Issue 95 / Dec18/Jan19

REMY JUDE
ENSEMBLE
The six-piece band may be new on the scene, but they are by no means newbies; this is an indie jazz
super-group, encompassing already established musicians in an effervescent commingling of talent.
The first time I see the REMY JUDE ENSEMBLE at Anti-
Social Jazz Club’s Aerie loft party, I have that rare feeling
of discovering something before the rest of the world
does. Although this was only their fourth performance,
playing to a crowd who was largely unfamiliar with them, it
felt like everyone was there to see their favourite band. Their
laid-back, jazz/hip hop fusion is warm and energetic enough to
get everyone dancing and sweating, pressed right up almost toeto-toe
with them as they exchange thrilled glances and dance
with the audience. The six-piece band is comprised of Remy
Jude’s acerbic bars, Amber Kuti’s effortlessly powerful voice, and
virtuosos Sam Jones, Max O’Hara, Simon Dale and Conor O’Shea
on drums, keys, guitar and bass respectively. The Remy Jude
Ensemble are something like an alt-funk-jazz super-group.
The group mostly met through other musical endeavours:
Max and Amber toured up and down the country last year with
their other project, Galactic Funk Militia; Sam organises events
and drums for the Jam Scones Quartet; and Simon just released
his first solo single, I Don’t Mind, on Spotify ahead of his EP
release. Remy’s star has also been on the rise; he even recently
secured an inspiration of his, Loyle Carner, as a mentor.
A single venue, Frederiks, seems curiously central to the
story of this band getting together. Most of them met there, in
a roundabout way. Sam describes how Parr Jazz’s residency
there brought together guest artists every Tuesday: “They’d do
two sets, and the third set is a jam open to all musicians. It was
at those jams that we would see each other’s musical abilities
and go, ‘Ooh that’s nice, I want some of that’.” The Remy Jude
Ensemble’s seed was sown in those exchanges. These energetic,
connected individuals are evidence of the scene’s current fertility.
As Amber puts it, “Everyone does so many different things. That
brings quite a different element into it. It’s kind of busy, it’s kind
of focused.” The Remy Jude Ensemble’s members remind me of
bright-eyed pupils, bubbling with a wholesome, hungry energy.
“You’ve got to take it seriously,” Remy tells me. “If you don’t
take it seriously, no-one else takes it seriously. That’s the golden
rule.” He recounts his early forays into musical entrepreneurship
in his hometown of Hitchin in Hertfordshire: “I was trying to
create a little music scene, and not many people were there. We
had to cut a live demo for £80, and you’d have to make, like,
100 CDs and force people to buy them all at school to make the
money back. Off the back of that you try and do a show, and if
you got everyone in the school to come then you sold out Club
85.” Those of them that moved here from the uphill struggle of
tiny scenes are perhaps even better placed than Scousers to
appreciate what Liverpool has. Max describes his attempts to
marshal a local funk sextet in the Lake District; the nightmare
of trying to get six 14-year-olds in a room when everyone lives
40 miles away from each other. For these two, coming to a city
overflowing with the same drive was life-changing.
Opportunities to play are abundant here, and this group
is not afraid to take advantage of them. Remy’s enterprising
adolescent spirit has endured into adulthood, and encapsulates
the band’s modus operandi: “A musical CV is not something
to shy away from, or just for wankers,” Remy asserts. In the
culmination to the Merseyrail Sound Station artist development
programme, they performed in Liverpool Central station as part
of BBC Music Day, a prestigious addition to any musical CV.
“Now, you’re able to say to people – we played Central Station. A
portfolio of playing live is important to have.” Each member’s preexistent
portfolios meant that the Remy Jude Ensemble found
themselves, upon their debut performance, in a position to play in
front of “fucking loads of people”.
When they start talking music, it’s hard to keep them on task.
The six of them become almost unmanageably excited, talking
over each other in a cacophony of praise and discussion. Over
the course of the interview, they pretty much shout out every
Liverpool artist Bido Lito! has ever covered, and they even start
mapping out the logistics of a theoretical all-dayer encompassing
Eggy Records, The Blurred Sun Band and the Hushtones while
the Dictaphone is still rolling.
