Do you know I conducted some research in later years and discovered Jimmy Smith never actually recorded an album called The Chicken Shack? I always presumed this was the case as this album is called Back to the Chicken Shack so I naturally assumed a previous release had been Chicken Shack and this was part of a series that probably included Return to the Chicken Shack, Once More into the Chicken Shack and Goodness, it appears we’re at the Chicken Shack Again- We Really Are The Most Appalling Navigators. But it isn’t.
It’s actually Back At the Chicken Shack
Is it? Well, I’ve been making a fool of myself for all these years then. What a herbert.
What do you remember about the recording?
I remember it being very dark which I discovered late into the sessions was because I was wearing quite heavy sunglasses in the studio.
That’s not like you.
No, it most certainly is not. One didn’t actually apply them to one’s face personally, I believe they just appeared there by the sheer power of jazz. The music was so compelling but laid-back at the same time and it caused everybody in the room to immediately become much “cooler” if you’ll excuse my use of a popular slang term of the time. I believe the sunglasses simply formed on one’s face as if summoned there magically by the groove-induced power of Mr Smith’s organ. I recall removing the first pair and attempting to ascertain how they had made their way onto my face only to discover the room turning dark once more due to a second pair which was magically perched upon my nose. I removed the new pair and had sunglasses in each hand when a third pair appeared in the same place so I reconciled myself to the fact that I was destined to spend the day wearing dark sunglasses indoors. Which I believe rendered my visage considerably more jazz, although it did impair my vision and cause me to step into my own mop bucket on more than one occasion. But the power of the jazz made me look somehow “cool” despite a wet trouser leg and dripping shoe. Not that anyone else noticed of course due to the preponderance of sun-glass wearing in the studio which had afflicted everyone in the same way. I’m sure dear Mrs Tibkiss, who was in charge of hot beverages at the studio, had never donned a pair of tinted spectacles in her entire life. She struggled to negotiate the corridors with her tea trolley at the best of times but with a thick layer of shaded plastic over both eyes, she had no hope at all, poor thing. I found her at the bottom of a stair-well covered in biscuits and soaked from head to foot in earl grey and warm coffee. She was sopping wet with a chocolate bourbon held firmly in the cleavage of her ample bosom but she still sported a pair of dark sunglasses and so manage to look cool even with drops of tea falling off her nose. She even said “far out man” when I inquired after her health, and I’d be prepared to wager her entire collection of baked sugary treats that she had never uttered that phrase before in her life.
Jazz is a powerful force.
This is true.
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