The first two days were given over to a pairing with classical guitarist John Williams, drawing upon the eclectic repertoire featured on their album Places Between. Etheridge played jazz and blues standards, including Lullaby of Birdland and Stormy Weather, and Williams played exquisite classical vignet! tes: El Totumo, from Venezuela, and a Satie-like adaptation of an untitled tune by a friend.
The duo pieces made the most of their contrasting approaches: in Monti's Casino, it was fascinating to hear how well Williams's straighter, crisper parts meshed with Etheridge's natural swing. Malinke Guitars, Williams's adaptation of three Malian tunes, had a churning groove that refracted the African motifs into something resembling Spanish-tinged minimalism. Williams is that rare thing, a "serious" musician who delights in playing within non-classical contexts without compromising his roots. They concluded with Djanjon, a west African piece that, in Williams's words, has "no beginning, no end, it just is . . . we just start somewhere and end it somewhere else". Etheridge said with a grin: "That's a bit deep!"
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Etheridge’s gentle cross-rhythms imbued them with genuine dignity. Few of his peers handle an electric instrument with such delicacy. He combines a jazzman’s sophistication with a folksy sense of drama. While Pat Metheny may have more harmonic colour in his palette, the Englishman’s penchant for simple, unaffected melodic lines makes him ideal company in a venue as intimate as this.
The lilting, circular phrases in the opening sequence found him paying homage to his fellow guitarist the late Francis Bebey, a dominant figure in modern Cameroonian music. Even without the help of a percussion section, Etheridge had no difficulty at all in generating a seductive dance pulse. In more reflective vein, he sketched serene lines across Richard Thompson’s The Dimming of the Day, and the programme took a more orthodox, boppish turn with a medium-tempo version of Sonny Rollins’s Doxy, underpinned by a sultry walking bass line.
An eagerly awaited series of acoustic duets with John Williams did not disappoint, unless anyone was expecting virtuoso one-upmanship. Instead the two players — who had previously joined forces on Williams’s album The Magic Box — settled into a restful waltz from Cape Verde. Later, a performance of traditional griot songs — originally written for the kora — demonstrated just how much the pair could glean from the starkest of chords.

After a reunion with members of Soft Machine, Etheridge will be in introspective mood again at the end of his season on Sunday when he teams up with that superb violinist Christian Garrick.
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He started the week with a guest who certainly merited that billing, the classical guitarist John Williams. The contrasts between the two were many. Williams, quietly spoken, produced notes from his classical guitar that were oboe-like in sweetness and intensity. Etheridge was supremely laid-back, calling out to the audience for a file after he broke a nail, and cracking jokes about his sartorial deficiencies. But there was nothing lacking in his playing, in which his soaring improvisations were the perfect foil to Williams's more formal technique.
Both played solo numbers, Etheridge dipping into the standards with "God Bless the Child" and Sonny Rollins's "Doxy" and Williams demonstrating his mastery of the Latin American classical canon. Music from Mali and Senegal flowed from their fingers when they joined each other, but in their own compositions, the combination moved to another level.
Etheridge, who swapped between acoustic and electric guitars, laid down a series of arpeggios to introduce his "Strange Comforts", a tune that nicely unsettled the ear with its chord changes, and then let Williams take over harmonic duties, allowing him to solo more freely. They ended with a tour-de-force arrangement by Williams that pointed to the heights these two are likely to scale the longer they perform together; this was the first time they have paired up.
Now called "Extra Time", the number was originally titled "8-4-7" in reference to the first three chords in Bach's C Minor Prelude. The two guitarists worked their way through the prelude's form, gradually developing it into their own. The last quarter, where bass notes anchor what I've always thought of as a recitative section (what jazzmen might call "the stops"), became a series of mini-cadenzas for Etheridge, before both, remaining true to Bach, brought it crashing to its magnificent conclusion. The pair moved on, first to a lyrical passage, and then to a long ostinato section that mesmerised the listener as the two wound the tension ever higher.
No encore could quite follow such a finale. Anyway, as Williams explained, they had no more material: "That really is all we know," he apologised. They'll have more ready in time for a forthcoming US tour.
John Etheridge's week-long residency at Pizza Express promised "exceptionally special guests" from the guitarist's extraordinarily varied career.
He started the week with a guest who certainly merited that billing, the classical guitarist John Williams. The contrasts between the two were many. Williams, quietly spoken, produced notes from his classical guitar that were oboe-like in sweetness and intensity. Etheridge was supremely laid-back, calling out to the audience for a file after he broke a nail, and cracking jokes about his sartorial deficiencies. But there was nothing lacking in his playing, in which his soaring improvisations were the perfect foil to Williams's more formal technique.
