Pianos, Toys, Music and Noise is a different kind of biography. Eschewing the formal narrative structure of conventional approaches, Andy Hamilton constructs his profile of the 70 year old British musician and composer Steve Beresford from a series of conversations and interviews to which are added short reminiscences from friends and colleagues of the artist. As Hamilton points out, the conversations used in the book are not verbatim but rather constructions agreed between author and subject. This interview-based method of organising material is quite common in classical music but less so in the field under discussion here, primarily jazz and improvised music.
Hamilton's previous essay in this form produced a very fine account of the life, work and wisdom of saxophonist Lee Konitz (2007), and Pianos, Toys, Music and Noise is equally successful. Hamilton is clearly a skilled interviewer. A musician himself, as well as teaching philosophy at the University of Durham, he has written about music for The Wire for some 30 years. However important such experience and skills may be, these would matter little were the subject less articulate, thoughtful and reflective than Beresford and what a remarkable, wide-ranging career he has to reflect upon.
The structure here is essentially chronological but this is interspersed with thematic chapters and digressions on questions of music education, film composition, other musicians, the history of free improvisation and differing approaches to it, humour and instrumentation. In relation to the last of these, the book's title comes into full view with Beresford's enlightening discussion of the use of toy pianos and other ‘noise-makers’ in improvised music.
It is impossible not to warm to the subject himself. He is generous in his comments towards other musicians, although honest about some of the fractious disputes and fallings out among certain characters on the scene. This is, after all, a relatively small (although global) musical field and, almost inevitably, the narcissism of small difference comes into the equation. Beresford's only real criticism, however, of another individual concerns a writer whom Beresford felt had behaved badly towards another musician. If there is a certain modesty in his discussion of his own abilities, neither is there a lack of confidence in his discussion of his own work. The key here is that, as with free improvisation in general, musical collaboration based on dialogue is fundamental. If questions of virtuosity or proficiency arise, they do so, primarily, in that context. The improvising musician is as good as their contributions to the success of the whole performance. Moreover, Beresford's generosity in this respect is well known in musical circles, as is his support and advocacy for others and the scene in general.
Having seen Beresford perform on several occasions, there is something of the silent comedian about his presence on the stand – a Chaplin or, better, a Monsieur Hulot, perhaps. Indeed, he has performed with Stewart Lee, who also provides the foreword to Pianos, Toys, Music and Noise, and with Vic Reeves. This side of his personality does not quite come across in these pages, although it is hard to read his enthusiastic comments on Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise, Bob Hope and others without smiling oneself. As noted, the Beresford on offer here is more reflective and more analytical, and his insights into the nature of free improvisation, its history and diversity serve to offer a primer for the field for any neophyte.
Yet the sheer breadth of Beresford's career discussed here is quite astonishing. That career has included stints with The Slits, an appearance on Top of the Pops with the Flying Lizards and work with reggae producer Adrian Sherwood and Prince Far-I, as well as just about everyone in free improvisation. He has also composed for films, produced records by other artists and taught improvisation at Westminster University for 22 years. Add to this his wide knowledge of music and catholic tastes and you have an ideal subject for a biography, one who is both informative and authoritative. His comments on Webern and John Cage are particularly perceptive, as are his remarks on dub and reggae. What emerges is both a picture of the artist en scène but also a kind of road map of how that connects with other musical environs.
If Pianos, Toys, Music and Noise has one slight shortcoming, it is the absence of a broader aesthetic, ethical or political dimension. Such issues are implicit throughout – and touched upon from time to time. Free improvisation raises questions about human creativity, free play, the part played by improvisation in our daily lives, collaborative action and the nature of art and of who gets to determine this. The community for this music is global but seems to coalesce in various places such as Café Oto in London and John Zorn's New York club, The Stone. The meaning of this music and its values is part of that commons and that, in turn, is extended through recordings beyond geography and locality. It is, arguably, at the point of an extended commons that aesthetic and political questions become highly pertinent. This is not to criticise but rather to suggest that a further chapter might be warranted in any second or even subsequent paperback edition.
Pianos, Toys, Music and Noise is a fascinating volume. At its best, it feels as if you are in the room with these two protagonists, sharing in knowledge and information that you simply could not have found anywhere else. Highly recommended.
