1. Betty Carter

“Thou Swell” (from Social Call, Columbia). Carter, vocal; Ray Bryant, piano; Wendell Marshall, bass; Jo Jones, drums. Recorded in 1955.

Betty, man. She was so friggin’ underrated. She was a genius. I mean, just the way she heard music and how she could take a simple song like “Thou Swell” and turn it into a masterpiece of the moment. The trio was so tight and she just floats on top of it like a horn. People say they’re inspired by Ella, Sarah and Billie, but she’s my main inspiration.

Why?

She was a part of the band and yet, she led the band. She produced her own music, had her own label. She did her own distribution with Bet-Car Productions. If I’m producing today it’s because of Betty Carter.

Did you get to know her?

Yeah, I spent time with her. I was her shadow for the first two years that I was in New York. Even when I was doing The Wiz, wherever she was performing in New York, if I could go, I’d go. And I’d always go by myself because I didn’t want to be disturbed. I went to her home when she was living in Brooklyn, next to the Brooklyn Academy of Music. She used to waylay me, the way she contorted her body. She went through a period when she was toying with singing behind the beat, and she would be so far behind that I’d think she was lost, but the band kept playing and then bam, she was right there. I love Betty Carter. Thank you. That was a great way to start.

2. Ray Brown/Milt Jackson

“I’m Going To Live The Life I Sing About In My Song” (from Much In Common, Verve). Brown, bass; Jackson, vibes; Marion Williams, vocal;  Wild Bill Davis, organ; Kenny Burrell, guitar; Albert “Tootie” Heath. Recorded in 1964.

Before: Mm…woo! I don’t know who this is. Got church. Uh, huh. The voice kind of reminds me of Mahalia Jackson; an amazing voice and great control. She doesn’t even have to force her voice. She’s got the feeling. I love the music. I like the churchiness of the organ and the jazz vibe on top. It’s fabulous. It’s a great amalgam of gospel, blues and jazz. But this is a gospel singer. Woo, I get goosebumps. Who is this?

After: This is Marion Williams? Wow. The combination was great. What an incredible voice. Fantastic. She took me to church. She was uplifting. And the way she used her vibrato with such control, it made me feel like, wow, I wish I could sing like that. I hear joy in her voice, but it’s a spiritual joy. Thad Jones told me to never listen to singers so that I could develop my own voice, so I never really did. But listening to her, I need to download that, get that album. What a wonderful surprise. What have I been missing? I was raised Catholic, so I didn’t join a black church till I was an adult in my late 20s, early 30s. I always felt growing up that I had missed part of the black experience because of where I went to school; I was one of only 3 or 4 black kids. I always loved gospel. So I want to deal with that. I could listen to this on the [tour] bus.

3 Joe Williams with Thad Jones & Mel Lewis Orchestra

“Get Out My Life Woman” (from Presenting Joe Williams and Thad Jones/Mel Lewis, The Jazz Orchestra, Solid State). Williams, vocal; Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra. Recorded in 1966.

[immediately starts to clap and sing along with the arrangement] Yes, baby! I’m lucky I got to sing this arrangement. Joe was so bad. Hey! [whooping and hollering]. Yes, Joe. Hey, baby, wow! This is the music that formed me. That band, the way that Thad could dissect a big band and give you these mini ensemble things. I just watched him take arrangements and totally redo them as the band was playing. He was brilliant. It makes me feel like I need to go back and listen to Thad some more because he shaped my whole notion of sound. If I go back and listen to his albums it might help to give me some more clarity for explaining how I’d like arrangements done. His arrangements never felt boxed in. They were liberating. As a singer, you have this amazing cushion of sound that would push you along and get you excited. He provided all these colors and you just had to go with it. And I always thought Thad & Mel with Joe Williams was such a great pairing. Joe never tried to do vocal gymnastics. He’d just tell the story with a great sense of rhythm. It was like molasses on top that dripped all into the seams. So the combination was great.

When you were with Thad & Mel, did Thad tailor his arrangements to suit your voice?

I sang “Get Out My Life” with them, but I didn’t sing it like that. That was funky. Thad was funky.

As a musician, or as a person?

Both. He was such a character. He and Elvin were alike. Their personalities were larger than life with those big laughs. When they walked into a space, they just took the space. They became the center, the light, the focus. Thad was very charismatic; a big man, barrel-chested, he would hug you. Hank was always cool and dapper and restrained. I miss Joe Williams. He had the blues and the jazz and an amazing instrument. He always sang with such ease. He would stand there, totally debonair and soulful.

4 Victor Wooten

“Get It Right” (from Words and Tones, Vix). Wooten, Meshell Ndegeocello, bass; Rod McGaha, trumpet; Joseph Wooten, keyboards; Derico Watson, drums. Released in 2012.

Before: Like the bass. Oh, I like the mix, all the layers. I like how she’s got the bass out front but not too out front. I love the song, I love Michelle’s playing, I love the lyric. But I love how the bass is right in the center with all these layers around it. And everything is so clear. Mixing is so important to me, so that was very cool. I’ve never listened to Michelle. I played with her; we were part of an evening at the Barbican in London called Me and Billie with Amy Winehouse before she blew up, and Neneh Cherry and Fontella Bass.

After: So this is Victor Wooten’s record? Is this new? I don’t know him at all, just the name. Can I hear this again? The drummer is great. I like that music has morphed into something jazzy, funky, so you don’t always know what it is. But this is Michelle singing, right? [starts singing along on the chorus]. It’s just cool. I like this a lot. It’s very today with a subtle jazzy thing under it. But you’d have to be from jazz to hear that. To another ear, like a hip-hop ear, they’d just say, “Oh, man, this is some bad shit.” But I love the mix. I work with Al Schmidt on my records and he’s made me acutely aware of such things. And like I say, I don’t really know Michelle. I worked with her once and she had some ego issues and we had to talk, then she was ok. Victor-who has he played with? I’ve got to check him out. As a jazz musician, if I wanted to open up, I’d go that way. I really like that. Lot of substance there. I’m a new fan. You’re taking me to school today.

5 Sarah Vaughan

“If You Could See Me Now” (from The Chronological Sarah Vaughan, 1944-46, Classics). Vaughan, vocal; Tadd Dameron Orchestra with Freddy Webster, trumpet solo. Recorded in 1946.

Before: I’ve heard this. As she got older her sound got a little thicker [demonstrates]. I think this was on a compilation of her music that I did for Verve; I chose this. Her voice here is lighter. It didn’t have that operatic quality that you heard in later years. But there’s something in the timbre of her voice that was Sassy. She had a wonderful rhythmic sense, and a wonderful range. For me, she was a musician. She didn’t have to always embellish a melody because her voice was such a beautiful instrument. That was the thing I liked about Sarah. A song that comes to mind is her version of “Send In The Clowns.”  Her voice was like velvet. But this voice, the younger Sassy, is such a pure sound. And it’s a real voice. It’s not contrived at all.

Did you get to know her?

Yeah. First of all she had that little girl speaking voice [imitates it]. She came to see me one time and I was performing at Paul’s Mall in Boston. I was opening for B.B. and she came down with [trumpeter and husband] Waymon Reed. She came backstage and said, “Now I understand, you do sound like me.” And I said, “Really?” I would always go to see her at the Rainbow Grill, I’d get all dressed up.

Do you think you sounded like her?

No, I didn’t think so. Maybe I could hear where somebody else could hear her in me. Like, I didn’t think I sounded like Ella, or any of these women I’ve been compared to. I can sound like Billie Holiday, but that’s because I studied her to do the play. So I can talk like her. But Sassy, velvet.

If she were here today, what would you want to talk with her about?

[long pause] If she were here today, I’d like to talk to her about female things. How it was for her being on the road. How did she deal with her loneliness? How did she deal with having a man in her life, or not having a man? I’d want to ask her personal stuff. I had a wonderful evening with Ella in the early 80s in Tokyo. I went to see her after doing Sophisticated Ladies and I went backstage because I’d never met her. I knocked and Norman Granz opened the door. I introduced myself and he said, “Dee Dee, I know who you are. Come on in here.” I was really shy. I still am but I know how to mask it.

So what did you talk to Ella about?

How did she pack all those gowns? Her dressing room looked like a giant wardrobe closet. I found out she had a companion who traveled with her and took care of her gowns and laid them out for her, got them all fluffed up and ready and steamed and all that. Then they’d get together and decide what she’d wear based on what she felt like that night. That was a luxury. I don’t have that luxury [chuckles]. We talked about how hard it was being on the road. She shared with me that she thought she was not a good mother to Ray Jr. because she was on the road so much. She talked about how exhausting it was and reminded me I needed to get my sleep. I felt like I was talking to someone in my family, like she was an auntie giving me advice. We talked for about 45 minutes. Then, I went to see her in Paris and I took notes on the songs she sang, how long she allowed for solos, how she segued from one song to another. In another conversation she said: “Take care of your children. Don’t leave your children. Take them with you.” She was really tired of the road, then. She said it’s so lonely out here.

6 Gregory Porter

“Be Good (Lion’s Song)” (from Be Good, Motema). Porter, vocal; Chip Crawford, piano; Aaron James, bass; Emanuel Harrold, drums; Keyon Harrold, trumpet; Yosuke Sato, alto saxophone; Tivon Pennicott, tenor saxophone. Recorded in 2012.

Oh, I love Gregory. He’s great. He makes me cry. You know what he is? He’s hope. We haven’t had a male singer like him in a long time. He’s such a wonderful writer. He tells these great stories. There’s a soulfulness to his voice, I don’t know what it is about Gregory Porter that makes me cry [with tears in her eyes], but it’s a joyful thing. I’m a huge fan. I love watching him live. He’s like a modern Leon Thomas. He reminds me of the 70s brought forward. He’s just precious to me. He’s got a timbre in his voice that reminds me of Kurt [Elling] a little bit; God–I love Kurt. I feel like Gregory’s an old spirit reborn. He’s like a composite of a lot of great black men. I feel there’s hope for the black man, there’s hope for the black male singer. We’re not going to be buried in the whole new whitewashing of jazz music. I can’t explain it because I’m still trying to figure it out. I’m going to ask him to do a duet with me on this blues project I’m working on. I’m even thinking of asking him to write with me. I like stories. I like telling stories, and he’s a storyteller. I like imagery, like comparing himself here to the lion in the cage. I love that kind of stuff. And his voice is smooth with just a little bit of an edge. It speaks to that feminine wile in every woman I know. He makes us swoon. He projects this gentle giant, and he’s a good-looking man. He’s like, the whole thing.

7 Nat Cole

“Azure-te” (from Nat King Cole Sings/George Shearing Plays, Capitol). Cole, vocal, Shearing, piano, Ralph Carmichael, arrangement. Recorded in 1961.

I love strings. I was thinking I grew up seeing this man on TV, this man with this voice that captivated people all around the world. And I’m thinking I don’t know anything about him and how he was able to get through the crack of the time that he grew up in, to be accepted and to be regarded as just a great voice and a great musician without any regard for his color. And he was a dark skinned man, which usually is more threatening. Even today, in the 21^st Century, we don’t have a black man hosting a show with his musical background and guests on who sing with him. We don’t have that. He and Louis Armstrong were the two great ambassadors of music that this country had, for diplomacy, for racial integration. So it’s interesting that listening to this I go there instead of the music. At my point of consciousness today, when I hear this man and his music, I think, my goodness, what was his life like? What did he have to go through? How brave he must have been. You know? It makes me want to read his biography to know more about him. Musically, there’s nothing else to say. He’s withstood the test of time. He made it possible for us to dream on so many levels. Then I’m thinking about that song and he’s singing about Paris and I’m thinking; now why did I leave Paris? [laughs] But I know why I left.

