Dennis Morris: Music + Life @ the Photographers’ Gallery

This is a fabulous exhibition by a pioneer Black British photographer who started out recording the Windrush generation of Black immigrants, branched out into photojournalism about Asians in Southall and documentary photography of white life in the shabby 1970s, before having a fabulous stroke of luck in getting permission to photograph Bob Marley on his 1973 UK tour, snapping iconic photos which turned him into one of rock’s most successful photographers, a reggae connection which gave him an entrée into the circle of the Sex Pistols whose agenda-setting tours he documented, before going on to produce iconic images of numerous other bands and performers throughout the 1980s and ’90s.

It’s a delight and a pleasure because the subject matter (the rock, pop, punk and reggae music of my youth) is so easy to process and enjoy – and because Morris is such a brilliant photographer, producer of numerous iconic photos for press, magazine and record covers.

Growing Up Black

Part of the Windrush generation, Morris and his mother immigrated from Jamaica to Britain in the early 1960s. He was given his first camera at the age of 8 and became around his East End neighbourhood as Mad Dennis, due to his preference for photography over football. After inadvertently stumbling across a demonstration by the PLO one Sunday, savvy young Dennis snapped the march then took his photos to a photo agency on Fleet Street which promptly sold it to the Daily Mirror for £16. He was just 11 years old!

He had made pocket money by taking photos of christenings and birthday parties but now he realised it could pay. He rigged up a studio in his flat (which consisted of hanging a sheet up on the wall) and started doing portraits of the community. There are ten or so of these really early portraits here and they show both his commitment but juvenile technique – subjects are a bit out of focus or not properly framed.

But he was soon branching out into street photography in the style of the great photographers he read about in photography magazines, men like Robert Capa, Henri Cartier-Bresson and Don McCullin.

This evolved into the project titled ‘Growing Up Black’, which includes Black immigrants in a variety of activities, shopping, cooking, kids on the street, dressing up, singing in a choir, licking a lolly – as well as the underground sound system culture strongly connected with reggae, and shots of the Black House in north London run by the controversial Michael X as a hostel for disaffected Black youth.

Count Shelley Sound System, 1970s by Dennis Morris © Dennis Morris

Southall

Having mastered the art of gaining people’s trust in his own community, Morris made the bold decision to investigate the Asian community in Southall, west London. He succeeded spectacularly, the trust he won and the access he gained and the candour and intimacy of the shots he took of Asian life are very powerful.

Man with his two daughters and his most prized possession, Southall, 1976 by Dennis Morris © Dennis Morris

The curators, as is their wont, tend to focus on the ethnicity and multiculturalism of the photos, but what gets me is the poverty and the shabbiness of so many people’s lives. If you didn’t live through the 1970s you can’t really know how rundown and derelict everything felt, and how people put up with extremely low standards of accommodation, hygiene, food and culture. Morris’s photos of Black, Asian and White life all bring back the sights and smells and sounds and the terrible narrowness of life at that time.

The curators single out the way Morris was impressed by the ‘resilience’ of Asian kids who came home from school and went straight to work in their parents’ shops. Well, I did the same. I still remember the Great Day when the register in my parents’ shop where you had to push down the money keys, as on a big clunky typewriter, to make big price labels appear behind the glass screen at the top, was replaced by a zippy new electric till where you lightly tapped the keys and the sums were shown on a digital display. Revolutionary!

This Happy Breed

Having done Black and Asian life, Morris turned his camera on the indigenous white population. If Blacks and Asians can talk about their communities and their people, then this section is about my people, lower middle class and working class white people. Morris would roam the streets with his camera, looking for subjects. A favourite destination was Hyde Park Corner with its guaranteed cohort of eccentrics.

The exhibition includes wonderfully candid shots of barbers with all their old paraphernalia and cheap scents, greengrocers filled with crates of fresh fruit and veg – I can smell the aromas of wilting cabbage and over-ripe tomatoes, I can hear the matey laughter of the shopkeeper. These are wonderfully vivid, alive, varied and beautifully shot images.

