CityLife

Interview: Mike Walker from The Impossible Gentlemen

The Impossible Gentlemen. From right to left Gwilym Simcock, Mike Walker, Adam Nussbaum, Steve Swallow. Photo Credit: David Forman

Bridgewater Hall - Tuesday.

Everyone likes to have a claim in success. That’s why, for jazz lovers in the north west, Mike Walker is a Manchester guitar hero. On a national level, he’s a UK guitar hero, and, taking a global perspective, he’s an international guitar hero.

All agree that Salford-born Walker is a world-class player. His riffs are as direct and as satisfyingly crunchy as the best rock, but his solos are sharply articulated, with a rich harmonic sophistication and a loose affiliation to funk. In fact, he is a guitar-hero to everyone but himself.

“I don’t go out of my way not to take on that mantle,” he says, with a nice double negative, “but I definitely don’t walk towards it.

“Some people have said, oh Mike is hit and miss. They’ve seen me as a sideman playing music that requires little in terms of ‘guitar hero’ solos. It’s a great art to support other musicians.

“You say, what does this music need? Very often the answer is not a 15-minute guitar solo.”

This selfless attitude partly explains why Walker is first-choice guitarist for such luminaries as Mike Gibbs (he replaced John Scofield, his US counterpart, in the Mike Gibbs Big Band), George Russell, Julian Arguelles and Kenny Wheeler.

Now, with The Impossible Gentlemen, Walker has found a supergroup to match his immense talent.

Last year, they played in Europe as Simcock/Walker/Swallow/Nussbaum but settled on a name when it became clear that the group was more than the sum of its parts.

The Simcock is Gwilym, a pianist with a highly developed sense of rhythm and harmony. “He obviously has the classical thing,” says Walker, “but Gwilym’s got a lot of groove stuff in him, like Earth, Wind And Fire, and James Brown.”

The Swallow is Steve, a bassist known for long service with Carla Bley.

He is also – and this is where he fits with the Walker aesthetic – one of the most fluently funky bassists of all time, with a fat tone and meticulous timing.

Adam Nussbaum is Swallow’s regular rhythm partner in the Mike Gibbs Big Band.

Walker recruited the drummer for Ropes, a piece for quintet and orchestra  commissioned by Manchester Jazz Festival in 2008.

“He proved to be a fantastic choice, if I say so myself,” says Walker. “And then I got the idea to put them together, because each of these individuals has a way of playing that I have a kinship with.”

The common element is the elevatory power of the groove. The Impossible Gentlemen (the eponymous album on Basho Records) opens with two pieces that highlight different sides of Mike Walker: the swaggering Laugh Lines, with its intricate lines in unison, powered by Nussbaum, and the richly lyrical Clockmaker, enhanced by Simcock’s rippling piano.

The group has plainly inspired Walker’s best writing, even if Clockmaker is an old tune.

“Yeah, Clockmaker’s been around for a while. I knew the piece would work really well with that band.”
 
Yet The Impossible Gentlemen also excel at pieces that are elegant and full of feeling.

Never abstract or technical, Walker conceives of music in a strangely narrative way.

The emotion behind When You Hold Her is too raw to put into words: Walker’s vulnerable and anguished guitar says it all.

Wallenda’s Last Stand, however, is easier to discuss.

“Karl Wallenda was a tightrope walker known for walking long distances,” explains Walker.

“His last walk was in Buenos Aires. He was going to retire after that. He was 73. Unfortunately, a side wind came, and it turned out to be his last walk.
“I have the whole scene in mind. I have him and the rope. And I have him walking over, and I have the sidewind coming, and I have him floating down. And he’s smiling.”

The comparison between tightrope daredevils and fearless jazz musicians seems obvious.

“When I’m improvising, I don’t have any idea where I’m going to end up. Partly, it depends on how the other guys react. That danger keeps it alive for me.”
Perhaps the move from guitar hero to composer – signalled by Walker’s debut as a leader, Madhouse And The Whole Thing There, from 2008 – is simply a sign of maturity (“I’m 48, and I’ve been hammering at this door for quite some time”).

With age and with luck, the emotional range of an artist grows in proportion to technical ability. Is it necessary to grow as a human being as well as a musician?

Walker considers deeply. “I’ve never had a problem tapping into my emotional side. There’s been too much emotion in some ways.

“Before, I was trying too hard. People responded to the emotion because it was abandoned, like some sort of wild child. But sometimes you wished that the wild child could take more notice of its surroundings.

“Sometimes you wished that it could express itself in a more graceful way.

“It’s more symbiotic now: emotion and technique come together. ” 

The Impossible Gentlemen play Bridgewater Hall on Tuesday.