8 José James

“Sword + Gun” (from No Beginning No End, Blue Note). James, Hindi Zahra, vocal; Robert Glasper, keyboard; Pino Palladino, bass; Chris Dave, drums. Released in 2013.

Before: I don’t like the mix. Is this John Legend? José James? [listens for a while]. Does it go somewhere else? Ok, this is a problem I have with the young children today. It’s like they create a mood. They create a vibe and they give you a light story in the beginning, and then it’s all about mood and it just doesn’t go anywhere for me. The song isn’t strong enough to be a song on its own. And I don’t like the mix; it’s muddy. He was at Monterey when we were there and I stopped for a second and it just didn’t hold me, so I kept going.

After: I know there’s a lot of buzz around him and I think that’s great for him, and I’m sure he’s got his niche. I respect him, but he just doesn’t move me.

9 Arthur Prysock

“You Could Have Told Me” (from Arthur Prysock Count Basie, Verve). Prysock, vocal; Basie, organ; Count Basie Orchestra. Recorded in 1966.

[immediately] Is this Arthur? My mama listened to Arthur Prysock. What a man, what a man, what a mighty fine man. Listen at that voice. Woo! One of our great crooners. Doesn’t he sound like a sax? Makes me want to have a cigarette, and I don’t smoke [laughter]. He’s making me cross my legs. Mm, mm. We don’t use organ like we used to. Just tasty. You don’t hear people talk about Arthur Prysock. He was one of my mama’s favorite singers, so we had a lot of Arthur Prysock records. I remember he came to a supper club in Windsor. Chile, my mama just about had a cow. She told my father: “Matthew, you’d better take me to see Arthur Prysock.” I remember they came back and my mama was in heaven. My father looked disgusted [laughs]. It’s that sound, that voice, and when he went in to the baritone register, ooh. There’s a certain timbre that if a man has it, chile, we fall at their feet. We were talking about that on the bus last night, about Barry White and Isaac Hayes and Teddy Pendergrass cause we were watching some Soul Train videos that Christian [McBride] brought on the bus. I was telling them, you all don’t understand. It’s a female thing. We become like putty. I remember going to those concerts and women throwing their panties on the stage. It makes our legs go [makes a playful erotic gesture]. It’s the mighty V [!!]. Arthur Prysock was a great singer, great sense of time; Just a clean voice. No acrobatics necessary. That’s also a great song. Songs were written to have a climax. That’s why we don’t have great songs today. Now, it’s all about a groove. The story is now just an introduction to the groove. That’s José. Prysock just had a great, great voice. I think if kids would check out an Arthur Prysock, a Joe Williams, a Billy Eckstine, it might influence them to write some songs again. You’ve got someone with a great instrument today, like a Mariah Carey, and it’s all groove. Where’re the great songs? I’m not excited with the new crop of singers with their light, ethereal voices. I need some meat on the bone. Arthur Prysock? Yeah, man. Fantastic singer. I asked my mother why he wasn’t as popular as Billy Eckstine. She said Billy was cuter. He was gorgeous, but I thought Arthur Prysock was handsome.

10 Billie Holiday

“Everything Happens To Me” (from Rare Live Recordings 1934-1959, ESP). Holiday vocal; Jimmy Rowles, piano, Artie Bernstein, bass. Recorded 1955.

Where’d you find this? She could take any song, and once she sang it…this is, wow. Is that Jimmy [Rowles]? What is that?

It’s a rehearsal.

Get out of here. I need that. It’s like being there with her. It’s interesting when Jimmy Rowles suggested she sing that phrase differently. I know when we did the Billy record, the guys would go off into a corner and listen to her phrasing and analyze it, along with what the musicians did behind her. I said to the guys, really? Why do you do that? So hearing Jimmy make that suggestion was like opening the window a little crack. It was also interesting because I’ve listened to her so much that I can anticipate how she’s gonna phrase. So I did a serious analysis in the four months I did her. Listening to this reminded me of Thad’s advice; don’t listen to singers. If I had listened to Billie, I would have sung like Billie. My ear is like a sponge and I’m good at imitating. So listening to that brought it all back to me. She had such an unusual voice. Just the sound of it, and the texture of it after the drugging, smoking and drinking, gave it an interesting quality. It was nasal and whiny and husky, but she had a way of phrasing that was unique to her. Her sense of timing was impeccable. She is singularly the jazz singer who has influenced the most jazz singers. When you talk to pop singers, if they’ve listened to anyone in jazz, they’ve listened to Billie Holiday. I don’t know if it’s the pathos in her life, or the aura she’s been given. There’s Billie Holiday, there’s James Dean, there’s Marilyn Monroe. There’s this myth around her. And it keeps drawing every generation to these myths. I don’t know what it is. I’m fascinated with it too.

So what speaks to you about Billie?

It’s the sensibility of the woman. I don’t listen to Billie. When I listen to Billie I get sad. I think she was a woman who died so young, 49. She had such a hard life and she was a militant, kind of a rebel during her time period. And I just can’t imagine living how she lived. Can you imagine driving in a car down the road in the South and seeing black bodies strung up, that have been lynched, that have been hung? And this is your view going to the venue where you’re supposed to perform, not being allowed in the front door, and then being relegated to having to find a place to stay every night? Now what does that do to one’s psyche? I hear anger in her voice. I hear frustration in her voice, I hear hurt. I hear so many things and it conjures up so much that it’s hard for me to listen to.  She’s hard for me to listen to like Abbey Lincoln is hard for me to listen to. I feel that Abbey is the extension of Billie. Abbey was more prolific as a fighter, but Billie wrote “God Bless The Child.” I couldn’t sing for 4 months after I did the play. She consumed me. I was truly possessed by Billie Holiday, so I don’t like to go to that place. When I listen to Billie, it dredges up stuff that I’ve tried to push into a dark, dark corner of my life.

Some recordings that changed your life?

Nina Simone’s Four Women. Aretha, all of Aretha. Now that’s a voice. I’ve had experiences with her, personally. She’s quite a character. And Tina Turner; I just love the grit in her voice. I love the woman. She’s about survival and sticking to her guns. She did amazing things with her limited vocal range. She knows how to work what she has and she’s this bigger than life person to me.

This piece originally appeared in the May, 2013 issue of JazzTimes. Photographs by Larry Appelbaum

Tell us about the group Paraphrase. What do you see as the musical direction of this trio?

We had played together in different situations, always playing written music and improvising. We decided to depart from that strategy and just improvise. So we really don’t know what we’re going to do [laughs].

There’s no repertoire at all?

No, there isn’t. That’s the whole point of this group, I guess. We were curious to see what would happen if we committed to this strategy, because whenever we get together, we just play, and it was always fun. So we decided to do some touring and it’s not a whole lot different. It’s a little scarier, but the ratio of hits and misses seems to be about the same. We’re all pretty hard on ourselves anyway. It’s been interesting.

Some of our younger listeners may not know much about you. Tell us a little about your own background and what drew you to music.

Well, I was a real avid fan. I bought a lot of records and I used to go to New York a lot from Syracuse. I’d drive in to see concerts by Sam Rivers, McCoy Tyner, Sun Ra, and I was so into it that I felt like I wanted to be involved a little more. So I got a saxophone and got into playing and then moved to New York. I thought if I took lessons, I’d have to get serious. So I started taking lessons around ’74; a few with Anthony Braxton, and then I started studying with Julius Hemphill. I just started getting into it and I began writing music pretty fast because all my role models, my heroes, wrote music So I figured that’s what everyone did. I didn’t really know a lot about–I didn’t have a lot of information but somehow maybe I had a knack for organizing ideas, just using Anthony and Julius as a model for that. Then it was just sheer determination, I guess. But I always knew I didn’t want to have a job, so it seemed like a good field [laughs].

You mentioned studying with Braxton and Hemphill. What did that mean, exactly? Was it the experience of playing with them on a regular basis, or did they sit down and explain their systems?

It wasn’t even that. I was a beginner. With Braxton, it was like with any teacher; do this, do that.

Like mechanics?

Yeah, yeah. With Julius it probably should have been that, but we got into different things because he wasn’t really symmetrical as a person; Meaning he wasn’t going to really lay it out [in a linear way]. It was more everything at once, including things that he was thinking about, and musical problems he was faced with. So the first conversation we had was about magic in music. I was pretty much confused for quite a while, but intrigued because I admired him so much.

What was he getting at?

To make a long story short, when you’re playing improvised music with people, particularly when it’s not based on strict forms, and even when it is, there’s a certain chemistry that you have with some people and you don’t have it with others. You can’t really define it intellectually. It just happens. It’s the same thing with this group; we play 10 nights in a row and maybe 5 of the nights really stand out. There’s a magic that happens and we can’t predict it. We can’t define it but we can recognize it when it’s happening. You just know it. And that’s what Julius was talking about. It’s interesting, and if you’re a beginning musician, a beginning saxophonist, that’s a pretty wild concept. But we also dealt with tone and the nuts and bolts. It just wasn’t in a chronological order. You know what I mean? It wasn’t laid out for me. And part of his thing was teaching me how to think for myself. A lot of teachers pretty much tell you the way it is and then you buy it. But he gave me options and said you can figure it out for yourself.

You’ve been playing professionally now for 20 years. What do you think are the qualities of a good leader?

[long pause] Patience. Confidence. I think you have to be very open. It depends. For me, it helps to be open to other people’s ideas. I’m a pretty benign dictator. I studied to be a schoolteacher and I think most people like being involved in the process. It should be a partnership, even if you’re the teacher or the leader. So the more people feel a part of it, the harder they work. I’m sure in any job it’s the same thing; sports, whatever.

Are you an organized person, generally?

In my mind I am [chuckles]. If you walk into my room or my studio, it doesn’t appear that way. But I’m very organized; otherwise I’d never finish most of these things. I definitely wouldn’t have a label.

That’s why I’m asking. You’re not just a professional musician. You also run your own record label. In fact, isn’t this the second label you’ve run?

Yeah.

So what can you tell us about the challenges of running your own label? I’m sure a lot of musicians in our audience have thought about that.

First of all, I know that I can sell a certain amount of records based on the amount of touring I do and the sales of my other records. You just have to have the confidence that you can get these things to people somehow. You can’t tell people how to do that. It’s just that there’s enough of a demand, so I can do it. The other thing is I try to imagine what I would want to own as a listener. For me, these things are artifacts, not just cd’s. The CD that’s inside the packet is a part of it. But it’s not the whole thing. As a fan, I  like the rawest, most representative music. People say you have to be more concise in the studio and do shorter pieces for radio, but I think you just have to be good, and then there are a few thousand people who will want to own it. Then it’s just a question of keeping the budgets realistic. And when it comes to recording other people, I refuse to own the tapes. So if anyone is unhappy with it, they can just take their tape back. That’s my major beef with record companies. You know, you sell them the tape, and then it goes out of print or they sell it. So you lost your music, not just sales. And that’s why I finally started a label again. I just wanted to own my music, even if I sell just 5 copies. If in 5 years we find out it’s valuable to people, I’ll still own it.

It’s maintaining some kind of control.

It’s not for everyone. There’s a lot of really tedious work that most people aren’t interested in doing, or good at doing.

So how distracting is that for an artist to have to think about contracts or distribution or taking care of business?

