BRANSCOMBE BRAINSTORM — Spike Wells

ALAN BRANSCOMBE was one of my favourite British jazz musicians, deserving of enormous respect and recognition.

Yet even in his lifetime he was what is called a “musicians’ musician” i.e. more known and admired within the profession than by the listening public (a bit like Hank Mobley in America).

And now he has been dead for 25 years, there is extremely scant coverage of him on the internet and every young musician I commend his playing to has never heard of him! Like our mutual friend Bobby Wellins, he was almost exactly ten years older than me. Like another favourite pianist of mine, Mick Pyne, he died at the early age of 50.

Alan was a bluff Northerner by origin. He was born in Wallasey on Merseyside in 1936 but he spent almost all his professional life on the London scene. He was a multi-instrumentalist, playing top class piano, vibes, percussion and alto saxophone. (Actually tenor as well on a Beatles record.) He was also a consummate arranger and occasional composer.

He did his National Service alongside bassist Jeff Clyne in 1954-6. Then he worked with Vic Ash in 1958 and Tony Kinsey in 1959.

He had subsequent long associations with John Dankworth, Harry South and Tubby Hayes.

I have to testify that he was heavily into drink and drugs (an archetypal “raver” of the sixties jazz scene like Phil Seamen and Tubby) and I reckon it was only because he had the constitution of an ox that he lived as long as he did.

On top of the damage he did to his own body, he had two further blows to his health.

In his forties, he suffered a serious fall which fractured his skull and caused a loss of memory. As a result, he had to virtually relearn to play music which he did triumphantly and courageously. (I know, having played with him in the 1970s at the height of his powers and then in 1985 a year before his death.)

If that wasn’t enough, having recovered from his fractured skull, he was mugged on the street and left unconscious.

For all his health problems, I can categorically confirm that Alan was always cheerful, positive, optimistic, friendly and warm. I admired his alto soloing and percussion skills at a relative distance. It was when he was seated at the keyboard that our musical rapport came into its own. He said he liked playing with me and I loved playing with him. His touch, his groove, his phrasing and choice of notes made him a sheer joy to accompany.

When I was working with Colin Purbrook at the start of my professional career in 1968, Alan joined Colin’s trio on vibes for a BBC Jazz Club broadcast which included the Carl Perkins tune Grooveyard. I have put this track back at the top of the Music page playlist this week.

Alan (on piano) and I also did broadcasts with Mark Murphy (he always asked for Alan on his visits) and others. I particularly like one with the Daryl Runswick quartet – now available on CD – where Alan shines on There is no greater love (also back at No.2 on the Music page playlist).

In 1972-3, Alan was a regular member of the Ian Hamer sextet on its gigs at the Bull’s Head, Barnes. Sometimes he was featured without the front line, as on It might as well be spring, a hitherto unheard performance which appears on my Playlist for the first time at No.3.. The recording is not great but it is a chance to hear Alan stretch out on electric piano and his touch and time feel are just as exquisite as when he is on acoustic piano.

Our ways parted for some years but it was a great delight (and as it turns out, a precious memory) to be reunited with him on a series of Bobby Wellins Sunday lunchtime gigs down at the Bognor Regis centre in the first part of 1985. He played beautifully and I had no idea at the time that his death was only 18 months away and that he would spend much of his final year in hospital.

BOBBY WELLINS and ALAN BRANSCOMBE in Bognor 1985 - a precious memory

Anecdotes fade with time but, before I forget these two, I will share them with you.

The first is a jingle Tubby Hayes was asked to write and record as the soundtrack to a 30 second TV advert for Borzoi vodka. Tubby booked Alan on vibes for the session. Alan usually wore a green suit, as I recall. On this occasion he arrived late, evidently the worse for wear, and Tubby commented loudly that his face was as green as the suit………….

The second is a story which Alan told me himself. Knowing my love of British B crime movies, he knew I would want to know that, in the house where he was living at the time in a first floor flat, the ground floor flat beneath him was occupied by one of my favourite character actors.

But there was more. Apparently, since Alan as a musician was obviously a late riser, he came to suspect that the old actor was opening Alan’s post when it was delivered to the communal front door. Nosiness? Looking for cheques? Alan wasn’t sure so one morning he crept down the stairs and caught him in the act. The actor, in slippers and dressing gown, was very embarrassed and mumbled something about not being able to read the names on the envelopes without his glasses which he seemed to have mislaid….. It never happened again.

Alan Branscombe can be found among the sidemen listed on many big band records but there is hardly anything available commercially under his own name.

There are two LPs, Alan Branscombe and friends Vols One and Two on which he plays mainly alto and vibes. The music was recorded in 1968 but was not released until 1988, two years after his death.

What stands out however as a worthy recorded legacy is the superb LP recorded and issued in 1977 entitled The day I met the blues. It features Alan on piano and electric piano (dig his tribute to Jimmy Yancey Fancy Yancey and wallow in his gorgeous chords and TONY COE’s sumptuous soprano saxophone on Black pussy).

Still miss you greatly, Alan. And love to your widow Jenny.