Vintage virtuoso - Martin Taylor

LISTEN TO a pre-war recording of Stéphane Grappelli and Django Reinhardt, during the glory days of their Hot Club de France quintet. Out of the background susurrus emerges music of tremendous grace, energy and drive, the Parisian's sinuous fiddle singing with insouciant ease alongside the Belgian-born gypsy's hectic guitar.

It can be hard to believe that Grappelli and Reinhardt only generated that alchemy for a handful of years, the partnership broken by the war and Reinhardt's death in 1953, with Grappelli going on to become an international byword for virtuosity. Between them they more or less invented European jazz, says Martin Taylor, a world-renowned guitarist in his own right who grew up listening to Reinhardt and toured and recorded with Grappelli for 11 years.

Next Sunday Taylor takes the stage of Edinburgh's Queen's Hall with former Grappelli bassist Jean-Philippe Viret and the Romanian Gypsy violinist Florin Nicolescu to recreate the classic Grappelli trio in a centenary tribute to the great violinist, who died in 1997. The concert is just one highlight of the ten-day Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival, which opens tonight.

Taylor was just in his early 20s when he first met Grappelli. His father, double-bassist Buck Taylor, was a Hot Club fan, and Martin, who was sitting in with his father's band as early as eight, was inspired by the fiery gypsy guitarist, although he credits jazz pianists such as Art Tatum and Bill Evans as later influences. He first met Grappelli casually in 1976, he explains, "but in '79, Diz Disley who was playing with him at the time, broke his wrist and I was asked to take his place for some concerts and a couple of TV shows, which I did and thought that was that."

But the violinist then asked Taylor if he wanted to join him for a US tour, the start of a close association for more than a decade. "He liked the way I played and we just got on really well, which is important when you're on the road. I used to sit there on stage and think to myself, I must remember this because it's not every musician who gets the opportunity to work with somebody from two generations before who is such an important figure in the development of music.

"The thing that struck me about Stéphane was just how much he enjoyed playing for people. There was never any self-indulgence; he wanted to get the music across, and I think his enthusiasm really captivated audiences."

There was never any pressure on him to replicate Reinhardt, he adds: "If I'd tried to play like Django, I don't think I'd have kept the job, because he wanted to move away from that. As he went on, Stéphane's music became more sophisticated and refined."

Taylor reckons he got to know this famously private individual as well as anyone could. Born in Paris to Italian parents on 26 January 1908, Grappelli spent part of his childhood in orphanages after his mother died when he was three and his father went off to the First World War. His earliest performance experience was gained busking on the streets of Montmartre. "He used to say his childhood was like something out of a Dickens novel," says Taylor. "It made him very insecure about money, because he knew what poverty was and he didn't want to go back there."

Even when his reputation was assured, Grappelli was known to take home sandwiches from buffets. "Oh yes, and if you went to his flat in Paris, he had all these little marmalade jars from hotels and planes. But when you knew just how horrendous his childhood was, you could understand it.

"We used to joke about his meanness. Once we were in a bar and ... I don't know whether Stéphane was overcome with something, but he suddenly got his wallet out and bought us all a drink. Our bass player got his camera out and took a photograph."

Taylor laughs: "But then again, there were many times when we were on tour together and he'd buy me dinner. He could get very grumpy, but he was also very witty and could be extremely charming." When French people learn English, he continues, one of the first sentences they learn is "My tailor is rich." Grappelli once said of his playing, "My Taylor is rich in elegance..."

That elegance has generated Taylor, now 51 with an MBE for his services to jazz, a formidable international reputation of his own. He recalls how, in 1995, he invited the by then ailing violinist to play on an album he was recording with his band Spirit of Django. Taylor wanted to revisit a version of Undecided which Grappelli and Reinhardt had recorded with the Hot Club in 1934, but he and singer Claire Martin were horrified when Grappelli arrived at the Paris studio in a wheelchair, seemingly scarcely able to play. With the help of some beer, however, he started to revive: "Then, for Undecided, we got Claire to actually sit in with him and sing to him, and he was mesmerised by her. We did a track and he said, 'That's great, let's do it again,' and he got cheerier and had another sip of beer, and each track got better and better ..."

The result, on Spirit of Django's Years Apart album, captures an old master reprising his solo of 62 years before with astonishing panache, just a year or so before he died.

Next Sunday's concert also promises a unique trip down memory lane. Although Taylor and bassist Viret didn't play with the maestro at the same time, both still have their set lists from those days. And the Romanian violinist, he adds, is "very close to what Stéphane played, but with a bit more of the gypsy thing." For those who never had the opportunity to hear Grappelli, he says, it is the nearest they will get.

• Taylor, Nicolescu and Viret play the Queen's Hall, Edinburgh, on 3 August. For further details see www.edinburghjazzfestival.co.uk