There’s a Darby and Joan club, football supporters, Pearly Kings, a gurning competition (if anyone remembers those) and that old stalwart, that reliable old subject which always shows the English at their embarrassing worst, the seaside.

On a school trip to Woolacombe in 1974, Morris took this photo of two of his teachers and won the prize in his school’s photo competition © Dennis Morris

The title is obviously a reference to the 1939 play of the same name by Noel Coward which was made into a classic British movie. As it happens I’ve read and reviewed it recently, and here’s the link if you want to find out more.

Enter Bob Marley

In a much-told story, Morris read that his reggae hero Bob Marley was going to play some gigs at the Speakeasy club on Margaret Street in Soho and so, aged just 14, he bunked off school and hung around outside the club all day hoping to meet his hero. And he did, Marley was taken by the keen young snapper and let him into the club and to take photos of the band and the performance.

Thus began a lifelong friendship and collaboration with Marley right up to the singer’s untimely death in 1981. Of their lifelong partnership, he said ‘It was much more than just taking the photos. It was a teaching, a learning, a growing’ and this comes over in the sheer number of photos on display here.

Here’s a wall of shots showing the great man lying in bed, playing ping-pong, sitting under a tree in his garden, looking over his shoulder in a taxi, and generally exuding effortless class and charisma. In Morris’s words, ‘he just radiated grace.’

A wall of Bob Marley photos in Dennis Morris at the Photographers’ Gallery (photo by the author)

Pre-eminent are three big colour prints of the shots he took at the famous 1975 concert at the Lyceum Theatre in London, one of which was used for the cover of the live album.

Some of the Bob Marley room showing colour stills from the legendary 1977 Rainbow gig, on the wall, with a display case of New Musical Express and Melody Maker covers featuring shots by Morris, in Dennis Morris at the Photographers’ Gallery (photo by the author)

What really comes over is how extravagantly photogenic Marley was, how handsome and cool and charismatic, whatever his mood, in whatever pose.

It was the 1975 Lyceum shots which made Morris’s career. In 1973 he was little known but by 1975 he was emerging as a superstar and also a figurehead for an entire genre of music. Lots of photographers went but only Morris had the access due to his established friendship. He got the best shots and sold them to all the cool mages, the New Musical Express, Melody Maker, and Time Out. From now on he was able to sell his photos not only of Marley but of a new generation of London musicians just hitting the street.

The Sex Pistols

After the Sex Pistols signed to Virgin Records in May 1977, Johnny Rotten approached Morris personally and asked him to photograph them. Morris spent the next year with the Pistols, documenting their onstage and offstage antics in depth, taking hundreds of classic shots of the band. The only photographer to put the Sex Pistols fully at ease in front of the lens, Dennis’ work with the band established, not only their public image, but also Dennis’ position as one of the most exciting and striking music photographers in the country. In the wall of Pistols, below, note especially:

  • second column, second down – the classic shot of guitarist Steve Jones (which he used as the cover of his autobiography)
  • fourth column, top – Johnny Rotten in classic pose
  • fourth column, second down – the three front men in classic pose

The wall of Sex Pistols photos in Dennis Morris at the Photographers’ Gallery (photo by the author)

Another wall has a set of images of Sid Vicious given the Andy Warhol-Marilyn Monroe silk screen treatment.

Sid Vicious given the Marilyn silk screen treatment in Dennis Morris at the Photographers’ Gallery (photo by the author)

Here’s a reminder of what we’re talking about:

Public Image Ltd

In 1978, as the Pistols broke up, Virgin boss Richard Branson invited Morris to accompany him on a talent-spotting trip to Jamaica and Morris persuaded Virgin that Rotten (now reverting to his given name of John Lydon) should accompany them. Quite apart from the reggae talent that Morris helped bring to Virgin’s attention, the reggae sound of performers like Lee Perry, the Abyssinians, Big Youth and U Roy made a deep impression on Lydon as he was assembling his post-punk band, Public Image Limited. PiL were to pioneer a distinctive sound mixing the experimental Krautrock-inspired guitar of Keith Levene with the heavy dub bass of Jah Wobble. The more you listen, the more fascinating Levene’s unconventional guitar patterns become.