To me, I just decided that it’s a creative act as well. And the way I’m doing it, it is. It’s related to everything else I do. So I try not to get too dark about all that business stuff I have to do. I don’t like doing it at the expense of playing, but I also don’t want to be in the situation where I’m a bitter musician complaining about record companies, complaining about promoters, and having not tried it myself. You just have to accept the fact that we’re not in control. We can’t get those people to behave any differently. And so the next thing is either to do it yourself and stop complaining, or accept that premise. I thought I had a partnership with a great friend and he sold the whole company. So I figured if that’s going to happen with him, then what’s the point?

When you do it yourself, you gain a greater understanding of how all the pieces fit together. I know you have to go set up for sound check, so let me close by asking what is your take on what’s happening in the music scene in New York these days?

Well, I mean everything is happening. I know where you’re going with it. Everybody wants to ask about the traditional thing. That’s what’s happening in uptown clubs; it doesn’t have anything to do with me. I think there is some good music and some that’s not so interesting. But for every one of those groups, there are groups doing kind of like what I’m doing, with guys writing music. They’re just not playing in those clubs, so you might not know about them.

How much of your work is in New York?

I do 20 gigs a year in New York. I do enough. I do as much as I can afford [laughs]. There’s tons of stuff going on. There’s no predominant scene. Certain types of music are appealing to certain labels–that’s never been any different. And it doesn’t bother me. It’s like selling shirts. And there’s nothing wrong with it. There are just as many close-minded people in the so-called free-jazz scene as there are in the straight-ahead scene. We go to places sometimes where the guys are so into stuff that they think we’re playing bebop. And they have an attitude that it’s not out enough. And vice versa. Most good, serious musicians can recognize someone else’s intentions as being real. Everyone is defensive and insecure. And so a lot of that stuff is blown way out of proportion. You read about it and the writers have so many, I mean they love to stoke those flames. They never talk to people. None of these guys ever call you up and ask you what you think. They don’t want to know. They want it to fit their theory. All the guys I play with play all kinds of music.

Interview took place at WPFW-FM in Washington DC, May 3, 1998.

1. Wayne Shorter

“Orbits” (from  Without a Net, Blue Note). Shorter, soprano saxophone; Danilo Perez, piano; John Patitucci, bass; Brian Blade, drums. Recorded in 2011.

Before: Wayne. You hear that tone right away. Is this with Blade, Patitucci and Danilo? Man, I love this band. Brian Blade is one of my favorite drummers. It’s like pure, raw spirit, as if he’s surpassed the instrument itself. He’s not just playing time. They’re so far beyond that traditional structure. They can play a tune where there’s no real solo out front. It’s as if the baton is being passed around all the time. It’s a kind of chamber ensemble. It sounds so free, and it feels like Wayne has no preconception of what’s supposed to happen. He’s just riding the wave. It’s very clear what his journey is and you can hear what he’s discovering. There’s always some message there that you have to listen to. It’s really inspiring.

After: What’s the name of that tune?

2. Wynton Kelly

“Char’s Blues” (from Someday My Prince Will Come, Vee-Jay). Kelly, piano; Paul Chamber, bass; Jimmy Cobb, drums. Recorded in 1961.

Before: P.C.? Is this with Philly Joe? Sounds like Jimmy Cobb. Red Garland?  Paul Chambers was the first cat I really got into. His bass lines are so melodic. I use to transcribe a lot of his solos. He had his own vocabulary. When he’s walking it’s melodic, but so supportive and warm.

What do you think of his arco playing?

Because he was one of the first cats I checked out, I thought everyone did that. Then I came to find out how unique he was. Even to this day, there are only a handful of guys who really want to mess with that bow, to play arco and still swing like that. You have to sing through this stick of wood with hair on it. It takes a lot of control.

After: This feels so good. I hear a lot of guys now artificially putting this energy into the music, trying to muscle their way through the swing. But these guys made it sound easy. And it felt so good. And Wynton and Jimmy Cobb’s left hand; that’s the hookup.

3. Brian Bromberg

“Fire” (from Bromberg Plays Hendrix, Artistry Music). Bromberg, basses; Vinnie Colauita, drums. Recorded in 2011.

Before: Jimi Hendrix tune. Is this Victor [Wooten]? Brian Bromberg? [laughter]. He’s one of the few guys who really have a lot of technique on both electric and acoustic. It’s hard to be really good at both. They’re really rocking out on this one. I love Jimi Hendrix.

After: Wow. So I guess what sounded like a guitar is his 6-string with distortion effect? He does a lot of covers, so when I heard someone covering Hendrix with a ton of chops, I thought: who would do something like that? This is very entertaining. I have a lot of respect for that style. And Vinnie Colauita is the man. He’s got to be one of the most versatile drummers around. When he plays with Sting, he’s like a pop drummer. When he plays with Herbie, he’s doing the fusion thing. And he sounds comfortable doing everything. I’ve never played with him but I’d love to.

4. Lionel Hampton

“Mingus Fingers” (from The Legendary Decca Recordings of Lionel Hampton, MCA). Hampton, vibraphone; Charles Mingus, bass, composition and arrangement; Lionel Hampton Orchestra. Recorded in 1947.

Before: [30 seconds in] Mingus. I’ve heard this before but I don’t have this record. Who’s the vibraphonist? Mingus is another one of my guys I got into really early. It kind of scared me for a while because I thought everybody played like that. It sounded like a toy in his hands. You can hear his physical strength. His approach is a little unorthodox, his beat is so elastic. He can play so extremely, either on top or behind. It’s a kind of gravitational pull.

After: I thought it was Lionel, but it’s very Mingus. A lot of motion going on. He has this way of arranging that sounds improvised, as if a large ensemble is making up the arrangement on the spot. There’s so much going on, it’s like being in a traffic circle. But it’s also very clear. I’d like to know who he was checking out. I don’t hear other people in his playing.

5. Ray Brown, John Clayton, Christian McBride

“Bye Bye Blackbird” (from Super Bass, Telarc). Brown, Clayton, McBride, bass. Recorded in 1997.

[immediately] Super Bass, with Ray Brown, Christian and John Clayton. Man, it’s so awesome to hear McBride and Ray together. It’s like hearing father and son. I don’t know anybody who makes the bass look easy like McBride. You can definitely hear the progression of the instrument listening to these guys. Ray is like the Cadillac of bass playing, like an old El Dorado. No matter what happens, you know you’ll be cool. You could run into a horse and you know you’ll be fine. There’s so much confidence in every note he plays. He also takes a lot of chances in his playing, and there’s a lot of tension there. But it never distracts. It always enhances the music. I want to sound that confident when I play. Just to have that much musical knowledge; He knew every tune, he had the tools and he could take care of business. John has that same thing, that huge sound. But they don’t muscle the bass. They let the bass speak instead of forcing the sound. When you watch them play they look like they’re barely working. That’s finesse. Less is more, but this generation has lost sight of that.

6. PSP

“Rappongi Blues” (from PSP Live,  C.A.R.E. Music Group). Simon Phillips, drums; Phillipe Saisse, keyboards; Pino Palladino, bass. Recorded in 2009.

Before: This tune sounds familiar. I don’t really recognize the bass player. It almost sounds like an upright player who’s playing electric. You can hear the Jaco influence in the tone. Is that Monty Alexander playing piano? It’s a little on the generic side. It sounds cool, but to me it doesn’t have a whole lot of personality.

After: That’s Pino? Wow. I’ve never heard Pino play like that. He’s one of my all-time favorite electric bassists, but I’ve never heard him take a solo before. He grooves. Usually I hear Pino because of his sound. He plays fretless but it’s a big, thick, warm sound. He’s on some of my favorite soul and r&b records, like D’Angelo and records that Questlove has produced. I always hear him immediately. He’s like the Ray Brown of the electric bass.

This really shocks me. He’s one of my cats, but I’ve never heard him in a jazz context. He’s got that true bass player spirit; he just wants to groove. He’s not the kind of bassist who will lead his band or play virtuosic solos. He’s a musician’s bass player. He grooves hard as hell. Pino and Questlove sound so great together. Thanks for playing that.

7. Robert Glasper Experiment

“Dillalude #2” (from Black Radio Recovered The Remix EP, Blue Note). Glasper, keyboards; Casey Benjamin, Vocoder, flute, saxophone; Derrick Hodge, bass; Chris Dave, drums. Previously unreleased from 2012 album sessions.

Is this the Glasper Experiment? Yeah. I love this band to death. They’re just a true band. There’s a lot of guys that just play together, but they have this chemistry that’s just unbelievable. Their whole concept of a band is like so in sync. And they interpret the music of our generation in a live context. That’s why they’re so popular. They can take a song by J Dilla or Slum Village, De La Soul or Tribe Called Quest, or any song that’s come out recently and just take that thing to the next level. As a band, I think of them as a modern day Headhunters. Individually, all the guys are great players and they never try to outshine. It’s all about the music, the groove and the atmosphere. I’m a big fan of Derek Hodge, a huge fan, in so many different ways. He’s not just a great bass player; he’s an excellent musician who plays the bass. That’s why he’s done so much work. He’s the musical director for Maxwell and Jill Scott, and he can do that as well as anybody. And he can play with Mulgrew Miller and Terence Blanchard and do that. He understands music in a deep way. I know this band is like an international hit now, but I remember when they were doing random hits, like at the 55 Bar, but they would announce it at the last minute and people would flood in. This was the age before Twitter, maybe 5 years ago. They’re one of the most influential bands right now. I’m really happy for them.

After: I haven’t bought this yet. It’s from Dilla Beat, it’s called MC Squared. They brought attention to J Dilla into the jazz world. The sound of a hip-hop producer has infiltrated the jazz scene. You can go to Europe now and hear cats at a jam session playing Dilla grooves, and that’s thanks to Rob and guys who know what to do with it.

8. Gary Karr

“Tosca: Act III: E Lucevan Le Stelle” (from Super Double Bass,  First Impression). Karr, bass; Harmon Lewis, piano. Recorded in 1999.

It’s definitely a classical bassist. Is it Gary Karr? Wow. It’s beautiful–super expressive tone and vibrato. It’s almost cello-like. I could tell immediately that it wasn’t a jazz bassist playing arco. I’ve done my share of listening to Gary Karr. He’s recorded the great standard bass repertoire. His playing is flawless, and as a bassist who’s attempted to played a lot of that repertoire, it’s hard, technically, to get it to sound flawless. The bass is a cumbersome instrument and it’s not meant to be played like that.

But it’s a violin.

It’s a big ass violin [laughs]. It’s a monster. I’m getting flashbacks of listening to this music, listening to Gary Karr and asking how he makes it sound so easy.

So how do you make a monster sing?

Tons and tons of practice to overcome the obstacles. No shortcuts to that. And you have to put yourself in the mind of a singer. He’s so well in tune. People don’t realize that when you play arco like that your intonation is more exposed than playing pizzicato, because the sound is so clear and direct. And he’s playing in a very high register, and the notes are getting really small and close together and it’s even harder to play in tune. Man, he’s killing that shit.

9. Peter Kowald & Joëlle Léandre

“Souerbet Frereboise” (from Duos: Europa America Japan, FMP). Kowald, bass; Léandre, bass, vocal. Recorded in 1986.

Is that William Parker? It’s two basses. Yeah, man, that’s pretty out. I don’t know who that is.

How does it make you feel?

A little crazy. I mean, two basses playing avant-garde with a classical vocalist. It’s cool. I kind of dig it. They make it work. It’s hard to make music out of that, especially with two basses. That could sound really bad. Two basses anytime is always the potential for disaster. But they pulled it off. It sounds like some modern, free classical piece.

After: Ok, I think I know Kowald. So the singer is singing while she’s playing? That’s even more impressive. Really amazing. I’d like to check out more of that.

