I love the lives of people like Ronnie Ross. A name that doesn’t get immediately recognised by the general public. In fact even in my circle of people who profess to know ‘their stuff’ I’ve known them to get him mixed up in conversations in pubs with Ronnie Scott (though admittedly drink may have played a small part in that.) 

However to those who study these things just that little bit deeper, it is a name that throws up many a fascinating angle for someone to write about.

My entry point to Ronnie was his album on the Fontana label from 1968 called ‘Cleopatra’s Needle.’ On this great piece of work, he is joined by Les Condon, Art Ellefson, the legend that is Bill Le Sage, Spike Heatley, Tony Carr and the ever-forceful Ronnie Stephenson on drums.

The title track absolutely cracks along and it was that that made an immediate impression on me. I endeavoured to find out more about Ross though details were sketchy at best, but his work on many UK jazz albums and his work as a session musician in general, serve up an interesting and diverse career.

He was born in India in 1933 to a Scottish mother and father, before at the age of thirteen returning to the UK to attend school in Cambridge. 

In the 1950s, he was a mainstay of many a jazz line-up, originally starting on the tenor sax, before moving over to a baritone in 1954, and specialising on the instrument from then on in.  

He recorded from 1955, first with Tony Crombie and Don Rendell, who it is said ‘discovered’ Ronnie, and singer Cleo Lane. His group the ‘Jazz Makers’ with Allan Ganley on drums performed at the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival. There Atlantic Records discovered them and they later recorded ‘The Swinging Sounds of The Jazz Makers’ for the label in 1959.

Also that year, they toured the States, and in the next decade he would go on to work with the likes of Woody Herman, Clark Terry Johnny Dankworth and the Tubby Hayes big band.

However, the mid to late 1960s was a tough time for the UK jazz scene on general with ‘Pop’ sound dominating the airwaves and then the clubs. To find employment, he often worked all over Europe and took part in many commercial sessions as a daily necessity and in doing so, it is fair to say he left his mark on some big names. More of that in a minute.

Then in 1968, he finally got the chance to record as leader in a jazz line up. 

‘Although I welcomed the chance, I was a bit apprehensive about these sessions,’ said Ronnie back then, ‘because I’m not so steeped in jazz these days. But the playback sounded pretty good and I feel much happier about the whole thing. In fact, nothing was as petrifying as having to perch on that ledge on Cleopatra’s Needle for the cover picture!’ (Check out the album cover which features the monument situated on London’ Victoria Embankment)

One bit of later session work was a direct result of him giving saxophone lessons to a 12-year-old boy from Bromley called David Jones. That little boy would, of course, become David Bowie who recalled how when introduced to the music of Eric Dolphy and John Coltrane, and being given an alto sax, he decided he wanted to have lessons.

He knew the name of Ronnie Ross from him winning a ‘New Star’ award in the Downbeat magazine and then found out that he lived locally. After being contacted, Ross at first said no, but later relented and taught the young Jones his way around the keys of the instrument.

Years later in 1972, Bowie found himself producing the song ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ with his guitarist Mick Ronson, for Lou Reed and they decided that they needed a sax break at the end of the song. Bowie had Ronnie booked for the session, but kept his own personal involvement in that out of the way. 

Ronnie turned up and produced that memorable solo in just one take. It was then that Bowie said his hellos. The penny then dropped on Ross who exclaimed, ‘I don’t fucking believe it! You’re Ziggy Stardust?’

Other session work of note included, him appearing on the 1968 George Harrison/ Beatles song ‘Savoy Truffle’, and he can also be seen years later on the TV show ‘Top of the Pops’ providing instantly recognisable sax breaks for the group Matt Bianco.

During the research for this piece, I have read that his only real rival on the baritone sax was Gerry Mulligan. I’d also throw in Sahib Shihab into that particular mix, but from what I have heard, he was certainly good enough to be considered in that company.

Ronnie died in London in 1991 from Cancer aged just 58.

The Mumper of SE5