Jazz at The Hague

Last weekend I was at the North Sea Jazz Festival. This was my fourth visit, and it was the 30th outing for the Festival itself. Our party was bigger than last year and had a better gender balance: as well as Drew and Simon, and of course me, Aileen was also there, and so was my sister Sue. Tempted by my reports of earlier visits and after thinking it over for some while, she finally made it. We all had a great time.

Some of the highlights for me. A terrific McCoy Tyner set and likewise one by Barry Harris. If I'd seen either of these on an evening in Manchester, I would have counted it a brilliant evening. But for each of the three nights of the Festival, you're seeing four or five sets. McCoy Tyner was in thumping form; he passed, at times, on to that other plane where live music occasionally goes. The Barry Harris was a quieter affair, but full of accomplished playing, humour and individual humanity, with an interactive element that enraptured the audience: he had us helping to compose an original ('7-3-4, 7-3-5, 5-5-5-5-5-5...'), and then singing along to it, and he ended by singing a song himself, accompanied on piano by a guy from the audience who turned out to know exactly what he was doing.

Then there was the utter brilliance of Don Byron, who has to be seen to be believed, and who delivered a rendition of 'Body And Soul' that belongs with the very best; Cedar Walton and Benny Golson taking us through some great numbers ('Whisper Not', 'Along Came Betty', 'I Remember Clifford') from Jazz Messengers days; and John Zorn (with Dave Douglas and Joey Baron) playing music from his Masada Book.

That's just five sets. If I were to dump them and tell you what else I went to, you'd still be envious. As good, then, as all the other times I've been. And Sue, who was there on my recommendation, loved it. I think she may be hooked.

So, as I told you last time, you should have been there. But you weren't - or anyway, I didn't see you. Next year? The Festival moves, then, from The Hague to Rotterdam.