10. Victor Wooten

“Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior” (from Sword and Stone, VIX). Wooten, basses, drum programming; J.D. Blair, drums. Released 2012.

Victor? That’s his sound. He’s taken the electric bass to another level, made it hard for everybody [laughs]. He makes it look so easy, too. Everything he does is so clean; the way he’s able to articulate, it’s so precise. But it’s very soulful, very melodic, too. He played just a couple of notes and I knew that it was Victor. There are a lot of choices when it comes to gear, but at the end of the day it’s the person. I’m sure you could give Victor’s bass to Marcus [Miller] and he would still sound like Marcus. And another thing about Victor; Everybody is wowed and amazed by his technique and his virtuosity, but he’s really a funky cat. Take away all that other stuff and check out the way he’s groovin’. He’s as funky as anybody. And that part of his playing is overlooked. It’s not all flash. On this, it’s not a lot of virtuosic technique. It’s just a groovin’ little tune. It’s perfect.

After: There’s some overdubbing here, but he knows how to do that live, too. He’s a spiritual cat. I got to meet him not long ago and we were talking about bass stuff. He’s actually a really nice guy, I mean super nice. If you talk to him you would never think he was a bass god. He pays so much attention to the beauty in music. I’ve read his books and in my conversation with him, he’s very concerned about the energy he puts out into the universe and being a good person. It’s not just about the instrument. It’s coming from a spiritual place and his music is kind of an extension of that. This is a joyful funk. It’s the kind of funk that makes you want to do laundry [laughs].

11. Gladys Knight

“I Heard It Through The Grapevine” (from unpublished, stripped down mix). Knight, voice; James Jamerson, bass. Recorded in 1967.

Gladys, “Heard It Through The Grapevine.” Is this some kind of stripped down version? Is that Bob Babbitt playing bass on this? No, it’s Jamerson. I’ve never heard it with the bass soloed out on that. Man, it’s funny. I don’t get to talk about James Jamerson a lot but he’s one of the most influential bassists on my playing. It’s definitely in there. It goes back to my Mom, who had a lot of Motown records. And even before I picked up on a bass, I was digging on Jamerson, though I didn’t really know who he was at the time. He’s fearless. He gets away with so much stuff. He’s playing a lot of notes but in the context of the groove, in the same way that Ray Brown played a whole lot of stuff but it was always pushing the groove. Harmonically, he’s in there. And he never repeats himself. Every chorus, every few bars he’s coming up with something new. I’d love to go back in a time machine and ask him about his approach to that concept and how he decided to play like that. And Gladys is so incredibly soulful and sounds good to this day.

12. Ron Carter

“The Golden Striker” (from The Golden Striker, Blue Note). Carter, bass; Mulgrew Miller, piano; Russell Malone. guitar. Recorded in 2003.

Ron. Is this that Golden Striker Trio with Russell and Mulgrew? I didn’t realize these guys hum so much when they play. I’m big on sound, and Ron has one of the most distinctive, most recognizable sounds in jazz. I’ve heard him play on different instruments and he always sounds just like Ron. His harmonic concept is really amazing. He can make any note work. And his bass lines are like stories in themselves. It’s like the left hand of a Bach invention. There’s a relation to the harmony and a relation to the melodic line. And there’s a flow within the line itself. It’s vertical and it’s horizontal. I took a lesson with Ron when I was at Juilliard. He’s very big on fundamentals. He’ll make you play an F major scale for a half an hour until it’s perfect, where every note is the same volume. And he’s another guy who never overplays or works too hard. He finesses the instrument. He understands the tension and understands how dissonance works on a complex level. Every time I’m walking a bass line there’s a part of me that wonders: “What would Ron do?”

13. Chuck Brown

“Woody Woodpecker” (from Greatest Hits: Back It On Up, Raw Venture). Brown, vocal guitar; unidentified band. Recorded in 1998.

Chuck. Without Chuck there’s no Go-Go. He’s the godfather. I always say Chuck Brown is to D.C. as Louis Armstrong is to New Orleans. He gave this city a music that we can always claim is ours. There’re not many cities in the world that can claim an entire genre as its own. There’s no dispute where this came from. It sounds simple but there’s a lot of stuff going on. It’s complex in the same way that Cuban music is, where everyone has a part. There’s almost a clave in it. All the percussion has to fit together in a certain way. And it’s dance music. Totally. It’s meant for really long parties. As much as I loved the music, it wasn’t always the safest atmosphere. There was always some stuff going down. Seemed there was always a fight and people getting shot. But yeah, Chuck started it all. And his thing really comes out of the jazz tradition. People don’t realize how important jazz was in the creation of #go-go#. You can totally hear it. All the guys in the band, the horns were playing bebop vocabulary. The young people have a lot of respect and still dig Chuck. He just passed recently but was playing right up until the end.

14. Marcus Miller

“Tightrope” (from Renaissance, Concord). Miller, bass; Alex Han, alto saxophone; Kris Bowers, piano; Adam Agati, guitar; Louis Cato, drums; Dr. John, vocal. Released 2012.

Before: Janelle Monáe? Is it Larry Graham? Is that from the new Marcus Miller? He’s so funky, man. He does some unbelievable, how-does-he-do-that stuff on the bass. When he’s just laying back and groovin’, it’s as funky as anything you could imagine. But when he takes his solo, it’s like, oh wow. It’s crazy. And he’s got this thing with the thumb, he knows how to do that slap technique, but in a melodic way. You have to have a lot of control over the instrument to be able to do that with all those expressive things that he does. They’re tricks, but he makes music out of all his trickery. In order to be really free on your instrument, you have to have that complete control over it, so you’re not limited by your technique. I know the Janelle Monáe original and this cover totally works. It’s a throwback. I like the rap. Who was that?

After: Really? I thought I recognized that voice. It’s funky, man. It might turn into a band standard. It works, totally.

Name some recordings that changed your life.

Kind of Blue really set me on my path. The Mingus record Blues “n Roots. Another Miles record, My Funny Valentine + Four & More. The first Jaco, self-titled album. That was a kick in my gut. I thought: Am I supposed to be able to do this? He set the bar so high–we’re still trying to get up there. Off The Wall and Thriller, by Michael Jackson. Those two albums are it for me. D’Angelo and that album Voodoo. That kind of messed me up. A Tribe Called Quest, The Low End Theory, and Stevie Wonder’s Songs In The Key of Life. That’s like the Kind of Blue of R&B.

This Before & After originally appeared in the April 2013 issue of JazzTimes.

You mention that you had a number of musical gurus in your life:  Ravi Shankar, Monk, Coltrane… who else?

Miles. Oh yeah.

Can you say what you’ve learned from Miles?

Got a couple of hours? [laughs] Very hard to articulate because Miles never tried to teach any way, any one. But everybody learned from him. In a way he was like a Picasso with young painters all around him. And we all learned from the way he acted, which spoke volumes. And one of the important things I learned from Miles was it’s as important to know what you don’t want as what you do want. Because those early recordings that really began with me with “In a Silent Way,” Miles was through with this wonderful quintet, beginning with Coltrane in the end of the 50′s, and the all the way through with Wayne – to ’68 and the point where I arrived. And he was ready to move on. Because he was a generation above me – he didn’t grow up with rock and R’n'B like I did, so… But he started to listen to people like James Brown, Sly and the Family Stone around that time. We all were. But you know I grew up with the Beatles and rock’n'roll – Elvis Presley. Obviously, Elvis had a big impact on me, I love Elvis. There’s a lot of pop music that is great, there’s a lot of rubbish. There’s a lot of rubbish in jazz, Larry! Let’s face it. Anyway. And I think it’s because I came in the very beginning of this process that Miles was going on then, he was looking for another way. But he didn’t know where’s this new way lay in any specific manner. And so we were experimenting in the studio in the way he would just stop us. He’d go over and give us very, very arcane instructions to us, individually.

For example?

There is a classic one with “In a Silent Way” when we played this Zawinul tune, which is a beautiful tune. Did you ever heard the version Joe and Wayne did on Black Market? That’s the way it was originally written. There is such sophisticated harmony. And that’s the way it was. But the thing that is Miles invited me the night before to the session. So there was no guitar part. I arrived to the session and Joe said, “Oh, you’ve got a guitar player.” Miles made a photocopy of the piano part, so I had the piano part.  We played the tune and Miles wasn’t happy, he didn’t like it the way it was. He turned to me and said “Play it on the guitar”. I had the piano part so I asked: “Do you want the melody?” He said: “Yeah.” I said it’s going to take a minute for me to put the two parts together. And he said: [imitate Miles' voice] “Is that a fact?” .. Means “now”. And I was already nervous. I didn’t expect it. I came to join Tony [Williams]. I didn’t come to join Miles. It was like: 48 hours after I arrived to New York I was in the studio with Miles. I was sweating, my clothes were wet, I was nervous.

But you were ready?

I didn’t know that. I was in a blue funk. Especially when he stopped everybody and said “Play it on the guitar”. I couldn’t do it with the piano part. And so here he’s waiting for me to do something. And all he says: “Play it like you don’t know how to play the guitar.” I mean, what does that mean? That’s right out of Zen book, isn’t it? And the other guy said: “That’s a good one. We’ve never heard that one before.” Because he was already known to the other guys for these kind of bizarre requests.

Anyway, I knew I had to do something in 10 minutes. So I just threw all chords out. I didn’t play one chord. I put it in the E – because anybody knows how to play E on the guitar [shows imaginary guitar in his hands]. No tempo, no chords – and I just played the melody like that. The red light was on by the time I started. I had Wayne come in, and Miles and Wayne came in, and we got to the end. And Miles loved it. He loved it! And I was in shock because he was able to pull something out of me that I didn’t know I was capable of doing. You have to understand from that point of view, too, he didn’t know what I was capable of doing. I certainly didn’t know. I  was moving in a Zen way, I was playing in an unconscious way. It’s crazy, Larry, but that’s the way it was. I didn’t even know what I was playing. I just said: screw everything, I’ll just put it in E. I love E. E’s a guitar chord. And he loved it so much he put it in the opening and closing of the Side One (of the LP).
But i’ve seen him on many occasions say many things to many players. You know about Wayne: [whispers] “You scramble that sax playing.” I remember Jack DeJohnette was on one session he came up and stopped everything. Jack was like: “Yeah, Miles” – you know, that was his way of talking, and he said: “Pum—–pumpum-pumpum, okay?” You figure it out, Larry! And so this was a kind of “request” that Miles would give us. And what that did was… He was a very intelligent man. I’m sure he knew we had no idea what to do, but he would put us in the state of mind that we would play something other than what we knew. We had to, by necessity, move out of the box, and do something we didn’t know we could do. And this was masterful, in my opinion–how he was able to do this with his musicians. And he loved us all, he loved his musicians, he took care of us. He took care of me. I mean, in ways almost like a Godfather. I’d be around his house, and he’d say: “Are you eating”? – and he wouldn’t wait for reply and stick a hundred dollar bill in my pocket to make sure that I ate. And all the time he stuffed money in my pocket just to make sure I could pay my rent. Of course, when I worked with him I got paid. But when I played with Tony we made $20 a night, max. Anyway, I’m digressing.

You still think about Miles?

Oh yeah!.. I dream about him: he comes to me in dreams, and he talks to me.

What does he tell you?