Morris played a key role in not just photographing the new band, in a deliberately post-punk, anti-punk style – but crafting their public image. He created the PiL logo and designed the innovative Metal Box album packaging – as documented in a wall of images and display case here.

The Public Image Limited wall, showing stylised portraits of (top left to right) guitarist Keith Levene, drummer Jim Walker, and John Lydon looking like a choirboy – with at the far right an early version of the band’s logo: in the display case are more photos and a copy of the metal box LP – all in Dennis Morris at the Photographers’ Gallery (photo by the author)

After punk

There’s more, lots more. The story of how Morris got the image for the cover of Marianne Faithfull’s 1979 solo album, Broken English.

This was part of his work as art director of Island Records which saw him design album covers for Linton Kwesi Johnson, Marianne, Marley and many others. Downstairs is a gallery of his LP covers, as well as other rock memorabilia depicting his photos or designs (t-shirts, lighters, cigarette papers etc).

Display of LP album covers which Morris contributed images and design for, in Dennis Morris at the Photographers’ Gallery (photo by the author)

During this period Morris replaced Don Letts as vocalist of Basement 5, a reggae punk fusion band. He created their logo, image, photography and graphics and gained a recording contract with Island Records.

Subsequently he did photo shoots with a series of icons: from 1970s rock artists like Patti Smith and Grace Jones, through Prince’s heyday in the 1980s and on into the 1990s, the era of the Stone Roses, Oasis, Primal Scream and much more.

At the same time he maintained his close connection with reggae artists and the exhibition features a slideshow projected on a wall of a pantheon of reggae stars including The Gladiators, the Mighty Diamonds and many more.

And he promoted Black British performers such as Steel Pulse, Aswad, often photographing them and taking a hand in designing and styling their images and record artwork. It was Morris who persuaded Island records to sign the great Linton Kwesi Johnson, for which act alone he deserves a medal.

Summary

What range, from the poor streets of Hackney and Southall, to hobnobbing with music royalty, from the Sex Pistols to Steel Pulse, from white punk rock to the blackest of hard-core reggae, and then on to a galaxy of top pop stars. But it’s maybe those early shots, from Hackney, Southall and white working class lives from the 1970s, which linger longest in the memory…

The Trot, Southall Horse Market from This Happy Breed © Dennis Morris


Related links

Related reviews

Rhythm and Reaction @ Two Temple Place

This is a surprisingly in-depth and thorough account of the arrival of jazz in Britain and its impact not just on popular music, but on the technology behind it (recording studios, radios, gramophones), on the design of everything from fabrics to dresses to shoes to tea sets, its appearance on posters and adverts, and its depiction in the fine arts, too.

And it’s FREE.

The exhibition is curated by Catherine Tackley, Professor and Head of Music at the University of Liverpool, one of the UK’s leading authorities on jazz, and it really shows. She’s authored a book on the subject – The Evolution of Jazz in Britain, 1880 to 1935 – and the two big galleries and hallway are dotted with wall panels packed with historical information.

The Original Dixieland Jazz Band at The Palais de Dance, Hammersmith 1919. Photograph, Max Jones Archive © Max Jones Archive

The Original Dixieland Jazz Band at The Palais de Dance, Hammersmith 1919. Photograph, Max Jones Archive © Max Jones Archive

Minstrels and ragtime

The chronology starts before the turn of the twentieth century with photos and props showing the earliest stage performances of black minstrel music. This developed into ‘ragtime’ just about the time of the Great War. There are photos of some of the early stars of both forms as well as a wall of banjos, the signature instrument of late-19th century minstrel shows. Apparently, visiting Afro-American banjo players gave lessons to the future King Edward VII.

American banjos from the 1870s and 80s

American banjos from the 1870s and 80s

The craze for ragtime swept Britain’s cities in 1912 or so, epitomised by the hit show Hullo Ragtime. There’s a display case of contemporary cartoons and postcards showing comic situations all based on the new sound and its jagged funky dance style.

