doctor Who Magazine*
which seemed to offer more in the way of monsters and spaceships. My
wife attended the University of Life; they have branches everywhere and
the wisdom they dispense lacks formal abbreviations. She may not be hot
on the semiotic thickness of a text, but she can whip you up a mean
trial balance to save you from bankruptcy.

So, when we entered Room P132 (marked down from P134), we didn't know if
we'd comprehend the conference. We knew little about Dr Nicolas Pillai
beyond seeing him five months earlier on  the brilliant *Jazz 625 Live*
on BBC Four (or BBC2 as it used to be known), but strongly suspected
that he didn't want to be greeted by a lazy catchphrase from*The
Simpsons* (1989-).

When Dr Pillai began to speak, we *knew* we were safe. What he delivered
was a cool composition featuring one of our favourite places: the BBC
WAC. Sorry... Written Archive Centre. Passion transcended cultural
communication barriers as his understanding and employment of its
contents beamed direct into our hearts. This amazing establishment which
looks like granny's cottage from the outside and the end of *Raiders of
the Lost Ark* from the inside is a place we have visited many times in
the last 35 years. We even spent part of our honeymoon there, delving
into our favourite TV series -- the satirical slapstick of *Elizabeth R*
(1971) and the landmark historical play cycle featuring *The Goodies*
(1970-1982). My wife discovered why Glenda wasn't that chuffed by the
first evening in TC1 while I learnt about injuries caused by the use of
elasticated pigtails in a film sequence.

::: {#attachment_7621 .wp-caption .alignleft style="width: 221px"}
[![Fig 3: "I have the heart and stomach of a king!" Queen Elizabeth
(Glenda Jackson) in Elizabeth R: The Enterprise of
England](https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/fig3.jpg){.size-full
.wp-image-7621 loading="lazy" decoding="async"
aria-describedby="caption-attachment-7621" width="211" height="157"
srcset="https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/fig3.jpg 211w, https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/fig3-140x104.jpg 140w"
sizes="(max-width: 211px) 100vw, 211px"}](https://cstonline.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/fig3.jpg)

Fig 3: "I have the heart and stomach of a king!"  
Queen Elizabeth (Glenda Jackson) in *Elizabeth R: The Enterprise of
England* \[1\]*  
*
:::

The WAC is where we are guilty of using our own jargon. Getting out T5s
and T85s to see if they contain OB schedules or a PasR, then
cross-referencing protagonists via their TCONT. In the microfilm room, I
view the PasCs and see what CPTel might have said CBBC1 at the PRB,
while my wife consults barometers to access ARRs and understand the AIs.

My wife and I mine the BBC files for our own writing and researches...
and have enjoyed the thrill of working on broadcast projects celebrating
the series we adore; witnessing the magic recreated on the sets of
*Return of the Goodies* (2005) and *An Adventure in Space and Time*
(2013). And we *immediately* sensed that Nicolas was blessed by the same
buzz from his once-in-a-lifetime chance of bringing the seminal series
*Jazz 625* (1964-1966) back to life for one night only.

P132 became the Singing Room of the Limping Whippet. We experience the
delight of Dr Pillai's *Jazz 1080* recreation and thanked producer Mike
Connolly for *Jazz Britannia* (2005), the series that made us rush out
to buy *Under Milk Wood* in the first place.

Last Saturday, we heard the music. We really *did* hear the music.

** **

------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Andrew Pixley** is a retired data developer. For the last 30 years
he's written about almost anything to do with television if people will
pay him -- and occasionally when they won't. He has contributed to
numerous DVD, Blu-ray and CD releases of television material, acted as
consultant on broadcast documentaries and written for numerous
specialist magazines.

 

\[1\] Okay -- fair cop. It's really Tim Brooke-Taylor in *The Goodies*:
*Royal Command*

 

 

 


“There are only two kinds of people in this world. Those who hear the music and those who don’t.”  So says Trevor Chaplin as he places another of his beloved jazz LPs on the turntable in the concluding instalment of Alan Plater’s blissful antidote to thriller series
<em>
 The Beiderbecke Connection
</em>
(1988). And we know he’s not just talking about jazz.

Messaggi di Rogue Scholar

HEARING THE MUSIC