MICK MCSHANE is roused by a band whose socialism laces every line of every song with commitment and raw passion

STRANGE and surprising what you can find in a charity shop. During a forage in an East London Oxfam I discovered a marvellous record, released just before the pandemic and underpublicised, underknown and underestimated. It was Trumpeter Byron Wallen’s praise song album to his South London home neighbourhood of Woolwich, simply called Portrait.
It's really a love album: to his neighbours, his streets and their families, the musicians who play with him, and to Woolwich’s working-class history with field recordings of its children, its market, its schools, its central square, ferry and workplaces, its internationalism and powerful diversity. This is a musician’s paean to the place where he lives and belongs.
Born in Stoke Newington, north-east London in 1969, Wallen’s parents are from Belize. “They were not musicians,” he says, “but they loved music; all my siblings learned the piano at an early age.

CHRIS SEARLE wallows in an evening of high class improvised jazz, and recommends upcoming highlights in May


