STROUD'S jazz weekend was celebrated at the Museum in the Park with an exhibition of photographs by Fred Chance and David Corio and Friday night’s opening was buzzing.

David Corio’s work derives from over thirty years’ work in the music press - although these photos seem to derive mostly from the 1980s - and his pictures are elegant and managed.

They are not silent photographs - the musicians are full of energy and excitement. There is always a sense of movement. Look at James Brown’s funky star jump, at Prince’s Michelangelo turn, at Bob Marley’s dreadlocks dancing.

At Tom Waits shaping his music with his hands and his hat. Mind you, Ian Dury caught in repose and a young Nick Cave with a sixth-former’s Friday night hairdo buck the trend a little.

They may be less noisy, these two portraits, but they are full of potential energy.

Fred Chance takes a consistently more informal stance. In both the framing of their subjects and the casual informality of their poses his photographs suggest improvisation and opportunity.

At their very best, these photographs move away from their subject matter to become works in their own right. The fine angles of Richard Thomson’s guitar, of his finger pointing, of the gaze of his eyes, snap into a satisfying geometry.

David Crosby listening to his son playing piano is as carefully imprecise as an etching, and the head with its long, fine hair has a kind of nineteenth-century beauty.

You do not need to know Déja Vu to appreciate this picture. And you do not need to play an Andy Sheppard CD to share the music John Schofield is hearing in Fred Chance’s fine chiaroscuro portrait.

On the other hand, knowing who Robert Plant is, and who Robert Plant was, does make the image of his drinking tea from a mug during a break in rehearsal more striking, more intriguing and more amusing.

Fred Chance’s try to show our heroes slightly off-centre. David Corio’s pictures capture the public image. They reinforce the story we already know. They are fashion plates for the famous and they are none the worse for that.

Black and white photographs have something more than nostalgia about them. The grand piano, the crotchet and the minim, the top hat and tails.

Older visitors to the exhibition will recognise something here from vinyl album sleeves, of course, but these monochrome images lend a grandeur and a certain kind of solemnity to the business of making music.

They are not brash photographs. They do not dazzle with cheap effects. The production is sparse and precise and each image is allowed to occupy its own space.

Some music requires silence to be properly enjoyed and some music requires the buzz of the crowd and a party.

Philip Rush

The Keeping Time exhibition continues at the Museum in the Park until June 26.