Both played solo numbers, Etheridge dipping into the standards with "God Bless the Child" and Sonny Rollins's "Doxy" and Williams demonstrating his mastery of the Latin American classical canon. Music from Mali and Senegal flowed from their fingers when they joined each other, but in their own compositions, the combination moved to another level.
Etheridge, who swapped between acoustic and electric guitars, laid down a series of arpeggios to introduce his "Strange Comforts", a tune that nicely unsettled the ear with its chord changes, and then let Williams take over harmonic duties, allowing him to solo more freely. They ended with a tour-de-force arrangement by Williams that pointed to the heights these two are likely to scale the longer they perform together; this was the first time they have paired up.
Now called "Extra Time", the number was originally titled "8-4-7" in reference to the first three chords in Bach's C Minor Prelude. The two guitarists worked their way through the prelude's form, gradually developing it into their own. The last quarter, where bass notes anchor what I've always thought of as a recitative section (what jazzmen might call "the stops"), became a series of mini-cadenzas for Etheridge, before both, remaining true to Bach, brought it crashing to its magnificent conclusion. The pair moved on, first to a lyrical passage, and then to a long ostinato section that mesmerised the listener as the two wound the tension ever higher.
No encore could quite follow such a finale. Anyway, as Williams explained, they had no more material: "That really is all we know," he apologised. They'll have more ready in time for a forthcoming US tour.
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On these strictly jazz interpretations he plays semi-acoustic guitar mainly but also a semi-bass, with lowered bass strings and fretless guitar for some introductions; there are very few overdubs. Etheridge plays strong, straight ahead, jazz on these pieces producing a big, full sound that makes it seem that there is more than one musician present throughout. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy works very well with a strong bass line accompaniment as he digs into the blues and improvises effectively on the Zawinul song made famous by Cannonball Adderley. On every selection here Etheridge makes a strong impression as both a blues based jazz guitarist and also as a soloist who can fill out bass and harmony parts without need of a rhythm accompaniment. God Bless the Child is sumptuously sculptured for solo guitar, the lines played recalling the best of versions by Billie Holiday and Sonny Rollins with Jim Hall.
And yet Etheridge's blues tinged sound is uniquely his own, very full, very expressive and creating his own, personal jazz environment. His reading of the hackneyed My Romance is unlike any other jazz version I've heard and there have been a few! Mr. E has found his best method of self expression and should nurture and continue it. Meantime we have this comprehensive CD of his solo skills.
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But it was the English veteran's own music which came under the spotlight on Thursday, as he reached the half-way point of an impressive seven-night stand at Soho's other ~jazz venue the increasingly popular Pizza Express. A gifted, but underrated composer, Etheridge has an ear for a tune that is matched by an abiding reluctance to state the obvious. On 'Stitched Up', a swift sortie with a mutant ragtime feel, his fingers dashed across the fretboard with a light, nimble feel. He prefaced 'Distant Voice' with the gentlest of finger-picked arpeggios before engaging in a gospel-tinged dialogue with Steve Lodder, who prodded away at an organ-sounding keyboard placed atop the venue's grand piano. And towards the end of 'Chips' a clunky, stuttering jazz-funk groove, Etheridge kicked a floor pedal and exploded into the sort of unruly fret-melting action which still lends this sort of music a mildly disreputable frisson.
Drummer John Marshall (also an alumni of Soft Machine) and double bass player Jeff Clyne laid the rhythmic foundations with the poker-faced air of the hardened professionals that they are. But Etheridge played the role of front man and host with a genial, self deprecating manner that belied the thoughtful intensity of the performance itself. Having broken a string during a particularly ferocious bout of soloing in Miles Davis's 'All Blues', he maintained a wry running commentary while replacing it and re tuning his guitar - "You put on one new string, and the others all start sulking".
The merriment among the crowd between numbers was balanced by the respectful hush which prevailed once the band resumed playing, and nevermore so than during a sensational reading of the title track of Etheridge's 1993 album 'Ash'. After a very last but silky-soft introduction, the number took off on a series of unexpected twists and turns that showed off the quartets exceptional gift for improvising as a unit to spectacular effect. As the number returned to its original theme by a route so circuitous that the musicians themselves seemed surprised to have discovered it, even the imperturbable Marshall cracked a smile.
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Any rough edges are planed off, and the aim is to dazzle the audience with technical brilliance immaculately showcased.
Such an approach would not sit well with the wide ranging musical interests of John Etheridge, a veteran of such diverse environments as the Stephane Grappelli Quintet on the one hand, and Soft Machine on the other, whose current bands include everything from an acoustic quartet to an extrovert Frank Zappa tribute package.
