[ London ]
Off the wall
If the Athenaeum hotel were a member of your family, it would be the singleton aunt who appeared on the outside to epitomise traditional courtesies – but actually had a racy past and therefore forgave naughty peccadilloes. Now, however, she’s as likely to be hanging out with you at cocktail bars, knocking back bellinis – if not throwing the parties herself. I say this because the multi-million facelift for the five-star Athenaeum has just been unveiled.

The pièce de résistance? The Rooftop penthouse suite has three bedrooms (ideal for a large family, a rock ‘n’ roll entourage or merely the sort of party that leads to cosying up with the guests). Other large suites also throw in complimentary soft drinks and snacks from the minibar: a nice touch.

The refurb is all terribly modern (flatscreen TVs, iPod docking stations and neutral furnishings), but frankly who needs to stare at the walls when you have views overlooking Green Park? The outside wall, though, is worth staring at: this Living Wall, the first of its kind for a London hotel, was created by Patrick Blanc, the world’s most renowned vertical garden designer and comes into bloom just in time for the relaunch. Robina Dam

The Athenaeum, 118 Piccadilly, London W1, +44 (0)20 7499 3464; www.athenaeumhotel.com

[ Jordan ]
Med or Red?
At the very top of the Red Sea, by Jordan’s only seaport, the newly opened Kempinski Aqaba offers the kind of experience you’d normally expect from the Caribbean or Mediterranean. The clear waters are perfect for yachting, windsurfing, kayaking, diving, snorkelling and swimming – all of which the hotel can organise – and you have one of the world’s best preserved coral reefs to explore. All 201 luxury rooms have sea views thanks to the hotel’s teardrop-shaped plan, there are six restaurants and bars to pick from, and if you can drag yourself away from the beach, full business facilities, including a 400-capacity conference room. Lee Cheshire

Kempinski Hotel Aqaba, Jordan, +962 3 209 0888, www.kempinski-aqaba.com

When the Gastronomic Society of Lebanon met for lunch a few weeks ago in Syria, they had the pick of the crop, as it were. But instead of a glitzy restaurant in Damascus or a star-studded eatery in the likes of the Four Seasons hotel, they took over a private dining room housed in a 17th-century basement in Aleppo. For the Mansouriya Palace Hotel may be a boutique hotel that is a well-kept secret, but its culinary reputation has clearly been spreading not only throughout the country but also the Middle East.

How come? The Gastronomy Club of Syria made the recommendation to their Lebanese counterpart as they see the Mansouriya’s menu as championing traditional home cooking. “Our chef Ahmed Kilo may be very young but some of his recipes are very old,” the hotel’s proprietor tells me. “He’s been properly trained by the most important person possible…” I await the name of an eminent Syrian chef, “…his mother!”

And mama obviously taught young Ahmed how to perfect rose jam, one of the Mansouriya’s specialities, as well as Syrian truffles, also known as desert truffles (in season between February and March), served with rice. Yet it’s the simple, peasant dishes which hit the spot – such as ful, the broad bean stew, which is served with a separate garnish of minced onion, parsley, olives, tomatoes and lashings of olive oil. All this, and an atmospheric arched cave that looks like it should have been used in The Da Vinci Code, makes it highly romantic.

The restaurant isn’t publicised, to keep it largely the reserve of the hotel’s residents (a maximum of 18 in high season) but corporates can now book it for functions.

Mansouriya Palace, Babb Qinnesrin, Aleppo, +963 (21) 3632000; www.mansouriya.com

This somewhat over-enthusiastic comparison does hold, though. Jeddah is the principal port on the Saudi side of the Red Sea and a key economic hub. Before the rise of the oil industry, Saudi was primarily a trading nation and the commercial harbour remains busy to this day.

Muslim worshippers from across the globe disembark in Jeddah on their Hajj (25–29 November this year) and Umrah pilgrimages (undertaken on any date). Thanks to their cosmopolitan footfall, the city has developed a rich multicultural mix unlike other Saudi cities.

Jeddah is also a seaside resort, with seafront promenades, playgrounds and restaurants. All these factors have contributed to Jeddah’s relatively lax social climate – while religious laws are observed just as diligently here as they are in Riyadh, the city manages to dispel the pall of piety that hangs over the more observant of Saudi cities.

