[Dixielandjazz] Brian Rust -- Daily Telegraph

[ROBERT R. CALDER]

Monday 21 February 2011
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/culture-obituaries/music-obituaries/8339184/Brian-Rust.html

 
Brian Rust
Brian Rust, who died on January 5 aged 88, was a discographer and critic who 
compiled standard reference works on early recorded jazz and carried out similar 

work on early recordings in many other fields; for part of his career Rust was 
also employed by the BBC Gramophone Library. 
Brian Rust 
6:12PM GMT 21 Feb 2011 
Rust’s major publications — two large tomes entitled Jazz Records 1897-1931 and 
Jazz Records 1932-1942 — are works of considerable scholarship in which minute 
attention to detail is informed by an impressive grasp of historical context and 

enlightened by an almost boyish enthusiasm. 

These volumes, the fruit of 10 years’ work, were originally funded by 
subscription, like Johnson’s Dictionary, and self-published. Although he was 
humorously aware that the world at large regarded him as mildly eccentric, Rust 
was far from being a “harmless drudge” — Dr Johnson’s term for the comparable 
trade of lexicographer. He had his own radio show for some years, and even 
enjoyed a brief career as a recording artist himself. 

Brian Arthur Lovell Rust was born in London on March 19 1922 to parents who 
detested the modern phenomenon known as jazz. At the age of five he swapped a 
toy train with his brother and acquired his first gramophone. Soon he began 
soliciting old records from relatives and family friends. 

At eight he heard Louis Armstrong’s West End Blues on the radio. “It was during 
lunch, and I was so taken with it that I even stopped eating,” he recalled 65 
years later. He began keeping a journal of pieces that caught his ear and 
haunted junk shops in search of interesting records. This was how he first 
encountered the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, whose music was to become a 
lifelong passion, along with that of King Oliver and Jelly Roll Morton. 

Leaving school at 17, Rust went to work as a junior clerk at the Bank of 
England. His weak eyesight kept him out of the armed forces, and he spent his 
spare time rooting through war-damaged stock in search of old records. He also 
discovered the fledgling craft of jazz discography, selling his cigarette card 
collection to buy the only two works then available — Delaunay’s Hot Discography 

and Schleman’s Rhythm On Record. 

In 1945 Rust joined the BBC Gramophone Library. Although his vast fund of 
knowledge and virtually photographic memory were highly valued, as a Corporation 

employee he was not allowed to engage in regular journalism. Accordingly, when 
he began writing monthly reviews for The Gramophone in 1948 it was under the 
pseudonym “Oliver King”. 

After leaving the BBC in 1960 he also became a prolific writer of album sleeve 
notes and articles in the jazz press. In addition to the two volumes of Jazz 
Records, published in 1961 and 1965, Rust produced a steady stream of scholarly 
publications, including King Joe Oliver (with WC Allen, 1955); Discography of 
Historical Records on Cylinders and 78s (1979); and a brief Guide to Discography 

(1980). Among his other publications are discographies of British and American 
dance bands, British music hall and London musical shows. 

During the skiffle craze of the mid-1950s Rust played drums with an amateur 
group calling itself The Original Barnstormers Spasm Band. Much to his surprise, 

this turned out to be briefly popular and recorded for both Parlophone and 
Decca. 

Rust’s own record collection was enormous, and contained several items of 
fabulous rarity. When his house was burgled in 1965, his remarkable memory 
helped to convict the thief. How could he possibly say, asked the defending 
counsel, that this particular copy of King Oliver’s Sweet Baby Doll was his? 
Because, said Rust, there was a tiny blemish on the surface which caused an 
audible click in the 17th bar of the third chorus. A gramophone was sent for, 
and the click sent the thief to prison for four months. 

Between 1973 and 1984 Rust presented a weekly programme, Mardi Gras, for Capital 

Radio in London. On the day of the first broadcast he turned up with a pile of 
78s which the new, state-of-the-art studio had no means of playing. A hasty 
visit to Oxford St provided enough LPs to get him through the hour. The 
longevity of Mardi Gras was testimony both to the continuing appeal of early 
jazz and the diffident charm of Rust’s presentation. 

In the late 1980s, with the broadcaster Cliff Michelmore, Rust devised and 
operated a scheme to raise money for Age Concern. The public were urged to 
donate unwanted 78 records. Although most would be of no value, some would be 
rare and saleable, Rust’s judgment being the crucial element. 

Records arrived at the rate of 5,000 a week, and among the rarities were several 

original Carusos, Busoni playing one of his own piano works, and a speech by 
Florence Nightingale. 

Rust, who took no interest in modern jazz, summed up his own tastes in My Kind 
of Jazz (1990). His particular fondness for the white jazz of the early period 
led to sneering accusations of racism from critics whose knowledge of jazz — 
black or white — was negligible compared with his. With typical good temper, he 
put it down to his interests being “unfashionable”. 

Brian Rust is survived by his wife, Mary, his son and two daughters.