I had a wonderful dream. [reflects] It must have been a year ago… It was a Saturday night when I had this dream. And in the dream I was walking by some cafe, and there were musicians sitting outside at the table – a kind of Parisian bistro. And as I walked by they said: “Hey John, Miles is inside, he wants to talk to you.” – Miles? so I walked into the cafe and it was quite dark, and he was sitting in a low chair (like the one you’re sitting in). And I remember he had this beautiful kind of royal blue shirt and black trousers, and his hair was black and thick, too. And I was so shocked to see him, and I got down on my haunches and I grabbed his hand and he was looking at me like this… like he was happy to see me. And I said “Miles, Miles”, I was like speechless. And then he held my hand and he said: “John, we’re gonna record Thursday”.  We’re gonna record Thusday? You know I actually got excited and my heart started to beat, and I woke up from the dream. And I’d forgotten actually, that Thursday was his birthday. But I didn’t know – I’d forgotten this birthday, Woe is me. What to do?.. Somebody told me two days after. And that really hit me. Thursday had been his birthday, that’s when we were supposed to “record”. I mean, that’s just one dream, but I’ve had quite a few over the years.

If he were here with us today, what would you like to talk with him about?

Talk to him?… I’d love to play with him! I don’t wanna talk to him. [laughs] We would tell a joke of whatever. The last time he called me – this was after the last Paris concert he made – he was down in Rome and he called me, and I knew he was already not well in Paris, I think it would be late July – and he called me at home, and he just talking about his Ferrari car, he just wanted to chat. He didn’t want to say anything, he just wanted to hear a friendly voice, and you know, we just shot the breeze basically. We didn’t talk about anything specifically – definitely not music. Miles would never speak about music on the telephone. I don’t remember him ever speaking about music. He was old-school. Beautiful school.

In a sense, aren’t you old school?

I am now. [laughs] Definitely, for the younger generation.

I want you to talk about some recordings that changed your life.

Well, that was one – the one I told you about… That was the most outstanding one. Subsequent ones were really variations on “In a Silent Way.” It was my baptism of fire. By the time we moved into studios to do “Bitches Brew,” Miles had a little more that idea. He definitely wanted a little more of a rock beat, he wanted a little more raunchy, wanted a little more like guitar – whether it’s R’n'B or blues but he wanted that thing. But he was just not sure. And what I said before about experimenting – we’d just put a few chords, not even on music paper: sometimes it was just written on a piece of brown paper like what you brought your coffee in. we’d start playing and he’d stop us and he’d say to a bass player: “Pum-pum, pum-pum, and take it from there”. So it would start from more space. And this is really wonderful for people like me, how he would get people to play and get music that would make THEM happy, ’cause he never wanted to impose his will, his musical will on his musicians. I’ve never ever seen that. He wanted them to be themselves. He told Herbie: “I pay you to experiment onstage”. And he wanted the new, spontaneous thing, but something that was not clichéd or… well worn. He wanted something that we didn’t know about, he wanted to bring the unknown in us out. But somehow he would conform to what he wanted, in the direction HE wanted to go. And especially on those sessions when we all learned a great deal about this directions that he was looking for, and it was a question of really pruning, and he would say “don’t play this”. I remember we’d play the blues in F and he said: “don’t play the F”.

Because it’s too obvious?

That’s the tonic of the tune, the fundamental key. And you can play any note but not the one it belongs to. And the way he would speak to the drummers and percussion players–I introduced him to Badal Roy, the tabla player we bought in because he had another color, and sitar player Khalil Balakrishna – these different elements. I mean, talking about fusion music, Miles was way ahead of everyone else. He was way ahead in the late 50′s. These records he made with Gil – Miles Ahead, Sketches of Spain are masterpieces of fusion. But… what isn’t fusion? What isn’t fusion?! Look at the harmony that he and someone like Bill Evans, in one respect the whole French school of harmony that came from Ravel, Debussy, Satie – this is what jazz is based on. And then you have people like Coltrane and McCoy [Tyner] bringing this wonderful quartal harmony from Bartok who himself stole from the Hungarian folk songs – he brought it up to date and integrated into modern classical music, that itself became integrated into modern jazz music. So, what’s not fusion is my question? We steal from everybody. We ALL steal from everybody. This is the way we learn. We hear something, we appropriate it, don’t we? And not just music. I mean philosophy, it’s ideas – we appropriate things constantly as we grow older. But the great thing about Miles – just to come back to this recording session – was, I think, the way he took stuff out, and left its essentials. This was marvelous to see the maestro work. I didn’t realize… I saw what he was doing and I understood what he was doing, but I didn’t realize the significance of it until later.

It’s a great lesson.

Oh yes. What NOT to play. I’m still learning, Larry.

This interview originally appeared in the Ukrainian magazine, Counterpoint. Thanks to its editor, Viachek Kryshtofovych, Jr.

Here’s video I shot of John making these last points:

When you listen to music, what you’re listening for?

I listen on different levels at the same time. First of all, is it real? Is it authentic? Because authenticity has really nothing to do with technique. It has to do with the person, with the human being who’s playing. And then, once it’s established if it’s authentic –I think this is done on subconscious level – i’m not really aware of it. Then comes instant analysis of the music;  the way it’s played, the personality of the player, the predictability or lack of predictability – where it’s going; the sophistication of its harmonic and rhythmic content. There are already quite a few there, Larry (chuckles).

Do you go through the same process while listening to your own music?

I think it’s inevitable. I don’t think there are two ways we can  hear. We hear the way we are, you know? The way we are determines the way we function.

But do you need to detach when it’s your music?

Oh, I’m as critical of myself as anybody else. I think I’m my best critic, or worse, depending on which approach you’re looking at.

Are you a perfectionist?

Perfectionist? I think we all are. This wonderful ideal is really unattainable, and the only analogy I can give is you’re on a journey with a nebulous destination. But it’s not the destination, it’s the journey that we’re on.  Perfection is relative, isn’t it? Absolute perfection?  What is that? That’s the infinite supreme being of the universe and all that it contains, including awareness, consciousness. When we sum that up this is what people might call God. This is perfectionism. This is nothing we can attain. Perfectionism is the best you can do in this moment, so it’s relative.

So where is that journey heading? Towards God? Towards the ideal?

Anywhere. Where you’re heading, Larry?

Right now I’m in the moment.

Yeah, me too. But we’re not heading anywhere. We’re just being. We’re here and it’s wonderful.
I think certain perspective comes with age, – I”m not going anywhere, I don’t want to be anywhere else, I’m just happy to be here right now. But of course when you are young and you have all those vaulting ambitions, which are essential only if you let go of them at some point–they’re essential in the beginning, all your ambitions and your work. You have this tremendous amount of work being a musician, being a jazz musician. I think being a jazz musician is a very demanding process.

In what way?

You really need to understand harmony, you really need to understand rhythm, you really need to understand your instrument. You have to in some way master your instrument, otherwise the instrument will master you. Because each time you pick it up and touch it, it says: “What are you gonna do to me today”? You know, “What have you got for me today”? And instruments are like that. And they have to be a part of you, subsume them into your body and mind complex. They have to be a part of you. If there are problems, then they will manifest themselves in some way. And then you have this whole school of improvisation, which is jazz is all about, which is the heart and soul of jazz. But if you want to improvise: what are gonna say? If you want to improvise, Larry, what would you say?

Depends what the kind of story I want to tell.

No, you have a tune, it’s your solo, speak to me. What can we say? The only story we have is our life’s story. Really. Which is to tell our story about loves and losses, and joys, and tears, and our relationships with ourselves, with our colleagues, and ultimately with the universe. And relations are really what govern us. And this is really the only story you can tell. But to get to that point – it’s a lot of work. And it’s a lot of learning. And when you learn everything, just forget it. This is another process. Because we go onstage, we have all this baggage of knowledge we have and that we just talked about: harmony, and rhythm, interpretation and this and that. And then you let it all go, and you just be. Just tell your story, just sing your story. But in jazz music you do it spontaneously.

So much of what we were talking about, especially about learning and forgetting, requires being in the moment… Can you prepare to be in the moment? How do you train yourself to get there?

I think this is the life’s training. This is not just training in music. When I learn from music is when you’re spontaneous, you’re most yourself, and probably most honest, too. Because you’re living in the moment and there’s nothing to hide. Anyway, in music there’s nothing to hide [laughs]. How can you hide in music? – You’re there with your trousers down by your ankles. So you just go for it.
And I think I would relate it to some kind of spiritual work, and some meditative practices. Since i’ve been doing this for many years, I know it affects me, because it’s a part of my life, I cannot be one way in life and other way in music.

Is playing a meditation for you?

In some respect it’s greater than meditation. Because you need the ability to be detached while your passions are moving, and you articulate them at the same time, where you have quite an intense physical activity while remaining aware and to not be swept away by your own emotions. So it involves a certain amount of serenity, if I can use that word, at the same time. You asking some very psychological questions, Larry [laughs]. I never really considered them before, but since you ask me I’m trying to answer them. There are some aspects which I would say are supreme. But there are also experiences that are possible in meditation, no, really… it’s about the same. I’ve had enlightening experiences in both situations. While passive and active – experiences of liberation, emancipation. In music, I would say there’s a little plus, because there’s an action involved at the same time. Whereas in meditation there’s no outward activity, but there is intense inner activity.

Interesting to integrate the inner and outer.

Yeah!

You used the phrase liberation in music at the press conference yesterday. Did you mean that internally and externally?

Internal and external is the same, Larry. If you have an internal experience, it’s just a matter of time before it manifests itself externally. You can consider them different but I don’t think internal and external are two different realities, I think there’s only one. And that’s it. Maybe it’s just two sides of one coin.

You’ve been out there for a long time – you have a good long career and it continues, fortunately for all of us.

Yeah. Thanks God.

Is it still fun for you?

Yes. It’s playing music.

What’s the most fun part about playing music?

Playing with people you love, for people. And we love music but music loves us! This is a wonderful feeling. And people love music. Music is a such profound part of human nature. And to be a part of that whole process is profoundly satisfying – to be part of that.

Do you have sense of what it is specifically that people respond to?

They respond to that authenticity, that thing that is direct and personal. People understand everything, I believe. They don’t understand it academically; they don’t understand the harmonic and rhythmic content, but they understand the direct authenticity of the person, that’s coming through in the music. I believe that. I recognize this, and this is why it was the first thing that came into my mind. And I believe what music can do: music allows us to enter the inner life of another person, and feel the emotions and see the perceptions of that person. And that’s a wonderful thing. What other art form can do this in a spontaneous way? Music has a very special quality in this sense.

You’ve been working for a long time to in a certain sense integrate East and West at least in  musical tradition. And I wonder what do you feel are the most attractive aspects of East and West, and how compatible are they?

Well, first of all, I’m not trying to integrate anything. You know I’m a kind of India-phile since the 60′s. So I have a very strong attraction to the answers they’ve given to very profound questions of existence for the last 5000 years. This was a very powerful magnet for me –in my personal terms, especially in the early days. What I discovered subsequently was that this music of India shares that element of improvisation. And only jazz music really has this now. In Western classical music, they used to improvise, but this has been lost in the world of interpretation, I think to their loss. But to try to say precisely say what it is about the musicians and the music… I was so drawn to the masterly playing and the way that they improvise that it seemed to me absolutely natural. And this connection was very deep to me. Very profound. And in the end, all I wanted to do was to play with these people. Because I love them, really.  I loved the way they play. There was one other aspect that I should point out. I discovered very quickly that Indian music is all-inclusive, in terms of a human being and its multitude of dimensions. And this is one of the reasons why I consider Coltrane like a guru to me. I’ve had quite a few gurus in my life and he’s one of the greatest because he almost single-handedly integrated the spiritual dimensions into jazz music. And this was earthshaking for me because I was already aware of the all-inclusivity of the Indian music. In terms of that from the most capricious to the most sublime. From the most profound to the most erotic. This is what they have in Indian music. So this was marvelous.

