The Independent - London, January 11th, 1997
Standing at the bar, smoking a cigarette, staring into space. . . Whether the venue was a hotel in Havana during the jazz festival he and his partner Pete King helped to organise there; in clubs, pubs and concert halls throughout Britain on tours with his quintet, or, most famously, at his own club in Soho, the late Ronnie Scott did a lot of staring into space. Caught in repose, his hawk-like profile wreathed in clouds of smoke, the contemplative moment provided by a fag break seemed to extend, on a chain of tobacco, into infinity. It's tempting, however fanciful, to imagine that the space Sc...
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