According to a tenacious yet unlikely legend, Jeddah is also the final resting place of Eve, the Biblical first woman. Some say the city’s name is derived from the Arabic word for grandmother, while others insist that Eve’s body lies in the Hawa Cemetery, northeast of the Al-Balad district. Non-Muslims aren’t allowed to visit the tomb, yet the claims go some way to illustrate that in Jeddah, unlike other Arabian cities, the ancient and modern rub along together quite easily.

You are likely to see the newer side first, when you arrive into the King Abdulaziz International Airport. Be sure to look out for the Hajj terminal, a huge, open-air pavilion which, while empty for most of the year, processes around one million pilgrims within a few days each autumn.

Most of the upmarket hotels, such as the Hilton, lie south of the airport, along the seafront strip, or corniche. This 12-storey building has attracted a good mix of business and leisure visitors since it opened in 1997 (rooms start at around £250). We used the outdoor pool, drank at Café Vienna and tried the Persian restaurant, Al Khayam, which is said to the best in the city.

Though the Hilton is only a few miles from the downtown, historic district of Al-Balad, it’s wise to catch a cab, rather than walk; even a short stroll in the Saudi sun will leave you soaked in sweat. Agree on a price before the passenger door shuts and you’ll save yourself some riyals.

Rather than prizing their older buildings, upwardly mobile Saudis have fled this more ancient side of the city, leaving handsome old buildings to the guest workers and poorer sections of society. This is a pity, as the streets of Al-Balad are far prettier than the new builds to the north. Though their structural integrity might leave something to be desired, their intricate mashrabiyyahs, or dark wooden shutters, are certainly worth snapping.

During an early morning stroll in Al-Balad we drank some sweet local coffee and ate fresh chapattis, cooked before us by Indian guest workers. It’s a minimal cost but the wealth of cultural insight is considerable.

It’s hard to do anything in Jeddah’s midday heat; better to retire to your hotel room or shelter in the air-con bliss of somewhere like the Oasis or Red Sea malls, where locals while away their leisure hours.

Late afternoon and early evening are the best times to visit the corniche. Again, Al-Balad is a good place to start. The district lies at the southern end and hosts a great array of souks, where you can pick up anything from loofahs to ladies’ underwear.

Further along the coast, you can take in the city’s world-famous collection of international modern sculpture. These public works were commissioned by the city’s former mayor, Mohamed Said Farsi, and were installed on the shorefront from the mid-1970s onwards. There are four Henry Moore sculptures, as well as work by Joan Miró and Jean Arp. Newer additions, such as giant birthday cakes and ceramic sea scenes, may be of more questionable artistic merit, yet still go some way to brighten the city.

Finally, stop by King Fahd’s fountain, the world’s tallest, shooting a column of water a record-breaking 312 metres into the air. It’s well lit at night, and the falling spray looks mesmerising in the twilight. We might not be in California, yet Jeddah can, at times, prove just as dreamy.

Owain Raw-Rees, chairman of the Riyadh Group for British Business, brings together some of his members’ words of advice

• Do not be put off by ‘multiple’ meetings. It’s not unusual to attend an appointment and find that other unconnected people are already there or join you later. It’s all part of the ‘getting to know you’ culture.

• Beware of exclusive arrangements when negotiating representation in the Kingdom. Depending on the industry sector, you may need to consider different arrangements for different products or separate agents for separate regions.

• Always make an allowance for re-visiting the Kingdom. Doing business in Saudi requires a long-term commitment and you will be expected to meet your contacts in person on a regular basis.

• ‘Insh’allah’ literally means ‘If Allah wills it’, or ‘God-willing’. However, it is used with regard to forthcoming events and has an air of fatalism, which can’t be readily expressed in English. You may hear it peppered throughout conversations on a daily basis. For example: “I will see you tomorrow, Insh’allah”, “We will work together, Insh’allah.”

• Men should avoid wearing shorts, short-sleeved or unbuttoned shirts.

• Seek advice on what is acceptable clothing before you arrive and take care not to offend.