But to put it in a nutshell, I just wanted to be out to play with these musicians. Because I felt I could connect with them, and of course learn about them, about their culture, about their music. I’m still thirsty for learning today, at my tender age of 70. But I’m an old hippie, Larry, you know, and that’s the way it is. This was my desire. And partly because of my desire, I embarked upon studying Indian music, in addition to its philosophy and its great teachers. So I had the fortune to study South Indian music with Dr. Ramanathan, which was already going on during my time with Mahavishnu Orchestra. In 1972-74 I was studying at Wesleyan University, and then from 74 through 76 I had the good fortunate to study with Pandit Ravi Shankar. I’m not a sitar player, i’m a guitar player. But for some mysterious reason he took me under his wing as a student. I was living in NY at that time, and every time he’d came to NY he called me and said “Come over.” And I’d go over and be there, making tea or whatever, just be with him. That’s all. He was a North Indian musician but one day he said he would teach me Carnatic music, because he knew both schools perfectly. and so, at that point, he starts to teach me South Indian Carnatic rhythm. Already, I learned with Dr. S. Ramanathan, who was my first guru; but Pandajit, he developed that. And already by this time I’m working with Zakir Hussain – the greatest tabla player alive today.

Did you know his father?

Yes, of course! But I remember the first ’76 Shakti, that was the first Sgt Pepper free concert in Central Park, and Panditji  was there with Alla Rakha [Zakir Hussein's father and Ravi Shankar's tabla player], and they were there at the side of the stage …  at one point they were looking at us and Alla Rakha and Panditjee said [with Indian accent] “What are these boys doing?” [laughs more]  Like we were really flipping out or loosing it all, whatever, I don’t know what they thought. In any event, because of my friendship with Zakir I got to know Alla Rakha very well. But there’s a festival every year, the 3rd of February which marks the day of his passing. It’s been 10 years now. .So Zakir and I decided to make our own festival in India, in Bombay (Mumbai now). And so we invited all the musicians we wanted to play with and we had our own festival. We had 2 concerts – 1 in Bombay and 1 in Deli–and we just had a marvelous time, it was wonderful. And when we went to Deli for the concert, we walked on stage and there was Panditji Ravi Shankar sitting front row center. And all the musicians were nervous and we thought he might leave at the break. But he stayed to the end with the two encores, and in the end of the second encore he walked on stage, and gave every musician his blessing in front of the audience. That was so delightful, Larry. And then he went to the microphone and was talking about what we were doing, that he thought it was,… I don’t know the word… Prouvant de que  – “justified” in a way. All these experiments we started doing in the early 70′s, in a way, we got to in the end with the blessing of Panditji. And that was a wonderful feeling for me. that we hadn’t been totally screwing up, if you know what I mean.

This interview was commissioned by the Ukrainian music magazine, Counterpoint. Thanks to its Editor, Viachek Kryshtofovych,Jr.

You tour all over the world. What do you think of the way jazz is presented on radio in this country?

 Lousy! [laughs]. Not enough of it to expose the young kids to it, to make them aware of what’s been going on and what is going on. There’s really not enough music on the radio, jazz that is.

Have you been able to compare that with radio stations abroad; in Europe? Japan?

Radio stations abroad, some of them are mixed stations. They don’t just have one kind of music. They don’t have hours and hours of rock and roll, or something like that. It’s mixed. They’ll have just about everything. It’s different over there, too, but this is where the music is supposed to be born. It’s supposed to be born here. I think we have an obligation to it, you know, by keeping it around for your young kids. Keeping them aware of our music. It’s not necessary that they have to dig it. Just be aware and know it exists.

You’ve owned your own record company since 1971. How important is it to have a hit record?

 [laughs] To some people, very important, but to me, no. It’s not important to me.

So you don’t measure success by record sales?

No, of course not. You can’t do that. I mean, do you think you can do that?

Most people do.

Think about how many people that you know, or you did know, or you use to know that had a hit record that you don’t even remember their name. Think about it. Dozens of people had big records. But within 2 or 3 months you forget who they are if they don’t have a second one or a third one or a fourth one. Once you start on that road, that hit record thing, you have to keep it going. Otherwise, they won’t know you’re around. That is, unless you become a good performer, which is really the only thing that’s going to keep an audience coming back to see you. It’s what you do on stage to please them, not your record. Believe me. That may be the initial introduction to some people, but that introduction can be soured if the performance is bad.

Do you think success is more important when it comes from something developed straight from your heart rather than…

 Don’t you think that? Think about that. You’re saying what it is. It’s about heart. It’s about something that you love, something that you care about. You work diligently for it. When you get on a stage, your job is to please people, to make them happy, to make them forget their problems for an evening or to fall in love for an evening, to discover things about themselves. This is what you’re supposed to be able to do when you get on stage; to perform before them. A record is exactly what it is. It’s a record. If you are a good performer, you won’t need to have a hit record. I have never had a hit record.

I notice you have certain signature tunes: Movin’ On, Most Gentlemen Don’t Like Love, Don’t Weep For The Lady. How does  your performance of them differ from night to night?

I never know what differences. I know there are differences. I mean, I couldn’t nail ‘em down. I know that they’re all different.

The response?

The response and everything is different. I mean, I know that my improvising is different. I know that’s never the same. But the feeling is also different. There are certain things that can happen to tighten you up. You’re doing three shows on a Saturday night and you really want to do the first show as good as you do the second and third shows. Even though your first show is your awakening show [laughs]. Everybody wakes up during that show, you know? But you still want to do a first-class job on that show too, if you care. I mean, you can say: “Well, this is my first show and you can get out there and shuck it. You know what I mean. But the first show people spent just as much money as the second show people spent, and they care too. They want to be pleased. So when you fall short of the first show, not pleasing them, it can work with you mentally. It can make you feel pretty bad. You know when you’ve done that. You know when it’s not really clicking.

In line with that and your role as leader, in your second set performance on Tuesday night, there was a piece in which you improvised the introduction before singing the tune. How do you feel allowing the musicians to do that and how do you feel it’s time to transition between the improvised intro and the piece itself?

[laughs] It’s going to always roll back to the structure. It’s just a lot of things can happen in between. Sometimes you can find the kind of musicians that can hear good enough to use their imagination and come up with something that is different, while still remembering where the tune is basically structured. But within that structure, there are a lot of things that can happen. It’s up to us at that moment to deal with whatever we’re coming up with, and to come out of it as we should

But being the boss, is it hard to surrender that to others, or trust them to know?

Well, you just hope [chuckles]. It’s all from the hip. And you hope it’s groovy enough to inspire them to do something slick that you can deal with and you can bounce off of. Then, in turn, you find something that they can bounce off of, and then you’re bouncing and they’re bouncing and finally you got something really happening because you’re listening to each other. So it’s all part of listening. You know I can feel when they are not listening. They can get complacent, those young kids.

I know you’ve got to get ready for your next set. In closing, can I get your impressions on two of the giants who left us recently? The first is Thelonious Monk.

Oh, gosh.

Did you ever work with him?

We worked on the same shows together.

So, what do you most remember about him, your outstanding impressions?

[laughs] His whole approach to life was uniquely Thelonious Monk. And then you’re talking about the other gentleman, Sonny Stitt? Well, Sonny Stitt I’ve known ever since my beginning from Saginaw, Michigan. He used to come to Detroit and sit in. He was Detroit’s own Charlie Parker at that time. So Sonny Stitt I’ve known through the years. We just did that cable television show together, which included “Everytime We Say Goodbye.” He does that wonderful saxophone solo on that.

Didn’t you also do “Can’t We Be Friends” with him?

We did that too. Think about it. I went in a complete circle with him, with Sonny. I liked that tune “Can’t We Be Friends.”  He recorded it, then I recorded it, then eventually I was able to record it with him before he died.

Interview recorded between second and third sets at Blues Alley in Washington DC, Aug. 15, 1982.

Sonny Rollins, Molde

This interview with Sonny Rollins was commissioned as an NEA Jazz Masters oral history in conjunction with the Smithsonian Institution’s Jazz Oral History Program, recorded on Feb. 28, 2011 at the Willard Hotel in Washington DC. Rollins, who was 80 years old at the time, seemed to enjoy the questions and the flow of the conversation, which stretched to nearly 3 hours, pausing only to change tapes. Pt. 1 of this interview is here, followed by Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4 and 5. Photo by Larry Appelbaum.

Appelbaum:  What do you think makes a good improvisation?

Rollins:  A good improvisation…a good improvisation.  Well, there are many good

improvisations, like we were saying, “telling a story.”  That used to be, that phrase used

to be used a lot more.  Lester Young always says well, “Tell a story.”  And that’s it: tell,

tell a story.  Make a beginning, an ending, a middle–whatever it is–but make a complete

story.  Say something…you know.

Appelbaum:  Is there a particular reason why you like to wander when you play?

Rollins:  Um…well, you know, that’s interesting.  I uh…I used to, I used to feel

different parts of the room, or different parts of any place when I was playing outside.

This, if I played my horn right here I get a different sound.  If I play right there I get a

different sound.  If I play it over there it’d be different.  So, that was one of my

motivations for going around and seeing if I could get to a place that really had the

optimum reverberations, and this stuff.  So uh…I think that’s, that was my, one of my uh

primary reasons for doing that.

Appelbaum:  Again, a question sort of about process, and how you open yourself up to

let creativity flow through you: Is there some way you can prepare to do that?  Or…do

you just, again, instinctively know how to open yourself up?

Rollins:  Well, I don’t know what you mean when you say “open yourself up.”  I mean,

how do you mean that?

Appelbaum:  Well, let me rephrase the question: Where do you think creativity comes

from?

Rollins:  I think creativity comes from really the uh subconscious, which is why I, when I

play, I try to forget the, what I’ve, the rudiments of a song, see.  I mean, I try to forget

the…after I’ve learned them I’ve assimilated it already.  Then, after that, I want to forget

that.  When I get on the  stage, if I’m playing My Melancholy Baby or something, I know

My Melancholy Baby.  I’ve got that already.  So, I don’t want to think about that when I

get on stage, see.  I want to let whatever My Melancholy Baby means to my subconscious

come up.  And that’s, so that’s where creativity comes from.  Someplace, I mean, I don’t

want to sound too–like we were just talking about the universe–I don’t want to sound too

grandiose here, but it’s got to be from something we don’t experience everyday.  That’s

where music comes from.  I mean, the kind of music we’re talking about, or, you know,

music that can inspire and this kind of stuff. You know, it comes from someplace else.  It

has nothing to do with material things of any sort.  It’s completely opposite of material

things, and so that’s where I try to get.  And I, it’s easy for me to do this, Larry, because

when I play, as I told you, when I started as a boy I would go in the room, I didn’t know

what the fuck I was doing, but I was doing something, see, and in…in playing this stuff.

So, it’s easy for me to get in that state, because I’m kind of a “primitive,” as I’ve said.

That’s my new word to call myself: a primitive.  I just do it.  Automatically, I go to this

part of me which is unexplainable, and I start from there I’m just doing stuff.  So,

creativity is about something completely unknown.

Appelbaum:  Is it connected to…let’s call it “higher power?”

Rollins:  Well, you know, I don’t want to sound too pretentious here, but, you know,

because then you gonna lose people and people are going to think, “What does he

know?” something like that.  Nobody knows about higher–but let’s say it’s something

different than what we experience, we’re experiencing sitting here talking.  Yeah, it’s

something else.  It’s not here.  It’s somewhere else.  No, I don’t know where.  No, I don’t

know where.

Appelbaum:  Does it always happen when you’re playing, or do you

connect with that feeling walking the streets?  Or…?

