Before The Beatles, a jazz band led the Mersey sound. Now the Merseysippis are nearing their 60th anniversary still dedicated to the cause of jazz. David Charters reports

TOWARDS the end of a long and affectionate chinwag, the old boys, all friends in joyous mood, whose laughter rolled down each revived memory, began putting on their hats and coats – before pulling from their pockets a flush of bus passes, sharp as those Mississippi card-shufflers.

And why not. These cool cats blow sweet horns, pluck strings, slap skins and tap their feet for the Merseysippi, the oldest jazz band in Britain and the second oldest one in the world. It celebrates its 60th anniversary on Valentine’s Day.

Eventually, their prolonged departure reached the hokey-cokey stage, with everyone stepping back and forth to shake hands and discuss travel arrangements, while “young” Derek Vaux, 72, the double-bass player, was talking about the 750cc MV Augusta motorcycle which he still rides in hugging leathers.

From time to time, he confided with a conspiratorial wink, the girls give him admiring glances as he roars up the road and then he stops to take off his crash helmet and watch their mouths gape in amazement.

He saw a similar expression of disbelief in the eyes of a young motorbike cop, who had pulled him up for a severe wigging about breaking the speed limit.

You see, there is no keeping these chaps down, though Don Lydiatt, the 82-year-old, admits that it is harder to blow the clarinet while wearing dentures.

Actually, he has not been feeling tip-top over the past few days, but the lure of another meeting and what the modern types call a “photo-shoot” was very strong.

This is the spirit of the Merseysippi and it explains why they remain in demand.

The present line-up, in addition to Derek and Don, is Peter Fryer, 66, trombone; Frank Robinson, 83, piano, also the man who thought of their catchy name; John Higham, 73, trumpet; Peter Darwin, 67, drummer; and Dave Rigby, 66, banjo and guitar. Frank is the only original member

In late 1948, jazz was regarded as an “infernal racket” by most respectable suburban Britons, who starched their collars and pegged clothes on the washing line, keeping the smalls hidden from prying eyes.

But young men and women liked the free rhythms of the Americans. Some gathered at the Hotel Victoria, New Brighton, listening to jazz records.

A few of them could also play instruments.

They formed the Wallasey Rhythm Kings, a parochial name for followers of swing music from across the Atlantic.

Their debut was at the Grosvenor Ballroom, New Brighton, on February 14, 1949, billed as “Merseyside's First Jazz Band Ball”. Admission was three shillings (15p), refreshments could be purchased “at moderate prices” with dancing from 7.30pm to 11.30pm. The night resulted in a net profit of £2.08.

The line-up was Ken Baldwin (banjo), Frank Robinson (piano), Wally Fisher (trumpet), Dennis Gracey (trombone), Evan Patrick (clarinet), Dick Goodwin (bass) and Ken Metcalfe (drums). Don Lydiatt joined later that year.

Jazz became the music of those breaking from the years of post-war austerity and the band made musical history on January 18, 1957, when they opened a cellar club at 10, Mathew Street, Liverpool, called The Cavern. About 600 people packed in and an equal number were locked out. The Merseysippi were a big name, having played on the same bill as the great Louis Armstrong at Liverpool Stadium the previous year.

At first, The Cavern specialised in jazz bands and skiffle groups, playing up-tempo versions of American folk songs, but then came the beat groups. During the overlap period, the jazzmen and the rock and rollers, including The Beatles, drank in the same pubs – the former believing that they played superior music, though they recognised the growing popularity of their rivals.

From 1959 until 1964, the Merseysippi were residents at the far plusher Mardi Gras, Liverpool, which was spacious and clean with a huge stage. In truth, they didn’t really miss The Cavern with its evil-smelling lavatories, sweating walls and loud guitar groups.

Although they never turned full-time, the Merseysippi were much in demand – making records, appearing on radio, TV and festivals, including the Sacramento Jazz Festival, in California.

Fashions change, but they still have a Monday night slot at Liverpool Cricket Club, Aigburth, and appear at other local gigs, enjoying the support of Tony Davis, formerly the tall one in the Spinners folk group, also an enthusiastic jazzman, who has been campaigning for the Merseysippi to be given the Freedom of Liverpool.

Their part in establishing the city as the capital of Britain’s popular music cannot be denied.

“The only band I know of which is older is the Dutch Swing College Band, which formed after the war in 1945,” says Peter Fryer.

Over the years, the Merseysippi amassed a huge repertoire of jazz numbers, such as Muscrat Ramble and Hairy Blues, but the song most associated with them is Louis Armstrong’s Sweethearts on Parade, which they save to the end of their shows.

“We’re all great mates. The musicians in the band are among my best friends,” says Peter. “That’s what it is like, there is a great camaraderie.”

“You know, you were talking about relationships in the band,” says Derek. “Well, I remember John Lawrence (the cornet player who died in 2008) saying many years ago, ‘You are not invited to play in the Merseysippi because you are a good musician, it is because you are a good nut and socially acceptable’. That is very true.”

In 1999, the Merseysippi’s 50th anniversary, Ken Baldwin, the guitar and banjo player, who died in 2006, was asked the reason for the band’s longevity during a BBC TV tribute. “Having a few jars with the lads,” he replied.

“In addition to the cricket club, we probably do two or three gigs a month on average,” says Peter. “But we did at least three a week in our heyday,” says Don. “There was a month when we did 31 gigs in 30 days. That was in the mid-50s, before The Beatles.”

After the beat boom, jazz returned to its hardcore of devoted fans, but it has always been music for the young at heart, maybe with a tinge of rebellion in their souls – the “devil’s music”, as disapproving parents called it.

“I still feel young,” says Don. “At least I get out of bed each morning.”

“There is no doubt that music does keep you young. It keeps your brain busy,” adds Peter.

More than that, they are still learning. Frank Robinson freely admits that he is a better pianist now. “Listening to other people does that,” he says.

“I can’t agree,” says Don. “I had to have all my teeth out and it is harder to play with false ones, but I can still manage.”

And so the Merseysippi jazzmen blow into another night, keeping the spirit of jazz alive for another generation.

They will celebrate their 60th anniversary with a private gig for invited friends and guests at Liverpool Cricket Club on February 16 .

davidcharters