If alto saxophonist Pat Britt hadn't stolen bologna from a Bay Area supermarket in 1958, we might never have known his name or his role in helping to found the Bach & Dynamite Dance Society, a jazz club still operating today on Miramar Beach in Half Moon Bay, Ca. The beach-house club became Half Moon Bay's version of The Lighthouse at Hermosa Beach south of Los Angeles, an informal jazz incubator where musicians came to sit in.
For Britt's crime of shoplifting the processed meat, the judge assigned him to Prentice “Pete" Douglas, a probation officer. Douglas owned a beach house, and when Britt turned up for his appointment, Douglas noticed a baritone saxophone in his car. He immediately thought that Britt might be ideal for helping him realize his dream of turning his beach house into a jazz club at night.
Britt took him up on his offer and brought friends, who played in the living room through the night. Word spread, and other musicians began dropping in to jam. It was all impromptu, the way Douglas imagined it. Britt started taking private saxophone lessons to up his game and was soon a fixture on the San Francisco jazz scene. He eventually became the music director of a 15-piece band at the Cow Palace that backed R&B acts.
On July 4, 1964, a party was held at Douglas's beach house. While the music and dancing picked up, an engineer set off heavy charges of explosives on the beach as a prank. In response, Douglas blasted the Bach Brandenburg Concertos on the hi-fi, with the speakers aimed at the beach.
The next morning, when Douglas went out to his mailbox, he saw that a local resident painted “Bach & Dynamite Dance Society" on he box. Douglas laughed, realizing he now had a name for his club.
Britt recorded only five albums over the course of his career. The first was Jazz From San Francisco. Recorded for the Crestview label in October 1966, Britt's quintet featured Al Molina (tp), Bruce Wolff (v-tb), Pat Britt (as), George Muribus (p), Len Lasher (b), Paul Distel (d) or Buddy Barnhill (d). The rare album was just reissued with 24-bit remastering by Fresh Sound
As you'll hear on the following three tracks, the quintet had a Jazz Messengers bent, but there was a lyrical, freewheeling beachy energy that distinguished them. Britt's alto saxophone had an edge, but while his solos weren't as fluid as Los Angeles players, there's plenty of heft and strength. Britt was also a terrific composer, and the pianist, George Muribus, who is new to me, had superb chops.
Patt Britt died in February 2022. He was 82.
For Britt's crime of shoplifting the processed meat, the judge assigned him to Prentice “Pete" Douglas, a probation officer. Douglas owned a beach house, and when Britt turned up for his appointment, Douglas noticed a baritone saxophone in his car. He immediately thought that Britt might be ideal for helping him realize his dream of turning his beach house into a jazz club at night.
Britt took him up on his offer and brought friends, who played in the living room through the night. Word spread, and other musicians began dropping in to jam. It was all impromptu, the way Douglas imagined it. Britt started taking private saxophone lessons to up his game and was soon a fixture on the San Francisco jazz scene. He eventually became the music director of a 15-piece band at the Cow Palace that backed R&B acts.
On July 4, 1964, a party was held at Douglas's beach house. While the music and dancing picked up, an engineer set off heavy charges of explosives on the beach as a prank. In response, Douglas blasted the Bach Brandenburg Concertos on the hi-fi, with the speakers aimed at the beach.
The next morning, when Douglas went out to his mailbox, he saw that a local resident painted “Bach & Dynamite Dance Society" on he box. Douglas laughed, realizing he now had a name for his club.
Britt recorded only five albums over the course of his career. The first was Jazz From San Francisco. Recorded for the Crestview label in October 1966, Britt's quintet featured Al Molina (tp), Bruce Wolff (v-tb), Pat Britt (as), George Muribus (p), Len Lasher (b), Paul Distel (d) or Buddy Barnhill (d). The rare album was just reissued with 24-bit remastering by Fresh Sound
As you'll hear on the following three tracks, the quintet had a Jazz Messengers bent, but there was a lyrical, freewheeling beachy energy that distinguished them. Britt's alto saxophone had an edge, but while his solos weren't as fluid as Los Angeles players, there's plenty of heft and strength. Britt was also a terrific composer, and the pianist, George Muribus, who is new to me, had superb chops.
Patt Britt died in February 2022. He was 82.
This story appears courtesy of JazzWax by Marc Myers.
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