Rollins:  There are times when I get euphoric uh moments…thoughts and, you know,

periods.  But, I mean, that doesn’t mean anything.  That’s just to me.  When I play, that

gives me a chance to express it for everybody else–the people, you know.

Appelbaum:  Yeah, I guess the related question; there was a quote, yet another

quote, where you referred to preparing for performance as “getting focused and ready for

battle.”  And I wonder, who is it you’re fighting?

Rollins:  [chuckle]  Probably, my own uh…inability to, to uh…play rudiments, and to

master the technicalities of the horn, and all that stuff.  You know, that, that’s probably

what I am fighting.

Appelbaum:  And in that battle, who wins?

Rollins:  Well, you know, it’s interesting, because uh…sometimes you think you have the

rudiments right and there’s nothing happening.  So, having the rudiments right and

playing perfectly–no squeaks, no this, no that–doesn’t mean that it’s great, or that it’s

gonna reach people.  So, I would say that I don’t know who wins.  The battle is

something that you just have to uh focus on, and uh…we’ll see, because I don’t know.

This I, I’m in–see, real playing, you’re in, you’re in another realm.  You don’t know

what’s happening up there, or out there, whatever way you want to characterize it.  So, I

don’t know who wins.  I, I, I don’t know how to win.  That’s what I mean to say.  I don’t

know how to win, see.  I just have to keep doing it as I think is the…in sincerity, see.

And…hopefully some–I have a gift, as we said, I have a talent–so then it’s going to,

something positive is going to come out of it.

Appelbaum:  I have a feeling I know this answer to this, but I’m gonna ask it anyway:

What’s the best thing about being a musician?

Rollins:  Well, uh…I would say there’s nothing great about being a musician that’s not

greater than being an artist–a painter–or that’s not different than being a…janitor.  If you

are…you see, it’s the dedication and, and that…lots of people know janitors that they think

they know, “Wow.  What is this about.  This guy, man.  This is guy does great work, and

he keeps the place clean and everything, and he’s a real nice guy when I speak to him.

Man, he always makes me–”  See, I don’t care if you’re a musician or–it doesn’t matter.

Being a musician, okay, there’s a lot of hardships to being a musician.  Uh, so I don’t

think there’s anything particularly great about being a musician.  I think it’s particularly

great about having a proper attitude towards life in general.  If you’re–I was born with a

musical talent, so that’s what I do, but I don’t think I’m better…put in a better place

because of that.  No.

Appelbaum:  What are your favorite sounds in nature?  And I ask this because you live

not in the city, but in the countryside.

Rollins:  Well–

Appelbaum:  What are your favorite nature sounds?

Rollins:  Well, uh…I listen to birds, you know, and um…

Appelbaum:  Do you ever play to them?

Rollins:  Yeah, I do.  I, I do play um…and I, and I am very–how should I say?–I feel very

exalted when I hear them sort of playing with me.  I mean, when I hear us, you know,

what I play they–I can, ‘cause you can hear that.  You can tell whether they’re

squawking, or whether they’re happy when you’re playing.  So uh, yeah, I, I, I, I like that,

and I’ve done some of that.  Uh, and they’re certain birds that I really like.  There’s one

bird that makes a whole tone sound, you know.  And that bird, I was trying to find out

what it was, so we’d–because that bird is really…those two notes, and see those notes can

be–it’s coming down and it can be a uh, it can be a ninth to a tonic.  It could be a uh…it

could be a sixth to a fifth, depending–[to saxophonist Charlie Young] you’re a musician, do you

understand what I’m saying?

Appelbaum:  He’s a music professor at Howard University.

Rollins:  Right, so you know what I mean.  It’s [imitating sound] baah-baah.  That’s a

sound.  [whistling the previous sound]  So, I hear this guy, and he’s really…yeah, well

then that’s–I’m hearing the theme: baah-baah, up to tonic.  You know, baah-baah.  That’s

a tonic.  I mean, it’s really, he’s a hell of a cat this bird, man.  I really like him, you know.

And uh, but yeah, I, I, I enjoy nature sounds.  That’s about the most nature that I hear is

birds, you know.

Appelbaum:  Did you feel your life changed when you moved out of the city…to the

countryside?

Rollins:  Uh…no, not really.  Not really, because these, things now that I’ve been

exclusively in the country for a while, uh…I’ve always had them as part of me.  See, I’ve

always been a person that was conversant with nature.  So, it wasn’t a big deal to actually

be living in the country.  Even when I was in the city I was, I had nature sounds, you

know what I mean.  I was close to nature.  It wasn’t a big, a big uh change.  So, no, I

didn’t, I didn’t really notice a big, you know…difference between living in the city where

I was born and lived most of my life, and then moving to the nice quiet country.  No, it

didn’t really affect me in that way.

Appelbaum:  You were one of the first musicians who made conscious statements about

what’s happening in the world around you.  And this goes back to the Freedom

Suite, and Airegin and all kinds of statements that you made.  And it even extends into

things like you’re concerned about, global warming, for example.  And I wonder whether

you think musicians, or artists, or people need to be more aware of the world around

them, and not just focused on the music in front of them?

Rollins:  I am not qualified to answer that.  I did what I did because it was something that

I felt strongly about.  Uh…I don’t think other people might feel that strongly about it.  I

don’t think other musicians should make statements, or artists should make statements.  I

think uh W.E.B. Du Bois once said that, “it’s the obligation of artists to be political.”  I

don’t nece–that might be true.  It might be true.  It might, it’s something that I…you

know, I mean it’s possible that’s true.  But I am not sure that I would require that of

anybody, you know.  I mean, that’s a big step to take.  A person that’s really into art then

come into the secular world, that’s hard to do.  I did it because I grew up in that milieu.

My grandmother was a Garveyite, and I was marching up and down for the Scottsboro

Boys, you know.  [As if protesting] “Free Tom Mooney and the Scottsboro Boys.  Free

Tom Mooney.”  Tom Mooney was the lawyer for the Scottsboro Boys famous case,

which was, maybe people might not know about.  Now, uh…so I grew up in that.  That’s

why I did it.  I mean, it was just something that was normal to me to do, and I felt, “Oh

wow, yeah.  I got a chance to put my political views–,” yeah.  But should other people do

it?  Maybe.  Maybe, but I wouldn’t, I, I wouldn’t uh feel that they have to do it at, at all,

you know.

Appelbaum:  But it was important for you to make these statements.  Did it make you

feel more connected to the world around you?

Rollins:  Well, it made me feel that I was worthwhile as a human being, as a living

person doing my period.  Yeah, it made me that I was uh outside of my specialty–music–I

was also in the whole world.  Yeah.

Appelbaum:  And do you still feel that?

Rollins:  Not in the same way. I have evolved in a lot of ways.  I still, I mean, you,

you would have to question me individually, because it’s very complicated here.  I’ve,

you know, you, I mean, you, you would have to give me specific things–Do I feel this

way about this?  Do I feel this way about that?–before I can really give you a uh…

Appelbaum:  Well, let me–

Rollins:  …real answer to that.

Appelbaum:  Let me reframe the question: Do you think the world is coming together or

falling apart?

Rollins:  I think…I think that…now here’s where we get back to, you said something

about “higher power” a while ago, and I didn’t want to touch that because it’s, who

knows anything?  But, when you ask me something about the world, then I’m gonna

invoke higher power, to this sense:  I believe in higher, a higher power created what we

have here, known as the world.  You’re…My friend here sitting with the earphones on,

you’re asking me questions, my friend is over–I’m sitting here talking: things we know:

this is the world.  Okay.  I believe that this world is not able, it’s not able to get better or

worse.  The world is the way it is for a reason.  Whatever that reason is, I don’t know.

I’m not that power.  I don’t know why, but it’s not able to change, you see.  It’s made to

be the way it is.  All we can do–now, that might be, you might take it to say, “Well, wow.

That’s a very discouraging thing.  We can’t change the world.”  No.  No.  The answer to

that is that…we do have something in our power.  That is “us,” individually, see.  That’s

Sonny Rollins.  That’s Larry, you see?  Me, individually, I can change myself, you see.

And that’s a big universe inside of me that needs to be changed, and I need to work on it,

and be a better person, and not do things which I know are not right.  That’s where the

change comes: individually.  I can change myself.  You can change yourself.  Only you,

see.  That’s where the change is.  The world…forget the world.  The world is made to be

just the way it is.  But all that’s happening in the world, it’s going to always be like that,

because it was, you know, created by something we don’t, can’t conceive of.  All we

know, we were born, and grew up, and here we are living in this place.  We don’t know

how we were born, or why we’re here in this life, or why are we alive?  This is life.  We

don’t know that.  You just got consciousness as a little boy, and you’re growing up and

here we are.  But what–that’s the world.  We can’t change that.  I don’t know what it

started.  I’m not interested in that.  I’m not interested in changing the world anymore.

What I’m interested in is changing Sonny Rollins, see.  This is my time, my chance, this

life that I have.  That’s all I can do, and that’s a big deal, as we all know.  Changing

ourselves, that’s the…you know it’s easy to say, “Oh, let’s see if we can change the

world.  Let’s see if we can stop people from war.”  That’s baloney.  The world isn’t

gonna change.  The world is here to be just what it is–ignorance, and hatred, and jealousy

and all this–that’s the way the world is made.  But I can change myself.  If I don’t want to

hate somebody, I can do that.  I can do that, see.  And this, this makes sense.  I finally

came to this uh enlightenment fairly recently in my life, because I would think, “Oh, gee,

the world.  Wow, what a terrible place,” and “Oh, this guy is fighting, and look–”  It’s

foolishness.  The world is the way it is, man.  We can’t do anything about the world.  Our

world is us…you.  I shouldn’t say “us,” I’m speaking about each person individually.

See, your world is Larry, right?  You can go inside yourself and say, “Well, gee, man…”–

when you’re shaving in the morning– “gee, did I, did I really do the right thing?  Did I

rush past that old woman?  Yeah, I wish hadn’t.”  That’s where you’re thing is at, man.

And that’s where each of our things, that’s, that’s why we’re here.  That’s the short life

that we have, we have to deal with that.  The rest of it doesn’t mean anything.  If we’re

worrying about the world, that means we’re invading our issues, see.

Appelbaum:  With that in mind, what are the things that you feel you need to change

within yourself?

Rollins:  Oh, boy.  That’s gonna take a long time.  Uh…you know, there’s a lot of things.

I’m, I’n not going to be uh specific, but I’ll admit: a lot of things.  Uh, when I got up

uh…when I was in New York and I uh…had to make my bed in the morning, and I was

saying, “Ah, god, I don’t want to make my bed.”  That’s something…I, because I know

that that’s the correct thing to do, and I know that.  So, I’m just putting that off

[inaudible]–no.  That’s one little thing, but there are multitude of things of–maybe you

may think of them more important nature–I, I, I don’t know.  That’s inside yourself.  But,

that’s one thing, but there’s whole other things, man, that I need to change, and I’m not

going to go into them, because, you know, but suffice it to say that there’s a lot in me that

needs, that’s I know that I need to change, see.  So, I’m working on that, and that’s why,

as we’re saying this life is beautiful man, ‘cause we have a chance to do something about

our existences while we’re here.  This is a great privilege, man.  We’re all setting up here.

We got [inaudible], we got [inaudible].  This is what it’s, this is a great gift, man.  And

life is short, so don’t think that, “Oh, it’s gonna–” No, no, life is short.  So, use it.  And

the only way to use it is not worrying about, “Oh, the world.  Wow, what a terrible thing.