Their role, to cast and clothe models, pick outfits and work on visual concepts for photo shoots, is little understood and rarely held in high regard. Yet a few skilled stylists can upgrade an ordinary fashion snap to a stop-and-stare image.

Simon Foxton is one of those few. He has served as a creative consultant for Levi’s and a contributing fashion editor for i-D magazine. Foxton is widely credited with introducing sportswear into our everyday wardrobe. “It’s difficult to imagine a time when sportswear wasn’t readily available on the high street,” he says, “yet it was quite a new thing to view sportswear as designer wear when I started out.”

His works are held in the collections of the V&A museum and the Tate, and a retrospective of his career goes on display at this central London gallery this month. Yet Foxton remains modest. “My mum still thinks I’m a clothes designer,” he jokes when we meet.

An 1983 graduate from London’s Central Saint Martins college, Foxton has done everything from dressing elderly ranch hands in the latest Levi’s jeans through to morphing muscle boys into a minotaur (pictured) for a shoot with photographer Nick Knight. Having shaped a quarter century of British imagery, Foxton remains unconcerned by his vocation’s obscurity.

“Most people don’t realise what we do,” he says, “yet it doesn’t matter. It’s the images that count.”

When You’re a Boy: Men’s Fashion Styled by Simon Foxton, 17 July – 4 October, The Photographers’ Gallery, 16-18 Ramillies Street, London W1, www.photonet.org.uk

Popular with Beirut’s writers, musicians, artists and left-wing intellectuals, Rawda is almost always packed. But now all has changed, reflecting a potential shift in the city’s cultural tendencies.

A new owner, son of the previous one, has taken over and banned alcohol. No Almaza, not even a glass of cool arak to be found and, evidently a religious man, he has installed a ladies prayer area too. This is much to the chagrin of the regulars. “Rawda is practically my second home,” says Rafik Majzoub, a Jordanian-Lebanese artist and poet. “Almaza here on the corniche is just the way it is. I can’t believe it.”

Word on the street is that the owner couldn’t care less about his loyal artist-intellectual-leftist customers and wants a more religious clientele. It has worked: the crowd has changed and there are numerous tourists from the Gulf sitting in the chairs last perched upon by local professors. It raises the question: are Arab tourist dollars from the famously conservative Gulf states going to change forever the famously liberal party town that is Beirut, the Paris of the Med?

Rawda Café, Corniche, Manara, +961 (1) 743 348. Open 8am to midnight daily.

“It feels like this is the end. We’re selling out,” exclaimed Venetian photographer Manuel Vecchina when he first heard about the sponsorship deal between the city of Venice and drinks giant Coca-Cola. The agreement, which will bring €2.1 million over a five-year period to Venice’s always cash-strapped administration, calls for the positioning of 60 vending machines in different city spots, selling drinks cans for €2. The city will also get royalties from sales: the money will go towards the restoration of endangered artistic heritage.“Both Venice and Coca-Cola are global brands,” declared Umberto Collesei, professor of marketing at the University of Venice, “and allowing sponsorship to restore a city’s art treasures is a classic marketing operation.” Mayor Massimo Cacciari assured citizens that, in order to preserve the city’s looks, machines will be placed “discreetly”, mainly at waterbus stops and around Piazzale Roma’s parking spaces. But most citizens still feel like Venice is selling its soul. And those with a sense of irony couldn’t help but link the Mayor’s decision to fill Venice with drinks distributors with the recent price increase for the city’s public toilets, which now charge €1.50 for a single visit. Venice cashes in, both ways.

Dressed in jeans, a low-cut top and heels – her nod to her star status being the obligatory pair of oversized designer shades – she apologises in advance. A transatlantic flight has seen to it that she’s suffering from jetlag. “This is the hour that really gets you,” she says, flinging a window open in the hope a gust of wind might revive her. Not that she’s going to let a little thing like tiredness creep into our encounter: after 13 years in the business, in which time she’s garnered two Oscar nominations and one win, the statuesque South African is too much of a pro for that.

