To start, very briefly, on a personal note. I went to an Arts Lab "Jazz Evening" in Birmingham in the autumn 1974, wholly on spec; and caught Derek Bailey solo, plus the Evan Parker/Paul Lytton duo. Both wholly altered how I listened, and permanently so. I remember particularly Lytton's amplified drum-kit - including a whole, contact-miked, bicycle. It is worth stressing the astonishing effect of this material at the time. This was I think the first music I met with a seemingly explicit implicit politics (can't put it clearer). It suggested the ludicrousness of heirarchies, the necessity of collaboration, the fatuity of enforced formal models. It foregrounded the liminal, the between, could give noise parity with pitch. If I (or anyone) could *write like this music plays...! Thirty years and more on, it was sad to say goodbye to Derek Bailey, who died on Christmas Day 2005.

His funeral took place on an initially bright but then bitterly cold morning at City of London Cemetery on the edge of Epping Forest; it was much less grim than such things can be. The opening of the proceeding was enlivened hugely by a piece of magically Baileyesque contingency - the Crematorium DJ using the 9:30 or the 10:30's CDs for our 10:00 appointment. Those present were treated to, firstly, a snatch of Simply Red's "If You Don't Know Me By Now"), and then a snippet of The O'Jays "Love Train" ... and then, finally, some Derek solo (I think it was from Derek's CD LACE (Emanem 4013), the track "Which Bit Would You Like Again?" - *not a question you'd relish hearing from Mr Hucknall or an O'Jay).

The bass player Gavin Bryars, who played with Bailey in the mid-60s, stood up and said he didn't think it would be right to read from something written in a room-full of improvisers; and then did a very fine impromptu history of their group Joseph Holbrooke, perhaps telling us a little too much about the recorded legacy of the trio - there's a big batch about to appear on CD - and a little too little about Derek. But that's the price of winging it, I suppose. The comedian Stewart Lee - who has previously recorded his fondness for Derek's work, both solo and with The Ruins, in The WIRE www.richardherring.com/newsletters/newsletter.php?nlid=75 spoke next, ending with a piece of apposite music-hall repartee which fell curiously flat. I suppose it wasn't the place for stand-up, really.

Some more Bailey solo followed, ending up with one of the Derek/Amy Denio/Dennis Palmer gospel songs, which was I suppose the nearest thing to playing "Didn't He Ramble" as would have been appropriate for a non-jazz musician's passing. Here's A Reviewer on the piece:

"After a short spoken invocation in the slowed down drawl of a surreal Southern preacher, Denio and Palmer harmonize the verses of Albert E. Brumley's "Let the Little Sunbeam In" over Bailey's sometimes tonal, sometimes way-out distorted electric guitar. Denio's vocals are clear as day, sounding very much like the star of modest country church, and the trio keeps the original harmonies intact. Bailey's accompaniment is perfect, elegantly suggesting the original chord progression with spiked drones and the occasional shard of dissonance." www.pitchforkmedia.com/record-reviews/b/bailey_derek/gospel-record.shtml

We filed out slowly into the carpark, where the bright earlier sun had been replaced by a bitter cold; were slowly sped by minibus to the Inn on the (side of Victoria) Park, arriving before it opened; a few of us were there until nigh-on when it closed.... There was a good crowd. Karen Brookman and brother, Derek's son Simon and family, doubtless others I wouldn't have known and didn't meet. Musos included Gavin Bryars, Steve Beresford, Tony Bevan, John Bisset, Marie-Angelique Buletter [Sonic Pleasure], Chris Burn, John Butcher, Stu Calton [T.H.F. Drenching], Rex Casswell, Lol Coxhill, Martin Davidson, Angharad Davies, Rhodri Davies, Phil Durrant, John Edwards, Simon Fell, Will Gaines, Paul Hession, Joelle Leandre, Marcio Mattos, Hugh Metcalfe, Neil Metcalfe, Phil Minton, Steve Noble, Eddie Prévost, John Russell (a niftier dancer than you might think), Mark Sanders, Paul Shearsmith, Ian Smith, Roger Smith, John Tilbury, David Toop, Roger Turner, Phil Wachsmann, Alex Ward, Mark Wastell, Alan Wilkinson and, all the way from Norway, Ingar Zach... also a scattering of long-standing non-player enthusiasts (Stephen Becker of the Leeds 'Termite Club', Tim Fletcher, Stewart Lee, Richard Leigh, Esther Leslie, Helen Maleed, Peter Riley, Gerard Tierney, Victor Schonfield, Gina Southgate, Peter Stubley, Ben Watson - and me). I've doubtless not recognised or not remembered others.

I don't have much to report on the wake; there was good food a-plenty, and good beer a-plenty, and good conversation a-plenty, and at one point there was a brief outing for Mr Will Gaines's "Duracell-powered feet" (Stewart Lee's phrase). Those who stayed late got to see John Russell dance, amongst other splendours. It was a good send-off.

Harry Gilonis