On Sunday evening, I went to my all-time favourite music venue: Ronnie Scott’s.
I first went there in 2005 when I was a student, studying for a music degree with a focus on saxophone performance, and I was hooked from that first visit.
For the benefit of those who’ve never been, Ronnie Scott’s is a small jazz club in the heart of London’s vibrant Soho. Upon entry through the thick curtain, you are transported into a world of red velvet, candlelight and cocktails. It’s magical. The capacity is only 220 people, with circular dining tables in front of the stage and pew-like seating at the sides, giving it an almost religious feel.
An army of waiting staff wearing red braces (or suspenders, if you’re in the US) deftly serve you drinks and food, somehow without getting in the way of the music. There are rules. Conversation whilst the music is playing is not allowed, as is mobile phone use and photography during the show (although a man sitting near to us seemed to be voice memo-ing the whole gig…). Once the music begins, you transcend a different world. One where sound rules.
On Sunday night at 8pm, three Polish musicians led by pianist Marcin Wasilewski walked onto the stage. Between them they had just three instruments: a piano, a double bass and a drum kit, yet it often felt like there was a symphony orchestra up there due to the range of colours they could each conjure from their instruments.
And at other times, you could hear a pin drop.
Marcin Wasilewski (piano), Sławomir Kurkiewicz (double bass) and Michał Miśkiewicz (drums) have been playing together for 30 years and their connection to each other was so strong. Yes, becoming a great musician is, in part, about mastery of your instrument, but it is so much more than that. It is about listening deeply to your fellow players, and responding thoughtfully.
It’s not competitive, it’s not brash, it doesn’t have to be loud. In fact, some of the most incredible moments I witnessed on Sunday night were the quiet ones. The third piece in the set began with only the piano and double bass and was based on J.S. Bach’s Goldberg Variation no.25. The quiet interplay between the two instruments was mesmerising, as was watching the facial expressions of the two musicians who were responding to every tiny vibration coming from their instruments. After a minute or so, the gentlest whisper of a cymbal crescendo-ed from the other side of the stage, drawing me further in to listen to every detail coming from the kit. Miśkiewicz often used brushes, soft mallets and even his hands rather than drum sticks to create magical sounds from his instrument. It was the opposite of all clichés of drummers!
You can listen to this specific track here:
I’ve noticed that as I get older, I find music moves me in a way that it didn’t before. I connect with it so deeply, and particularly with those soft, piano moments. It made me realise that we need quiet to appreciate loud, just as we need rainfall to appreciate the sunshine that follows.
All of this quiet listening brought to mind Susan Cain‘s book Quiet which I recently finished reading. I’ve written before about how I consider myself to be an introvert, but reading Quiet was revelatory and gave pause to many ‘Ah!’ moments of making sense of feelings I’ve had for my whole life. I wonder if being drawn to listening to quiet music is linked to being an introvert? I should add that I do also love loud music, but it is somehow all the more pleasing when it comes after a prolonged period of quiet sounds.
I try hard to be a good listener to those around me. It can sometimes be difficult during conversations to stop ourselves from jumping in and immediately sharing our own experiences, but there is power in simply listening. For me, there’s nothing better than having a conversation with someone and knowing they are truly taking in what is being said and fully engaging. It’s rarer than we might imagine.
There is also power in pausing.
I paused for a moment whilst typing this and listened. My house was quiet, there were only faint hums and creaks to be heard, but it was calming. I could feel a sense of strength washing over me as I stopped for just that moment. For the first time in my life, I wondered what meditation would feel like.
I’ve never tried it, but I’m off to explore.
Happy listening.
Hannah x
Create Ensemble - Today, 7:30pm UK time (GMT)
I’d love you to join me online this evening for Create Ensemble. It’s an hour or quiet creating in the virtual presence of others. I plan to explore polymer clay with a view to making some earrings, but you might wish to use the time to write, draw, read, knit, bake or something else!
Find out more and access the link to the session via this video post:
Let's meet
I’m posting this newsletter two days early and in the form of a video. That’s so that I can give you some notice for two paid subscriber events I’ve got planned for next week. You’ll have to watch the video to find out more!
And in case you missed it, I wrote a rather honest piece about money. Sharing the ups and downs of my career change from teacher to multi-hyphenate is important to me, and I felt compelled to be candid about my earnings so far. Read it here:
Balancing time and money
It has been approximately six months since I embarked upon a new way of earning a living. Six months since I began a part-time teaching job, working three days per week. Six months since I started earning a self-employed income from interior design consultations, tutoring, piano teaching and writing.






Such an evocative and sensory piece, Hannah. Beautiful.
I've always wanted to go to Ronnie Scott's! Still on my list.
And I also need to read Quiet. I'm so glad it resonated with you.
I have very happy memories of Ronnie Scott’s I definitely don’t have the musical insight you have. But this post so beautifully takes you into the depths of Ronnies. Thank you Hannah xxxx