I especially liked the caricatures by W.K. Haselden, including one where the new syncopated music is presented to a board of very stiff old bishops who, in a sequence of cartoons, slowly loosen up until they are jiving round the floor in pairs. (As it happens, googling W.K. Haselden brings up some of his anti-suffragette cartoons of the day.)

Jazz arrives

It was only in 1919 that the first actual jazz bands arrived in Britain, specifically an all-white outfit called the Original Dixieland Jazz Band. In fact, the majority of the jazz which Britons heard and danced to during the Jazz decade, the Roaring Twenties, was performed by white musicians who quickly adapted to the new sound.

Jazz had a huge impact on popular culture. In terms of live performances it quickly spread throughout post-war dance halls and bars. The vibrant new sound, and the revolutionary new and uninhibited dances which went with it, were captured in the new medium of film, and the exhibition features half a dozen clips of crash-bang jazz performers, or of nightclub performers putting on floor shows to jazz accompaniments. Eat your heart out, Keith Moon!

The exhibition has lined up a playlist of vintage jazz for visitors with smart phones to access via Spotify, so you can listen while you read while you look.

Impact on the fine arts

The show features a sequence of paintings by artists who responded to the new sound. These include several works by Edward Burra, who went to New York in the early 30s to seek out the music on its home turf and painted what he saw there.

I was thrilled to see several works by Vorticists, the home-grown alternative to Cubism led by Vorticist-in-chief Wyndham Lewis. The show includes an original menu designed by Lewis for the ‘Cave of the Golden Calf’ nightclub, admittedly just before the Great War (and jazz) but a forerunner of the kind of post-War dives and nightclubs which would feature the new sounds. The Vorticist theme is continued with the inclusion of several works by the painter William Patrick Rogers.

The Dance Club (The Jazz Party) 1923 by William Patrick Roberts © Estate of John David Roberts

The Dance Club (The Jazz Party) 1923 by William Patrick Roberts © Estate of John David Roberts

Next to Roberts’ energetic Vorticist caricatures, are hung a number of more staid and traditional paintings, maybe reflecting the reaction against war-time modernism and the move back towards greater figurativeness and social realism of the 20s and 30s, as in this painting by Mabel Frances Layng.

Tea Dance by Mabel Frances Layng (1920)

Decorative jazz

You’d expect artists to paint the new thing, just as they had painted scenes from nightclubs, theatres and the opera for decades. What was more surprising and interesting about the exhibition was the way jazz-inspired motifs appeared in the decorative arts. There are several wall-height hangings of fabrics created using jazz designs, images of jiving bodies, or even more abstract, zig-zag patterns conveying a dynamic sense of movement.

Maybe the most unexpected but striking artefacts were the jazz-inspired ceramics – including some wonderfully colourful vases and a jazz-inspired Royal Winton tea service.

Royal Winton, Grimwades Jazz Coffee Set (1930s) Ceramic Private Collection © Two Temple Place

Royal Winton Grimwades Jazz Coffee Set (1930s) Ceramic Private Collection © Two Temple Place

Jazz memorabilia

There’s a section devoted to old gramophones such as my grand-dad might have owned, along with shelves full of delicate old 45 rpm records, and 1920s covers of Melody Maker magazine giving the hot news on the latest from the jazz scene.

For a long time records could only handle 3 or 4 minutes of music, which made recording classical music problematic, but was perfect for the new punchy jazz numbers.

Similarly, as the newly founded British Broadcasting Corporation (established in 1922) began broadcasting, it encountered problems scheduling entire orchestras to play classical pieces which could be up to two hours long. On the other hand, the house bands from, say, the Savoy ballroom, could easily fit into a modest-sized studio in Broadcasting House and play precisely to a half-hour or hour-long time slot, as required. Very handy.

Thus the requirements of the new technology (the practicality of radio, the time limitations of records) and the format of the new music (short and flexible) conspired to make jazz both more popular and accessible than previous styles.