Dazzling to look at (even when she’s sleepy), what’s heartening is that she’s also straightforward when you meet, as we’ve done on a number of occasions over the years from Cannes to the Venice film festivals and more recently in London. Far removed from the uninspiring women she began her career playing before winning an Oscar for 2003’s Monster, she claims she’s in a constant state of evolution. “There are certain qualities I still have from when I was six years old,” she says, now 33. “I like that about myself and I try and stay true to those because that’s the core of me as a human being. I celebrate growing as a person every single day of my life. I try and do that as much as possible. But the core of me, to be honest, is exactly the same as it was. I’m still a farm girl.”

Raised on a homestead in Benoni, just outside of Johannesburg, where her father, Charles, ran a road construction business, Theron’s early life was blissful. A “hyperactive” child, her mother Gerda “threw her into the arts” when she was young, whether it was studying ballet or taking ice-skating lessons. “I did everything possible just to keep my mind busy,” she says. Yet it’s not this for which her upbringing is remembered. Tragedy struck when she was 15, when she heard her mother shoot her father dead after he went on an armed, drunken rampage through the family home.

Theron says it was the defining event of her life, but she claims to have drawn on it in a positive manner. “[Very early] I knew the value of life and I knew how quickly it could be taken away,” she says. Leaving South Africa after winning a local modelling contest, she spent a year in Milan striding down catwalks with those stunning legs of hers before heading to New York. Desperate to pursue a childhood dream, she joined the prestigious Joffrey Ballet Company, only for further tragedy to strike, when a knee injury dashed her hopes of being a dancer. Switching tack, she headed straight to Hollywood, after her mother bought her a one-way ticket to Los Angeles.

Eight months later, her luck turned. Comically, it was when she threw a hissy fit in a bank queue after a teller refused to cash a cheque. She was overheard by legendary agent John Crosby, who gave her his card. Within months she was cast as the silver catsuit-wearing vixen in thriller 2 Days In The Valley. Still, while her blonde locks and lithe limbs ensured she was never short of work, she was too often pigeonholed, playing eye-candy in films like The Devil’s Advocate and The Astronaut’s Wife. She admits she had something to prove back then. “In my twenties, I had to walk into the room like a cannonball! I don’t do that today. But that hunger is still there to do something that is intriguing.”

Her latest attempt to do this is The Burning Plain. The directorial debut of Guillermo Arriaga, the Oscar-nominated screenwriter of Babel and 21 Grams, Theron plays Sylvia, a chic restaurant manager in Oregon who, it’s gradually revealed, is a self-loathing sex addict. It’s not the first time she’s dealt with the darker side of sex. In North Country, which afforded her a second Oscar nomination, she played the victim of sexual discrimination, while her take on Britt Ekland in The Life and Death of Peter Sellers didn’t flinch from examining the starlet’s abusive relationship with the titular comedian.

Still, neither character compares to the hollow shell of a woman she plays in Arriaga’s melodrama. While Sylvia holds a guilty secret from her past, which is only revealed through a complex series of flashbacks, Theron carries off the role with great dignity, her body language pregnant with pain in every scene. It’s emotionally exhausting to watch; I ask whether she found it a hard role to play. “Look – it’s hard for me to use the word ‘hard’ for anything,” she says. “Because guess what? I’m not lugging steel or rocks out of a mine, and I’m not working construction. That’s hard. You have obstacles and some days are really hard but it actually…” She tails off, point made.

For Theron, the film was also another chance to explore a different side to her: that of producer. Unlike most Hollywood stars, her production company Denver and Delilah Films (named after her two cocker spaniels) is no protracted vanity project. Rather, she seems intent on producing films she cares about. First there was Monster, then the credible Cuban hip-hop documentary East of Havana and more recently, the family drama Sleepwalking. “You know, 10 years ago, I never knew I would be a producer. I didn’t have that interest,” she says. It was coming into contact with producers that sparked her interest. “I went, ‘What is happening to this industry? How does it work?’ Through that fascination, I learned and I felt, ‘I can do this. I can produce.’”

