At 82 years old, jazz-funk-soul legend Roy Ayers is hanging up his vibraphone mallets

Time marches on, and our legends are growing old. In particular, 2023 seems a bumper year for farewell tours: Elton John is nearly retired, while Gladys Knight (in Europe at least), The O’Jays, George Clinton, Candi Staton, Alexander O’Neal and Buddy Guy are all on their last tours this year. (Well until some better offers come in – this is Gladys Knight’s second farewell tour of the UK).

One man who is certainly retiring though is Roy Ayers, the vibraphone playing legend, responsible for some of the best songs in the jazz-funk genre. Now though, like so many of our favourites in the genre, he is an old man.

I first saw him play in Newcastle in 2015, and he was getting on a bit then, but that night he gave an incredible show. He even stayed behind after to sign CDs and have pictures taken. Since then I’ve seen him twice in London, once at the Barbican (which felt a little stale), and once at the Union Chapel in 2019 where it was evident that Ayers was slowing down.

Now he’s 82, and I think it’s fair to say, it’s the right call for him to retire. The lure of the road as an ‘icon’ or ‘legendary’ artist, and the money you can command, is no doubt very tempting, but eventually the time comes to say goodbye.

Ayers is much more frail than when I saw him in 2019. As he was helped onto the stage and onto his stool, I couldn’t help feel this was somewhat cruel, forcing an old man to perform like this. Does he want to be here? Does he know where he is? Is this the jazz equivalent of Brian Wilson?

Regardless of these doubts and the fact that I knew he’d be old and frail, I just couldn’t say no to one more Roy Ayers show.

I enjoyed the show overall, but it was a mixed mixed performance to say the least. Ayers sat for the entirety of the show, which was fine by me, but he didn’t really interact with the crowd, leaving that instead to his bandmates. Instead, he simply played his vibes while the band kept the show going around him.

The set was short – about 7 or 8 songs in just over 60 minutes – and there were noticeable absences from the setlist. But the big ones were mostly played: long versions of “Red Black and Green” and “Searching” were extended by excellent keys and sax solos by Casey Benjamin, along with a couple of cuts from the Roy Ayers Ubiquity’s album Evolution.

The band themselves were superb. They were funky yet supportive, allowing Ayers his vibes solos while covering him other times. The drummer and bassist kept the funky beat going, while Benjamin’s sax solos got the crowd going. And when he did play, there were still enough glimpses of Ayers genius to make the show worthwhile. He may be a slower, but he can still play those vibes with pizazz.

And of course the crowd enjoyed long versions of “Everyone Loves The Sunshine” and “Running Away”, even if Ayer’s vibes came unplugged during the latter. His contributions on the night may have been reduced, but the reception towards his hits was positively loud.

That said, all the vocals were handled by his long-time vocalist and tour manager John Pressley. Ayers sang along, but I could rarely hear him in the mix; perhaps his vocals are no longer strong enough, or the sound were I stood drowned him out.

Pressley also did most of the interacting with the crowd, and towards the end of the set, Ayers appeared to zone out and looked tired. Perhaps he’s jet-lagged, or simply can’t hack these shows any more. But, in fairness, Ayers did seem to be getting into the groove and enjoying himself at times. His love of music is clearly undimmed, even if he can no longer perform like before.

About an hour after the set started, Ayers’ bassist called time (although it looked like the drummer wanted to do one more song at least). But as Ayers slowly shuffled off stage, it was clear he wasn’t going to be doing an encore. He could hardily walk off easily, let alone turn around and walk back.

So with little fanfare, no more than a smile and a wave to the crowd, Roy Ayers said goodbye to London, a city he’s played hundreds of times before.

Comments on social media afterwards ranged from the very positive, to those voicing their disappointment with the show given Ayers’ lack of interaction with the crowd and the short setlist.

I can sympathise with both: Ayers is undoubtedly a legend, his music continues to inspire and, at least around me, the crowd seemed to love seeing him play one more time. But it was a bit bittersweet, and given Ayers extensive catalogue, there were several noticeable absences from the setlist: no ‘Can’t You See Me’, no ‘Love Will Keep Us Together’ nor any ‘We Live In Brooklyn’.

Yet, from where I was stood, the cheers and applause throughout was loud. Perhaps that’s less a reflection of the quality of his performance, but more a tribute to a man who has spent his life performing.

Yes, he may have been physically wheeled out for one last tour, but maybe that was the point of it. We got to pay tribute to the man while he’s alive and in his presence, not merely posting platitudes on social media once he’s six foot under. And that was worth it.