John McLaughlin & The 4th Dimension. Liverpool Philharmonic, 10 May 2010

I’m not a paid-up member of the jazz cognoscenti club; unaware of the modals, keys, arpeggio, chords and whatever. I’m a music fan not a technocrat, and love all great music, whatever the genre. Frankly, I don’t give a monkey’s for influences when I’m listening; it’s what I hear and see that matters most. To me all great music is simply great music, it just often happens to speak different dialects. And for the last fifteen years John McLaughlin has been speaking my language. My first listen arrived back in ‘85 when I picked up a hi-fi magazine that happened to feature a selection of its top 50 audio critics’ albums, chosen for sound quality first, music content second. On that list was FRIDAY NIGHT IN SAN FRANCISCO and ROYAL FESTIVAL HALL LIVE which I ended up acquiring, along with the other 48. As they say, ‘they blew me away’, and I played them for months on end, eventually acquiring vinyl copies, and a further limited edition multi-bit/remastered version of the FRIDAY NIGHT CD.

My first jazz recording was Dave Brubeck’s classic followed many years later by The Modern Jazz Quartet’s LONELY WOMAN. But it was FRIDAY NIGHT that had me listening and collecting - and Mr McLaughlin tends to lead you to just about every corner of the musical world, down alleys one didn’t know existed. From there I travelled to Cobham, Eubanks, Jarrett, Hubbard, Gurtu, Hussain, Corea, Mehldau, Jessica Williams, Patricia Barber, Blum et al, East and West, and then back in time to Hancock, Shorter, Blakey, Mobley, Tyner, Davis and Coltrane.

So, he’s led me a merry dance, and on a long, fascinating voyage of musical discovery. It was the journey that led me to drummer Mark Mondesir playing at a small club in Leeds with Vaughan Hawthorne-Nelson. It was a momentous occasion for us both. Mark had suffered a debilitating stutter since childhood, that had no doubt hampered his career, but by the time he hit Leeds that night he had undertaken a course of therapy that had made a dramatic, positive difference. I was able to interview him, an interview that he also recorded as part of his therapy. He is one of the finest drummers I have ever heard, and certainly amongst the world’s top five in my book.

Ultimately, music must involve and move me, and it’s here that JM hits the target, time after time. Melody is also important to me but in more recent times rhythm has started to gain ground. JM’s latest group incarnation, The 4th Dimension, and the new album TO THE ONE resemble a 4-star Michelin meal, without the price tag, and is arguably one of the greatest jazz albums released in recent years (alongside John Blum’s free-styling EYE BEGAT EYE). With JM is Mark Mondesir on drums, Gary Husband on keys and percussion, with Etienne M’Bappe on bass guitar - THIS IS WHAT YOU CALL A SUPER-GROUP! And on Monday night Liverpool was blessed with their presence at the Liverpool Philharmonic, with little old me close to the stage listening while looking through a lens for decent shots, surrounded by an expectant, excited sell-out audience.

My first surprise at this wonderful venue was the appearance on stage of two massive drum kits. Even one of them would have foxed me because the last time I saw Mark his kit was so small you could have fitted it into a matchbox. The lights dimmed and on strolled the tall, grey-haired, elegant and unmistakable figure of JM with his current weapon-of-choice Godin, and Marc who, some nine years later, still looking like a college freshman. There was one other surprise - Etienne was wearing gloves!

I didn’t recognise the first song but gathered that it was an early 60s piece, but who cares about song titles when music is this good… The next song I did recognise. It was ‘The Fine Line’ from the new album with Mark and JM leading the charge, and making it all look so effortless. Gary impressed with his lightening key licks before he mounted the other drum platform to add another rhythmic dimension. JM and Mark fascinated me in that it seemed that their instruments were natural extensions of their bodies - everything seemed so easy and natural - and the results devastating. The last time I saw JM was in ‘97 at a Remember Shakti concert in London’s Barbican Centre, when he was seated on the floor surrounded by the most wonderful Indian musicians (including another of my heroes, tabla master Zakir Hussain) and keying into the essential rhythms - something I will never forget. This was very different but in another way the same. JM interacted with his fellow musicians with flicks of his hand, glanced smiles and often just watching in admiration at what was happening around him. It was a joy to witness this level of unity, interaction, and yes, love.