And more collectible. By the 1930s record collecting was well-established as a hobby, with networks of ‘rhythm clubs’, shops and specialist magazines.

The Melody Maker, Xmas 1929 © Time Inc. (UK) Ltd, courtesy of the National Jazz Archive

The Melody Maker, Xmas 1929 © Time Inc. (UK) Ltd, courtesy of the National Jazz Archive

Visits of the jazz greats

Meanwhile, back with the story of the music itself, a series of wall labels in the stairwell describe how the visits of leading black jazz artists in the 1930s deepened the understanding of British musicians and fans alike to the black origins of the music, and to its real expressive potential.

Louis Armstrong visited in 1932 and Duke Ellington in 1933, as shown in British press photographs of the day. It is hard to credit the photo of Fats Waller playing the Empire Theatre, Glasgow, in 1938. Talk about ‘when worlds collide’.

The section on Bronislava Nijinska the ballet dancer was unexpected. Nijinska trained and performed with Diaghilev’s famous Ballets Russes. In 1925 she left to set up her own company, the Théâtre Chorégraphique, where she developed a piece titled Jazz based on Stravinsky’s 1918 piece, Ragtime.

The exhibition features sketches for the dancers’ costumes as well as display cases showing two full-length outfits for Jazz. And the first venue in the world where this wonderfully cosmopolitan piece was premiered was – Margate! Before moving on to Eastbourne, Lyme Regis, Penzance and Scarborough.

Costumes for Bronislava Nijinska's production of Jazz (1925)

Costumes for Bronislava Nijinska’s production of Jazz (1925)

The jazz ban

Maybe the most interesting historical fact I learned was that the British government brought in a travel ban on American jazz bands in 1935. This was in response to calls from the British Musicians Union to retaliate for a similar American ban on British bands playing over there – but it’s hard not to think that the British public was by far the biggest loser.

Individual soloists (such as Fats or Sidney Bechet) were allowed to travel here, and play with pick-up bands – but this one single fact maybe explains why the kind of ‘Trad Jazz’ my Dad liked lingered on in this country long after American jazz had evolved through swing and bebop into cool jazz by the middle 1950s, when the ban was finally dropped.

It helps to explain the oddly reactionary image which British jazz fans acquired by the 1950s (I think of Kingsley Amis and Philip Larkin’s grumpy devotion to the earliest jazz styles).

Premier Swingster 'Full Dress' Console drum kit (1936) courtesy of Sticky Wicket's Classic drum Collection

Premier Swingster ‘Full Dress’ Console drum kit (1936) courtesy of Sticky Wicket’s Classic drum Collection

Two Temple Place

Two Temple Place is on the Embankment, a few hundred yards east of the Savoy Hotel. It is an extraordinary building, worth a visit in its own right.

The American William Waldorf Astor was one of the richest men in the world when he decided to move to England in 1891. He wanted a building with offices which he could use as a base to manage his impressive portfolio of properties in London and so, in 1895, he bought the small Gothic mansion on the Victoria Embankment at Two Temple Place overlooking the River Thames. He commissioned one of the foremost neo-Gothic architects of the late-nineteenth-century, John Loughborough Pearson, to carry out a $1.5 million renovation in order to turn it into the ‘crenellated Tudor stronghold’ we see today.

Two Temple Place, London WC2R 3BD

Two Temple Place, London WC2R 3BD

It is pure pleasure to wander round inside the remarkable building, marvelling at the intricate wood panelling on all the walls and, in particular, on the elaborate staircase – as well as the spectacular stained glass creations in the Long Gallery upstairs.

The staircase at Two Temple Place

The staircase at Two Temple Place

The building is now owned by the Bulldog Trust and every winter they hold a public exhibition. This is the seventh such show, a joint venture with the Arts Society, and brings together artefacts from museums and galleries around the country, not least from the venerable National Jazz Archive in Essex.

The setting is stunning, and the Rhythm and Reaction exhibition is wonderful, informative and uplifting. And it’s all free. What are you waiting for?


Related links

More exhibitions