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Published: Wednesday, 14 August 2024 at 15:01 PM


When I think of Dave Brubeck, the first image that comes to mind is not that of a jazz institution laden with honours, the grand old man of modernism who led the most popular jazz group of the 1950s, or the patron saint of legions of buskers belting out ‘Take Five’.

Instead, I think of London’s Royal Festival Hall in 1992, where the pianist had just finished a rapturously received concert that almost didn’t happen. Two days before, he’d had to cancel a Glasgow concert when his heart began fibrillating, requiring hospital treatment and putting the London event in doubt, as well as cancelling our Radio 3 interview.

An unselfconscious American trailblazer

But Brubeck insisted on going ahead, with his doctor and wife sitting apprehensively in the front row. After the applause had finally stopped, I followed Brubeck’s rangy, white-haired figure through the backstage labyrinth of the Festival Hall to where his wife and team were waiting. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I made it.’

Jazz pianist Dave Brubeck in New York, 2009. Pic: Getty Images – Getty Images

For me, that phrase captures the essential Brubeck spirit – committed to his art and to performance, determined to express the music he felt whatever the circumstances, an unselfconscious trailblazer in the American grain who did what he had to to get where he was going. 

But his path was never easy. Brubeck’s parents seemed a spectacular misalliance, his father the manager of one of the biggest cattle ranches in northern California, a rodeo champion and man’s man whom Brubeck adored. In total contrast, his mother was a piano teacher who’d studied with Myra Hess in London and hoped for a solo career.

Jazz gigs and cattle herding

Brubeck grew up surrounded by the classical repertoire she played with her pupils, though he utterly resisted her attempts to teach him. But he obviously had talent, playing by ear in his own way and picking up the jazz music he heard on the radio. By the time he was 14, he was good enough to be offered jobs at local dance halls, though that often meant coming home from a gig at four in the morning to get straight on a horse and help his father herd cattle. 

To the young Brubeck, that seemed an ideal life, which was ruined by his mother’s insistence that he go to college. As Brubeck once summed up his view of academe to me, ‘I hated school with a vengeance.’ His father didn’t want him to go either, but a compromise was reached whereby Brubeck would study veterinary science, which could help on the ranch. But in the event Brubeck proved totally unsuited to the sciences, devoting all his attention to the sounds coming from the nearby music school, which is where the exasperated science faculty finally suggested he should go.