THE JOINTS IN LONDON ARE JUMPIN’

LONDON — No question about it: Jazz is on the upswing in this city. From every point of view--quality and quantity of local and imported talent, availability of venues, coverage in the media--conditions are more encouraging than at any time in recent memory.

When even the normally dour Ronnie Scott tells you he has had two good years, you know something must be going right. Scott’s club in the West End, where he leads his own group (he is a first-rate tenor saxophonist) and alternates with visiting dignitaries, was on the verge of collapse a few years ago; on the night of my visit, a Tuesday, the room was packed for the opening of Elvin Jones’ group.

That Jones had been booked for two weeks was astonishing in itself. Not a single club in Los Angeles hires groups of this kind for even one week. A four-night stand is a big deal in L.A. jazz circles. Scott later reported that the attendance held up throughout the week of my visit. Londoners are lucky in another respect: Jones’ formidable pianist, Fumio Karashima from Tokyo, has worked with him on and off for five years, but almost exclusively in Europe and Japan. Another bonus was the addition of Alan Skidmore, a British saxophone eminence who for this gig was paired of with the group’s regular tenor soloist, Sonny Fortune.

Scott, a professional musician for almost 40 years and a club owner since 1959, is now a world-class figure on both levels, but where once he had a near-monopoly as a boniface, today’s booming scene leaves room for countless other restorative listening experiences.

On any given night, in the city or the suburbs, you may find live jazz at such spots as the 606 Club (“Jazz Trios 7 Nights a Week From 12 Midnight”), Palookaville, Thatcher’s (no relation), the Duke of St. Alban’s, the Prince of Orange (host one night last week to the Odessa College big band from Texas), the Ealing Broadway Centre, the Bass Clef, the Bull’s Head, and no less than seven taverns, clubs or theater bars that offer Sunday lunchtime jazz.

It has become a common practice to bring over American jazzmen for dates around London and the provinces backed by British groups. Wild Bill Davison, the 80-year-old cornetist, presently is making the rounds on that basis. Lanny Morgan, an L.A. alto saxophonist, is using the Bull’s Head, a pub in Barnes, as a pied-a-terre , working there off and on throughout April with side trips to the Pizza Express and various out-of-town havens.

Jazz instruction is making belated headway here. American trumpeter Bobby Shew offered an improvisation seminar Saturday at the Guildhall School of Music, presented by the Jazz Education Society. The next day he was at the 100 Club, one of London’s oldest jazz joints, backed by the English Sound of 17 orchestra.

Possibly the most remarkable figure on the London scene is the protean Peter Ind. Middlesex-born, he became an accomplished bassist, immigrated to the United States in 1951 and studied with Lennie Tristano. After a decade in New York, playing with everyone from Tristano and Lee Konitz to Coleman Hawkins and Roy Eldridge, he moved to Big Sur for three years, wrote a book based on the theories of Wilhelm Reich, expanded his talent for painting and had an exhibition in Monterey.

Since returning to London in 1966, Ind has still further multiplied his activities. Taking over an old warehouse in the less than salubrious district of Hoxton, he converted part of it into a 24-track recording studio that now caters to many major companies as well as to his own Wave Records label. On the other side of the building is his club, the Bass Clef.

Ind is bullish on jazz in Britain. “All sorts of things are happening here,” he said. “We can present just about any kind of music, and there’s an audience for everything. What’s amazing is the wave of nostalgia for the 1950s and early ‘60s, the pre-Beatles era. And look at the kind of crowd we get.”

Most of the spectators were in their 20s and 30s; they were also unusually attentive, a situation Ind has helped by keeping the dining room separate from the music area. The seven-man band played neatly tailored arrangements of original works by British writers (Alan Ganley, Jimmy Deuchar) and American standards such as J.J. Johnson’s “Blue Nun.” The trumpeter, Henry Lowther, displayed a lyrical sound in Horace Silver’s “Peace.”

“We have live music seven nights a week,” Ind said. “Fridays, there’s a Latin dance session that’s always mobbed. Saturdays, we have African-oriented music. Sundays are big jazz matinee days. We opened in September, 1984, and we’re beginning to break even.”

At the Pizza Express, off Oxford Street, where the munching of pizza cohabits with the music, owner Peter Boizot (who also publishes the monthly Jazz Express) has established a policy typical of that heard at most London clubs, with talent changing nightly, and the occasional American visitor (the ex-Ellington trumpeter Willie Cook is due here next week).

The night of my visit was one of two a week dedicated to the Pizza Express All Stars. I was reminded of the problems that face L.A. club owners: Of the seven regular members, four had sent in subs. The sounds were a healthy mix of Dixie and mainstream, with Colin Smith playing elegant trumpet and Dave Shepherd heading up the band on clarinet.

My last night in town was reserved for a visit to the 100 Club, at 100 Oxford Street, where Stephane Grappelli had been booked for a one-night stand. The stifling, cavernous room was packed to what seemed to be four times its natural capacity; 200 or 300 fans, standing, were crammed in the rear.

Grappelli, leading his regular quartet, took it in stride and managed to make himself heard amid the hubbub. Having been familiar with his music, I found myself wishing that I had arrived a week later, to hear some less crowd-catching and more unfamiliar attractions such as the British band led by pianist Stan Tracey.

One big band that did reach my ears, albeit on a tape, was Loose Tubes. This adventurous 21-piece ensemble is the subject of a feature in the current issue of the Wire, a slick new magazine that deals with every facet of the domestic and overseas jazz scenes.

As the tape revealed, Loose Tubes is just what the Wire calls it, the most exciting new event in British jazz. The arrangements, by Django Bates (his real name) and Steve Berry, make original use of many-colored textures and voicings.

A potentially valuable new development is the emergence of a black British jazz community. Courtney Pine, a 21-year-old saxophonist, the son of Jamaican parents, was raised in London’s Paddington district. He has been active lately in forming the Abibi Jazz Arts Society, devoted to “making black people more aware of jazz and giving it a firm base.” He has formed a 21-piece band, the Jazz Warriors, and through it may prove his claim that a black British jazz style may be emerging, “because a lot of guys getting into it here come from the reggae thing or the calypso thing, which is very different from what the New York musicians have to offer.”

Black or white, traditional or contemporary, the music here seems to be in healthy and enthusiastic hands. Media coverage is better than ever. Jazz Journal, a popular monthly, still is going strong after 40 years. Ronnie Scott publishes a small but lively house organ. Radio personalities such as Peter Clayton offer informative music and interview shows.

Time was, in the pre-George Shearing days, when you could count the truly creative British jazz performers on the good fingers of Django Reinhardt’s left hand. This is not to imply that hundreds of jazz artists here are growing rich and famous, but rather to establish the point that their aims and accomplishments are far beyond anything I dreamed possible as a teen-aged fan growing up in London.