Heart of Noise

This article published in The Times last year made for difficult reading. Columnist, Sathnam Sanghera, argued that different cultures and ethnic minorities in Brixton don’t ‘integrate’, and rather just ‘co-exist’. He describes a Brixton where the White-British community shop at Tescos and the Afro-Caribbean community shop at the market. Apparently it’s the White kids who go to gigs at the Academy while the Black kids hang out at McDonalds.

First of all, these are easy generalisations to make, but are simply inaccurate. Tescos has huge Caribbean and Asian food sections, presumably to cater for its customers and as far as I can see, McDonalds’ golden arches reign supreme to its Black, Asian, White and hijab-wearing customers. Most bars, cafes and shops in Brixton serve local people from a range of ethnicities and different cultures, and the people behind the counter are from similarly mixed backgrounds. But it’s class rather than colour that determines who gets their dinner from the Italian delhi and who stops of at the fried chicken takeaway at the end of the day.

Inevitably, there are going to some places where people from similar backgrounds are going to be in the majority. There seems to be about ten hairdressers in Brixton for every other shop and most of them are run by and cater for, women of colour. Similarly drinking spots are as much about the age of the clientele and the music that’s played. It’s no surprise that young professionals (and newspaper columnists) on a good income who work in central London frequent Brixton’s more expensive bars and aren’t as likely to drink in the same places as the locals. (This post from last year is a response to the Times article if you want to read more).

But if there’s one pub that seems to cater for all of Brixton’s diverse community, it’s the Effra Hall Tavern, tucked away on a corner of Kellett Road  Any night of the week, you’ll be drinking with people of varying ages and ethnic backgrounds; men and women. And most nights, if they’re not going to see the football, they’re going to see the jazz.

The Sunday night jamm session, hosted by the larger than life Lauren Dalrymple has been an Effra Hall institution for the past 11 years. The instrumentalists are tucked away in a back corner in the midst of various football matches shown on no less than three screens. But its clear from the word go that this is the main event. The only nod to Valentines Day last Sunday was the attire of the Effra’s long-time hat-wearing local who was decked out in a red shirt embellished with gold heart locket, and a red bowler hat.

The first song given to the instrumental trio was perfectly balanced between keys and double bass, while the drummer (afraid I didn’t get his name) created a full spectrum of colour and shade, using every inch of his kit. But it is Lauren herself who rules the roost when she comes in, with her part soul and almost Gospel influenced singing and arrangements. Best known for working with pianist Alex Wilson and Afro Cuban All Stars, Lauren’s voice blends when it needs to but she is definitely born to be a soloist and her vivacious, bubbly personality shines through her singing as much as her pre-song patter. It seems like such a small setting for such a big voice, but Ms Dalrymple knows when to be restrained and has amazing control over every last vibrato inflection. I’ve also never seen a female jazz singer come out with some old-school skat singing and it’s amazing to hear her improvised solos decorate the tune.

The majority of the people here don’t just happen upon the music in their quest for a pint, but are diehard regulars. In fact last Sunday night, a fight almost broke out between one elderly gent and two younger men who turned up as the band were setting up and wanted to squeeze up next to him on a bench. They were told firmly, and through gritted teeth, that they should’ve got here earlier if they wanted to see the jazz and had to make do with some stools in the middle of the floor.

The Effra attracts an eclectic, and often eccentric, bunch of people, united in their love of good live music. Jazz has begun to be seen as one of the more elitist music genres, probably because you really need to know your stuff to have any hope in a jamm. But in this corner of south London, it’s something that unifies, rather than segregates all of the local music lovers.