For these ambitious, perpetually busy musicians, Liverpool
is the ideal playground. As Remy points out, the cost of living
here makes it easier to survive as an artist. “All you’ve got if you
go back is a little town north of London and it’s bare expensive,
and if you go back you’ll have to get a nine-to-five job and
settle into the local thing. This city allows you to breathe a
little bit, I suppose.” The close proximity between all the major
venues makes socialising more effortless than in other cities big
enough for a thriving music scene. “It’s a nice size,” says Amber,
comparing it to her years living in London. “I love the fact that you
can walk into town and there’s always gigs going on that aren’t
fucking miles away. There’s so much culture, food and music
and art, and it feels compact.” She found London comparatively
isolating, compared to Liverpool’s condensed set-up. Here,
the ‘music scene’ is a tangible place that is far more open and
democratic than the increasingly conceptual ‘scenes’ that seem to
operate on social elitism and exist only on Instagram. “If I want to
go to a gig and there’s no one in my vicinity to go with,” she says,
“chances are I’ll bump into someone I know there.”
The group has watched Liverpool gaining momentum as an
artistic hub over the last few years. “I feel like the music scene
has got better,” Remy observes, “the nights have become more
regular, and better attended.” Max postulates that we are seeing
a positive reaction against the recent decline we’ve seen with the
closure of places like The Kazimier: “People are actively going
out of their way to appreciate music
venues.” There is a growing culture
of investment in our musicians, from
which the group has directly benefitted:
“The Merseyrail project was brilliant,
how they empowered a few local
people was boss,” Remy tells me. He
expresses a passionate belief in a
self-sustaining musical economy. “You
have to know the people, man, and you
have to care about what the people do.
There’s nothing shitter than someone
who is trying to be in a music scene,
and is not going to other people’s gigs.
It’s pointless, and that’s how scenes
die. This one is picking up because
people are starting to show an interest
and making other people’s gigs a priority. They’re giving up their
time. People have to choose to do it together, and motivate other
people to do that.”
There is much to be said for relationships formed on the
assumption of regularity; consider the reckless abandon with
which we said farewell to our classmates at school, knowing we
would see them again whether we chose to or not. Although,
as Sam jokes, this can be a double-edged sword, ultimately the
certitude of time spent together creates trust and understanding
between people. “You’re not always just gonna hop into
someone’s house or rehearsal space and say, ‘Alright, let’s make a
band today’, d’you know what I mean? Gotta speak with people,
gotta drink with them.” Simon agrees: “You make connections
like this one.” As Remy describes, alliances emerge naturally
in the context of this ‘free-for-all’: “Everyone’s got their head
screwed on, and you just fucking get on with it. It’s not hard,
because everyone’s got that base level of trust, I suppose, or just
acceptance and no fear.”
The Remy Jude Ensemble are a standout example of the
serendipitous convergences generated in this spirit of playful
craftsmanship. The combination of honed musical talent and
frequent collaboration makes things effortless. “There’s a lot of
trust there,” Max tells me. “I can say to Sam, ‘Play that groove
that we like’, and we’re like, ‘Yeh, that’s the one’.” As Remy
suggests, each member’s abilities collude with the others to
produce something greater than the sum of its parts. “One of
the most important parts of what the whole thing does is the
different roles that people play. There’s only a certain amount of
rhythmic, semi-melodic rapping you can do.” Songwriting is a
team effort extending beyond the band, and beyond Liverpool.
The track Where U From? was written by Liverpool artist Moon,
and Band Bak 2Geva came from Remy’s old schoolmate from
Hertforshire, the musician WoodKing. Max finds this process
freeing: “Taking it from track to live, there was quite a lot of
space to get creative and change shit.” The band’s identity is by
no means fixed. “I think there’s even more space for vocals in
a melodic way to come through in the project,” Remy says. For
Amber, this easy-going mentality keeps things fun. “Everybody
is doing ten different bands or solo projects but the common
ambition is similar, and it’s an enjoyment when we’re in the same
room – it’s really open to anyone bringing their own ideas. I have
“It’s powerful when a
band locks in. You’re
trying to enjoy your
music so people can
feel that and enjoy
it themselves”
been in bands where you are insignificant or the butt of the joke.
