SAMMY MAYNE: SAMMY SIDE UP

Authenticity. Articulacy. Presence. Gravitas. Perfectly assimilated language. Technical assurance. Taste. Soul. Style. Swing. Goodness knows you could fill a whole sleeve note with enthusiastic adjectives about alto saxophonist Sammy Mayne’s playing. The fact there’s a sleeve note at all means there is a record under Sammy’s own name, at long last, the whole enterprise (masterminded by drummer/label boss Pete Cater) arguably British Jazz’s Most Overdue Album Release. Part of this oversight is due to the odd way in which the jazz record business works – the blinding dazzle of new ‘stars’ can obscure the truly deserving – part of it is down to Sammy’s character, that of a modest master musician who has spent the best part of his lengthy and high-flying career making others sound good. If you’ve heard Sammy live in a big band setting you’ll know of him as a peerless lead alto, taking saxophone sections through all sorts of musical murmarations in his quietly authoritative way. If you don’t know him as a soloist then this recording will introduce you to a truly world class jazz saxophone improviser.

Space precludes a deep dive into Sammy’s backstory, but suffice it so say for many years now the word among those in the know has been that his soloist’s gifts are equal to the finest of his indigenous predecessors, a litany including big hitters such as the late Peter King. This recording, in a highly stimulating and somewhat novel format for Sammy, is proof positive of this statement. Take one of his solo’s – any solo, in fact - and you’ll hear music coming right from a true jazzman’s heart. And not just when he creates; the way Sammy essays a written theme has idiomatic surety running through it like letters in a stick of rock. Hear ‘Blue Gardenia’ (one of the many recherché song choices that add to this album’s delight), the insouciant swagger of which tells you exactly what’s to come.

Sammy’s colleagues here are hand-in-glove; guitarist Sam Dunn, another ‘best kept secret’ kind of player, is taste personified, never once overplaying his considerably talented hands. Likewise organist Pete Whittaker, himself a veritable one man rhythm section, who gives an instrument which in lesser performer’s charge can bolt off like a riderless horse an air of calm control, so calm at times that you can forget the sound he’s making comes from a blur of four limbs not just two. Then there’s Pete Cater, a player whose eminence as a big band drummer has led some to underappreciate his equally impressive small band jazz chops. Here, he’s right on song throughout. And those fearing that the ‘drummer as producer’ duality might lead to an excess of drumnastics take note; Pete plays only a single improvisation, one all the more loaded with meaning for coming where you might least expect it.

And so here’s Sammy Mayne, on his own record date at long last; an alto saxophonist at once powerful, passionate and perfect.

That’s three more adjectives for you, right there.

Simon Spillett

October 2025