As an executive producer on The Burning Plain – usually a credit given to financiers who have little creative input – Theron was anything but a silent partner. Calling her “a brilliant, intelligent and charming woman,” Arriaga testifies to this. “It’s beautiful to fight with her,” he grins. “She was very committed to the film.” Theron recommended to Arriaga the costume designer Cindy Evans, whom she’d worked with on North Country, and, more importantly, suggested Kim Basinger for the role of Sylvia’s mother. While they had never worked together before (and don’t share scenes here), it’s evident Theron sees something of herself in Basinger. After all, both women began their careers as the bombshell-for-hire in blockbuster fodder before gaining critical respect (Basinger winning an Oscar for LA Confidential).

“There’s something about Kim,” says Theron. “There’s a strength – especially now at her age, more than when she was working in her thirties – with this leftover vulnerability from her twenties that’s just unbelievably beautiful to watch. And you can’t manufacture that. There are moments on screen when she’s shaking, her entire body is shaking for real. You can’t fake that.” It’s almost as if Theron is talking about herself: at her best, the South African offers a mixture of strength and vulnerability on celluloid that suggests she can now be thought of alongside peers Kate Winslet and Cate Blanchett as one of the finest actresses of her generation.

Much of this stems from her performance as real-life serial killer Aileen Wuornos in Monster. With the help of 30lbs in weight, prosthetics and fake teeth, Theron immersed herself so thoroughly in the role it rightly earned her comparisons to Robert De Niro’s work in Raging Bull. The subsequent Oscar win was a foregone conclusion, though Theron denies this. “You can’t go into it with this fantasy idea that you’re going to come home with the Oscar. You’re going to a party, someone’s going to give you a really nice dress, the champagne is free… those are the only guarantees. And hopefully your boyfriend will go home with you.”

Inevitably she made the almost obligatory post-Oscar misstep that afflicts most actresses (Halle Berry, anyone?), following Monster with the disastrous sci-fi movie Aeon Flux. But overnight, Hollywood saw Theron in a new light – though this was not, she notes, due to the Oscar itself. “I think playing Aileen Wuornos changed my career. Winning the Academy Award is great, and it means great things for the studios and box office. I’m not belittling it. But I think that even if I didn’t win or get nominated, and that movie had gone straight to DVD, directors would’ve watched that work. It would’ve definitely changed opinions.”

While she’s not adverse to the occasional blockbuster, such as last year’s hit Will Smith vehicle Hancock, everything about Theron now suggests an earnest desire to be taken seriously. Outside of her acting, she has been a rape crisis campaigner in South Africa for 11 years, and was recently recruited by Ban Ki-moon, the Secretary-General of the UN, to be an official Messenger of Peace in the region. Although she gained American citizenship in 2007 (and has dual passports) she claims she’s still very tied to her homeland. “All of my actor friends have gone to South Africa to do a film. I never have but I’d love to!”

Still based in Los Angeles, Theron lives with her partner, Irish actor Stuart Townsend. They have been together since meeting on 2002 thriller Trapped, and subsequently worked on World War II romantic drama Head in the Clouds and Townsend’s own directorial debut, the politically charged true-life tale Battle in Seattle. Admitting she “never dreamed of the white dress” when she was young, in the past Theron has said that she and Townsend would never officially tie the knot until gay and lesbian couples in America enjoy the same rights as heterosexuals. “I want to be clear about this,” she says. “I am not judgmental about marriage. But I am judgmental about how our government doesn’t want to see the reality of gay and lesbian marriages.”

In her mind, she’s married to Townsend in all but name anyway. During a press conference for The Burning Plain, she had to bat away an advance from a rather-too-amorous journalist. “You’re very cute,” she quipped, demonstrating a sense of fun that is sometimes obscured by her heavyweight CV. “But my boyfriend will kill you. I’m married. I’m taken.” Back home, she says they lead the simple life – gardening, going to the beach and walking their dogs – rather than promoting themselves as a party-hopping celebrity couple. As for kids, she says: “I just know in my bones I want to be a mom one day – but I don’t know when it’s going to happen.”