Or you have a band sometimes that is like, ‘This is how we’re
going to play it’. Which is fair enough, that’s the job, but being
part of this one there is more room to play. Remy’s very open
to people trying out different things.” With mutual respect as a
foundation, possibilities for experimentation quickly expand.
“Yeh, there have been multiple times where Remy has tried
to change the name, but we have none of it,” Simon reveals. But
although they go by the Remy Jude Ensemble, their melodies are
more than a backing track for Remy. “With Where U From?, it’s
reinterpreting music that people have made, and I think that’s the
power of the band we are in. The musicians are so talented. To
hear something and reinterpret it that quickly is something that
I wouldn’t be able to do. That’s a power I haven’t been privy to
before, playing in a band.” As an MC, Remy works in a medium
which closes the distance between performer and audience
by nature, and the others show a touching appreciation of his
prowess as a frontman. “See, this is what we mean when we say
that Remy just talks really nicely,” Sam’s eyes light up. “‘Power
I haven’t been privy to before’ is just
such a lovely sentence.” Amber chimes
in: “Every sentence is like a beautiful
poem.” Simon goes on: “Yeh, he kind of
just talks in rap, and it carries through
onto the stage. He gets the entire
audience on his side, and when he
needs a bit of reciprocation, they’re
just straight in there.” Amber sums it
up: “Charming.” Remy chuckles slightly
uncomfortably, but he knows how
to take a compliment: “Isn’t that the
dream, to be a bit charming?”
At the core of this project is a cool
savviness combined with a genuine
interest in the musicians around them.
“Being ambitious is one thing, but
thinking in a competitive rather than collaborative, or rather just
loving way, is quite damaging,” Max reflects. “When I see a sick
pianist, I would rather think ‘That’s amazing’ than think ‘Oh, I’m
better than that’. You won’t improve that way.” The rejection
of egotism helps to maintain a sustainable momentum, where
everyone’s skills are utilised for the common good. Simon’s
description brings to mind Marx’s phrase ‘From each according
to his ability, to each according to his needs’: “Max is absolutely
amazing at arranging; I produce; Sam produces; we all have beats
that we’ve made at home and collaborated on. We bring them all
together in this melting pot, and we’ve all got our hands in.” Sam
goes on: “Remy is the person you’ve got to be attentive to during
the gig, but it’s conglomerative, its collective.”
This collectivism energises the music and the audience
who listens to it. As Conor says, “It’s not very self-indulgent.
We do play for ourselves, but it’s not for ourselves – we’re just
expressing what makes us feel good, and what makes us go.”
Remy sees this as key to the band’s on-stage dynamic. “The most
recent gig we did [at Aerie], man, we’re all in it, we all felt it. I
think it’s a powerful thing when a band does that, because when
you lock in, you’re not trying to appeal to an audience to like your
music. You’re trying to enjoy your music so people can feel that
and enjoy it themselves.” The warmth that flows between those
watching and the band at that gig is testament to the power of
joyful music born of equal parts graft and love. “The dream is to
take that to different places around the country in the next year,
and different countries.” Hardworking, focused and clearly in love
with their craft, the manifestation of dreams feels like a simple
matter of time for this band. Connor recalls a platitude that aptly
summarises their ethos: “You’ve got to walk the dream with
practical shoes.” !
Words: Niloo Sharifi
Photography: Sarah Vincent / @scruffyonionphotography
Make-up, Styling and Creative Direction: Alex Clark /
goldenaxemakeup.com
Bido Lito! is delighted to present the Remy Jude Ensemble’s first
official release, Live At The Aerie, a visual EP recorded in October.
Head to bidolito.co.uk now to watch.
FEATURE
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