Etheridge's playing is no less technically brilliant than those other players, but he adds a harder edge to his music, and he is prepared to take greater risks in order to aim for more excitement and rhythmic variety.
Playing a solo evening at the Dean Street jazz room to launch his new album 'I Didn't Know', Etheridge proved from the outset that he can keep all the grit and excitement of his band-playing intact, even with in a solo contexL. His striking melodic lines and deftly shifting chords jumped out of the opening 'Little Willie Leaps', which set a high standard for the evening.
Maybe it's because he is right in the middle of a short national tour with the classical guitarist John Williams, exploring music from Africa that Etheridge's two African numbers were the most memorable.
'Guitar Makossa' by Francis Bebey caught the gentle rolling rhythms of African dance music, with a joyous township melody superimposed on top, and an anonymous Madagascan piece developed the mood with a particularly hypnotic bass line.
But when it came to bass lines Etheridge was on inventive form instrumentally, having added bass guitar strings to the lower end of his Fender Telecaster, giving a huge depth to his sound, and allowing him to give the impression on 'Lullaby of Birdland' that an invisible bassist was accompanying him.
There were more surprises, too, notably a fretless Guild guitar that ushered in the title track of the new album with a twangy, plangent tone, and a Yamaha electric beast that gave a fair impression of Jimi Hendrix in his pomp.
When someone requested Happy Birthday, they probably weren't expecting a Hendrix style rendition, complete with a wall of psychedelic noise that was the very antithesis of the suave nightclub solo guitarist.
On this form, I recommend catching Etheridge when he returns to the club for a week in August
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The London-born guitarist gave himself the taxing task of a solo show aided by nothing more than a choice of instruments and a little technology to launch his new album, 'I Didn't Know'.
Etheridge has an immense breadth of musical interests. This has allowed him to work with the pioneering British crossover band Soft Machine, with the violin virtuoso Stephane Grappelli, as the core of the highly creative Frank Zappa tribute band, Zappatistas, and sometimes with the classical guitarist John Williams.
Etheridge, in jazz guitar mode, opened with Charlie Parker and then a subtle account of Charles Mingus's Goodbye Pork Pie Hat. Then he relaxed into the Cameroonian groover Guitar Makossa (duetting with his own sampled rhythm part) and a sensuous Madagascan dance tune that sounded at times like a 1950s rock ballad.
He then explored a tone-poem of long echoing sounds and spacey effects, eased into a melody that wandered between 'Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child' and 'Summertime', before becoming 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' - the latter a gem of choir-like sound effects, busy low counterpoint and rich chords.
A stomping bassline under 'Lullaby of Birdland' drove a sharp, high-register improvisation, and a churning, Hendrix-like account of 'Happy Birthday' for an audience member rocketed off into a whirlwind of abstract sound, then a brief boogie, a clamour of bell-like sounds, and an abrupt dead halt. A master-of-all-genres guitarist at work, even if he does his best to hide it.
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He's been there, done that so many times during his career that he even dug out one of the T-shirts for the show.
Armed only with five guitars, from a Fender to a fretless, and a suitcase-sized amp, he fearlessly set about masterfully deconstructing an eclectic range of songs. A dazzling look-at-me introduction acted as calling card and CV, saying everything you needed to know about John Etheridge - here was a master guitarist at work.
Cognisant of many styles and able to dip in and out at will, Etheridge avoided nailing all his colours to one stylistic mast alone. From Charlie Parker's 'Now's the Time' to 'My Romance', a standard associated with pianist Bill Evans, to Charlie Mingus's 'Goodbye Pork Pie Hat,' he made them all his own.
Even the spiritual 'Swing Low' took on a new glow, but unlike the English rugby team you knew the wheels were never going to come off Etheridge's chariot. A player capable of creating the elegant and the profound, he settled for the former, even on a spontaneous piece of rock impressionism of a sleepless night.
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The material ranges from an Arican groove like 'Guitar Makossa' to Billie Holiday's 'God Bless The Child', from John Scofield's 'I'll Take Les' to Charlie Parker's 'Now's The Time', and from Jerome Kern's 'Can't Help Lovin Dat Man' to the traditional Swing of 'Low Sweet Chariott'. On the Scofield tune he plays both lead lines and bass by lowerng some of the strings on his Fender Telecaster.
While this disc may give other guitarists reason to weep, the rest of us can luxuriate in the outstanding musicianship and more importantly, the emotional warmth that Etheridge brings to anything he plays. Technical brilliance but never for its own sake, always in the service of the music. And even more brilliant for it.
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