For the moment, her work is what absorbs her. She’s next up in The Road, a bleak apocalyptic tale based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy, in which she co-stars with Viggo Mortensen. All she’s looking for is a fresh challenge every time she steps in front of the camera. “Every work I leave behind definitely changes me and makes me think about myself differently.” Like Kim Basinger, Theron looks set to be around for a long time to come.  James Mottram is Marie Claire’s film critic and writes for The Independent. The Burning Plain is released on DVD on 24 August. The Road will be released later in the year.

Like the wait for a British tennis champion at Wimbledon, it’s been far too long since the UK last competed for top honours in the sports car sector. While Andy Murray is doing his best to change the first part of that statement, one of Britain’s most famous motoring marques, Lotus, has just launched a serious contender in the other.

The Evora is the Norfolk-based company’s first all-new production car since the Elise in 1995. And it’s a bona fide Porsche predator. At an on-sale price of £49,875, the Evora sits between Porsche’s Cayman and 911 models – but it certainly doesn’t fall between two stools.

This is a vehicle with the handling attributes of a proper sports car allied with the high-end trim levels you associate with top GTs like the BMW M3. Lotus claim this is the only mid-engined 2+2 you can buy. It means that its power unit – a 3.5-litre Toyota engine which Lotus has modified – sits in front of the rear axle and there are two smaller seats in the back. It’s not quite a family car, but it’s no impractical two-seater either.

But driving fun is best achieved when on your own, when you can push a car to its limits. And what limits. The 0-62mph mark is reached in just 4.9 seconds, the same as a 911 Carrera and, despite the engine size and claimed top speed of 162mph, the combined economy figures are a respectable 32.5mpg. To top it all off, that engine makes the most delicious din, a rasping, baritone growl which Lotus says is as loud as government legislation will allow.

The Lotus Evora is making a lot of noise in more ways than one.

But the two have collaborated to launch an altogether different product line: Valigia Peroni by Antonio Berardi. This month they are unveiling the first product in the line, a limited edition weekend case. It follows on from previous one-off collaborations between Peroni and the London-based Italian designer (pictured left) who wanted to work on projects that “showcased old-fashioned Italian craftsmanship”.

And at £700, this piece of carry-on luggage surely has to be utterly different to anything else. Heck, at that price, you practically want it to pack itself.

“But it is unlike any other case,” Berardi insists, when we met to look at a design prototype. “It’s made of highest quality Italian leather in the hand-rolled traditional technique. The inside, which is lined with malt-coloured suede, has been divided into sections for shirts, shoes, underwear, socks and toiletries. But when you’re returning from a trip, I really don’t like the way that dirty laundry is mixed in with clean clothes so we have a separate section for that.”

The inspiration for the model is part old-school Italian glamour (“I was thinking of the way that Ava Gardner and Gina Lollobrigida used to travel,” says Berardi) and part modern male sensibilities. “I’m a Captain Cautious when it comes to packing – taking far more than I end up using. So I needed a case that almost did the thinking for me.”

The Berardi limited edition weekend bag is available exclusively from www.yoox.com this month

At the foot of the Alps, beside Lake Geneva, lies one of Europe’s most picturesque mountain towns.

With its fresh mountain breezes, pretty shoreline and a population of just 20,000, Montreux is a Swiss idyll. Yet once a year this chocolate box resort is thronged with music-worshipping pilgrims who have come for one purpose only: to listen to jazz music. Or not listen to jazz, as it happens. Though the festival was founded in 1967 and has drawn such jazz greats as Miles Davis, Nina Simone and John Coltrane, it now embraces a wide spectrum of musical genres. This July you are just as likely to hear hip-hop and heavy metal as swing time or bebop.

What’s more, Montreux’s surprising position in the live music circuit can be put down to one tenacious, jazz-mad local, whose determination brought some of the greatest recording artists of the 20th century to the land of the cuckoo clock: the distinctly un-jazzily named Claude Nobs.

Nobs’s musical odyssey began in the mid-1960s, when he traded his chef’s apprenticeship for a day job at the Swiss tourist board. Asked by his boss for an initiative to promote the then-overlooked resort of Montreux, Nobs came back from a trip to the States to announce, somewhat improbably, that he wanted to launch a black music festival.

Though his plans were approved by the tourist board, Nobs faced a far stiffer challenge: to persuade big-name American artists to travel to the backwater of a small European state and perform for a fee that was, by American standards, small change. The considerable charm possessed by Nobs, a down-to-earth baker’s son, seems to have served him well in this regard. In 1970, the cocksure promoter travelled to New York to persuade Nesuhi Ertegun, a partner in Atlantic Records, to lend a hand.

“He showed up at the headquarters of Atlantic, with no meeting arranged, and just said ‘I want to see Nesuhi Ertegun.’ His secretary asked: ‘Do you know him?’ and Nobs replied: ‘Yes, his name is on all my favourite LPs,’” recalls Mathieu Jaton, the festival’s current director. Apparently Nobs asked the secretary to let Ertegun know that a young Swiss German was interested in speaking to him; Ertegun, the son of the Turkish ambassador to Switzerland, had studied in Berne. The tactic worked: Ertegun was intrigued and agreed to a meeting with Nobs. “That helped the festival a lot, in terms of having big stars,” says Jaton.

Aretha Franklin was one such diva to make it to Montreux in 1971. The story goes, however, that she only agreed to perform after Nobs delivered a box of Swiss chocolates to her. Meanwhile, Miles Davis, the legendary jazz trumpeter – with a giant ego to match – played his first concert at Montreux in 1973 (his final concert there in 1992 became one of Montreux’s most famous; he died two months later) but legend has it that he originally rebuffed one of Nobs’s invitations to perform with the words: “Your offer is an insult to my talent and my colour.” Nobs duly wrote back, listing the proportion of black artists who were appearing at the festival (over 90 percent), his overall budget and all the fees he had to pay out. Davis wrote back: “Apologies. Of course I’m coming.”

Yet flicking through the line-up for 2009, you discover that shoulder to shoulder with jazz master Herbie Hancock and blues legend BB King are Black Eyed Peas, Lily Allen, Marianne Faithful, even that lipsticked purveyor of shock rock Alice Cooper.

“Jazz is first and foremost a way of thinking,” says Jaton. “Our line-up this year contains people who have a way of playing that is ‘jazz’. There are elements of jazz in their music or the spirit of jazz.”

Of course, jazz purists may sniff at such a liberal interpretation of their beloved art form, but Montreux has gone from strength to strength in its 43-year history, thanks to its open-minded policy of inviting artists who in some way nod to jazz. Appearing alongside fabled chanteuses like Ella Fitzgerald or jazz geniuses like John Coltrane has proven to be an irresistible lure for artists from as diverse fields as country, folk, R&B and rock.

As a result the festival has seen everyone from Chuck Berry, Dizzy Gillespie, Ray Charles, James Brown, Leonard Cohen and Van Morrison to Led Zeppelin, Frank Zappa, Prince and Bob Dylan.

“What we have at Montreux is a vast amount of history,” says Jaton. “When we’ve had Miles Davis and Nina Simone play here, people say: ‘Wow, they went there, I want to be a part of it.’”

The festival has preserved its more memorable performances by recording and filming all live concerts. Nobs began this practice as a way of creating an extensive audio and video archive; it remains the biggest of any festival in the world. When an artist signs up to appear at Montreux they also must agree to be recorded. The performers are, of course, free to use that recording for their own live album, and dozens have done so, including Johnny Cash, Eric Clapton, Marvin Gaye and Deep Purple.

The 43rd festival, like most of its predecessors, boasts an incredible international lineup. Along with the queue-swelling concerts of Solomon Burke, Kool and the Gang, Seal and Jamie Cullum, there are music workshops, boat trips and train rides where jazz bands will entertain you along your journey, plus nightclubs where electro, hip hop and house will keep revellers entertained until dawn.

But does Montreux still need its ‘jazz’ moniker, after all this diversification? “In 1976, Claud decided to remove the term jazz from the festival, but it was a disaster,” says Jaton. “The backlash was that artists no longer wanted to come. The fact that the festival is so associated with jazz and jazz greats like Miles Davis is part of the attraction. Jazz is like a tattoo that we can’t remove.” 

The Montreux Jazz Festival takes place 3-18 July, www.montreuxjazz.com. Montreux is a three-hour train journey from Zurich International airport