Look at [Muammar al-] Gaddafi.”  I mean, to hell with all that.  It doesn’t mean anything.

That stuff doesn’t mean anything.  It’s what you’re doing, that’s what means anything.

Appelbaum:  So, there’s an external world, and then there’s the world inside.

Rollins:  Well, to me there’s no external world.  There is no external world.  I mean, I

understand what you meant, but that–forget about, just forget if even there is an external

world.  There’s only an internal world.  Don’t even recognize that there is an external

world.

Appelbaum:  So, I know you’re kind of short on time now.  So, maybe it’s time to

wrap up with, maybe, one last question…uh, two questions.  One: How do you like doing

interviews?

Rollins:  Well, uh…they’re part of my job, you know.  That, that’s part of what I have to

do.

Appelbaum:  Do you ever learn from hearing yourself explain things?

Rollins:  Well, you see, what’s happening with me, Larry, is that…all of these questions

are sort of…that question does–it’s sort of changing now, because I’m getting more

enlightened, now.  I’m, I’m advancing in age, so hopefully that’s a good sign.  I know

I’m not going to have five, or 100, more years to parcel out these problems.  So, yeah, but

no, no.  I’m…I’m changing.  My, my, my views of life is, are changing…you see?  And

this is…I’ve been–well, you try to do the right thing, but we all human beings, and we all

have our problems.  I have as many as anybody else, but I’m willing to see that I’m now

getting to understand what my…purpose in life is, whatever it is, you see.  So, I feel

completely different.  Like, when you say “interviews,” well, I don’t know how I felt

when I was interviewed uh last year.  Maybe I’m…that’s–I’m understanding different

things now.  I’m getting new enlightenment, finally…you see.  So, I feel differently about

a lot of things that I might have said before, or that uh, you know, you might have

figured, “Oh, well, I know Sonny feels this way about X, Y, Z.”  Well, no, I don’t think

so.

Appelbaum:  As of 2011, on this date–February 28th–what do you think your purpose is

in this life?

Rollins:  Um, my purpose, I think, is to make myself a better person.  That’s the only

purpose I can have.  And what is a better person?  Well, again, that’s between Larry and

you, and my friend and him.  I don’t, I don’t know what a better person is to everybody–

Appelbaum:  What is it to you?

Rollins:  To me, as I said, “Hey, why didn’t I make my bed?”  “Why did I get lazy about

this?”  “Why did I uh…have a feeling of jealousy about something?”  “Why did I

uh…be…hateful or–”  I mean, there’s, there’s a multitude things I, [chuckling] that’s

wrong with me, that I’m trying to deal with while I have this.  Now, I understand what I

have to do.  You know, a multitude of things, but that’s okay.  I’m on the right track.

See, that’s, it’s, it’s not important uh…you know, how far you are.  At least, this is my

experience.  I can’t speak–it’s not important how far.  I know now that I’m on the track.

I’m on the right road, see.  All these revelations just came to me not long ago.

Appelbaum:  What do you think triggered this, these revelations?

Rollins:  Well, I’ve been, I’ve been into things all my life, man.  I mean, I was brought, I

was born a guy that had it, you know.  I, I, I had a uh…there was a woman writing a book,

I don’t think it’s ever going to, but…this is short.  When I was a little, we used to go up

on the roof of a house, and we used to, and there was a path where people would walk

from one block–I told you that, that Edgecombe was one long block, remember?  Okay,

right behind it was another long block: St. Nicholas Place.  If you lived one place

[inaudible] you had to walk all the way around.  So, there was a shortcut between the

buildings that people would walk, so they could get access without having to walk all the

way around these blocks.  We used to, we used to think it was fun–I mean, I was eight,

nine years old or something–we used to think it was fun to go up on the roof, and there

was some loose mortar there, and as people were coming by, you know, this shortcut

there, we’d drop the mortar down and scare people, you know.  So, boy, that was a big

joke.  One day, I was up there and I said, “Boy, here comes a guy,” and I dropped this

mortar–and this was a heavy piece of mortar from, from the roofing–and it came down,

and I saw that it was going to hit this guy.  And if this thing hit this guy from six, seven

stories up…okay?  And I began to pray [pause].  And I began to pray, man, and I…you

know.  I prayed hard man, because I knew that, what would happen if it hit this guy.  And

I began to pray, and, I mean, I prayed hard, man.  And BANG, it fell next to him.  It

didn’t hit him.  And I said, so that was, I mean, that was one of the earlier things.  I mean,

I’ve always been a person that knew that there was some kind of inner…something,

“conscious,” whatever you want to call it.  So, I was aware of that all the time.  All my

life.  I’m a kid.  And uh, so that’s what, this is nothing new in a way.  I’m just getting to

the point where I’m able to, to access it, and to use it in my everyday life now, see.

Appelbaum:  Um, there’s…a word…that is often thrown around, especially in the

professional fields, and that is “success.”  And I wonder, for you, as a musician, but also

as a man, how do you measure success?

Rollins:  Well [chuckling]…success, wow.  Well, I hate to think in the terms of uh the

world we live in, the material world we live in, but uh it’s successful when I can uh…I

feel that success is uh…uh being able to uh…take a town-car instead of having to uh take

the train.  Being able to do things of that sort.  Uh, being able to buy the food that

uh…whatever it is I want regardless of the price.  I mean, it’s no exorbitant, but going by,

having the ability to do, in the material life.  So, that’s in a way, that’s sort of, of a

uh…what they call “success.”  I mean, all of these words and things to me, Larry, are

so…inadequate, really, to talk about the uh…you know, the important things of life.  I

mean–

Appelbaum:  Well, then let me ask it this way: What are those important things in life

for you right now?

Rollins:  It’s being able to be a better person, myself.  That’s all it’s about.  Being able to

be a better person.  Not lie to myself.  Not bullshit myself.  Not try to bullshit somebody

else.  Not–all of that, that’s all that, that’s all that matters.  That’s all it is.  The rest of it

doesn’t mean anything, man.  If I’m doing that, then I am doing, what I conceive, the

most any of us can do as individuals, born, human beings on Earth.  That’s dealing with

ourselves.  Dealing with your inner-self, man.  Knowing what–‘cause you know what’s

wrong or right that you do.  Nobody–you, you know that.  Addressing that yourself,

that’s it.  That’s the greatest thing…and trying to make, trying to make it uh better.  That’s

all it’s about now for me.  The rest of it is, the rest of it is part of that.  That’s the thing.

The rest of it all depends on my doing that first.

Appelbaum:  I hope you will continue.

Rollins:  Well–

Appelbaum:  I trust you will.

Rollins:  I mean, I’ll continue as long as life, this life, continues here–sure.  Because after

all this–I’m 80 years old now, man.  I’m 80 fucking years old.  So, I had to learn

something in 80 years, so I got that much.  So, yeah, sure.  I mean, there’s, there’s no

turning back, you know.  There’s not turning back now.  I mean, there’s…

Appelbaum:  I know that you have…an awareness of who you are, and you are, you have

a genuine kind of humility in keeping your ego in check, but I just wonder whether

you’re aware of the stature that you have…for other musicians, for other people, how you

inspire them?

Rollins:  Uh, I try not to, and I’ve always–I mean, this is something before my recent

realizations.  No, no, I don’t want to think about that.  Again, because, Larry, I know

what great people have done.  I’ve been, I’ve been around [John] Coltrane.  I’ve been

around Miles [Davis].  I’ve been around Monk.  I know what great guys have

accomplished.  So, I have to put myself against them and say, “Well, gee, now, can I be

great?”  No, it’s a lot of bullshit.  I, I don’t, I don’t care about…I mean, if people think

that about me, “Okay great, great, that’s fine.”  I mean, but I don’t…I have no comment.

I have no conception of their thoughts about me.  It doesn’t mean anything to me, see.

I’m still living in myself, trying to get myself right before thinking, “Wow, gee…Jo Jones

really thought I was a great guy.  So, wow, maybe I’m doing something–”  I don’t care

about who thought what.  I care about what I know, and I know I’m still not there.  I’m

doing a lot of stuff I need to do, man…see.  Once I get that done, I can worry about the

rest, but, but…you know.

Appelbaum:  The best thing you can be is who you are.

Rollins:  Only thing you can be.  It’s the only thing you can be is who you are, and once

you address that then you’re going to be the best you can be, and that’s all we can be.

You want to be the best Larry you can be, see.  I want to be the best Sonny I can be, and

once we do that, man, we’re, we’re safe.  There’s nothing to fear.  There’s no, nobody

can hurt you.  Nobody can kill you.  Nothing, man…‘cause you’re living for, you’re doing

what you have to do, man.  It’s, I mean it’s, it’s, it’s so beautiful it’s incredible.  But

uh…it’s a wonderful gift, man.  That’s, that’s why I say that we had be-, being born man,

and being sentient beings here, too.  I mean, this is…this is out of the world, man.  See,

that’s why life is beautiful.  There’s nothing that can happen in life that would change–

now, I’ll just say this last thing.  I say–I have these friends that have this saying “it’s all

good.”  You’ve heard that, “it’s all good”–well, I believe that, too, and uh I’m gonna be

tested on that.  I’m sure I will be, because I say, “it’s all good.”  Whatever happens to me

personally, anything that happens to me personally, is good, because I…it’s part of what I

have brought on myself in some way, and I have to deal with the things that happen to

me, you know.  Without going too far into metaphysics and all that, but whatever

happens to me–it’s good.  I deserve it for some reason…see.  So, this is the test I’m gonna

have to deal with, man, because something catastrophic can happen, then I’m gonna have

to say, “Well, gee, is it really all good?”  You know, then, then that’s gonna be a test for

me.  I think I’m ready to say that, and I’m ready to be tested, man, see, because I believe

that.  Nothing can happen to me now that’s “bad.”  Nothing can happen to me now, man,

‘cause I’m–you know why?  ‘Cause I’m trying to do the best thing for me, and “the best

thing for me” means I’m not hurting you.  When you go out the do I’m not gonna say,

“Wow, this guy’s got a $100 bill in his pocket.  Let me pull that out while he goes–”  I’m not doing that…to anybody, in any way, anything close to that.  So, therefore, once I

know then I’m, I’m cool, man.  I, I don’t care what–nobody can fuck with me or nothing.

What can you do?  I’m straight.  I’m straight with myself.  That’s all it’s about.

Appelbaum:  There’s a great old song, and I think it’s appropriate for me to tell you: I’m

Glad There Is You.

Rollins:  Well…[chuckling].  See, now, he’s gonna say, see that’s, the problem with that

is that you are making this ego thing again.  “Well, gee, Sonny, you’re…you’re a good

guy, and I’m glad–”

Appelbaum:  I’m just sharing my feelings.

Rollins:  Yeah, but I mean it’s a, it’s a, sharing in that way you are putting me under the

test to say, “Well, gee, man, I’m gonna put it on Sonny now to say, ‘Hey, man, you’re

really a good guy.’”  Well, okay, but it’s…I could, I could take the test.  I’ll take the test.

Appelbaum:  [chuckling]

Rollins:  Okay?

Appelbaum:  Yeah.

Rollins:  Because, I don’t think, “I’m a good guy.”  No, no.  I don’t think that way.

Inside of me: that’s where I want to be a good guy.  When I think that, then I’m cool.

Other than that, if you say, “Oh, Sonny, you’re really a great guy, man.  Sonny, you’re

really a great musician.”  If I don’t feel it completely then…you know, it doesn’t, I got to

feel it here.  I’ve got do it here.  I’ve got to be true to Sonny, and that’s my uh 80 years on

this planet have gotten me now, see.

Appelbaum:  That’s still…I’m grateful.  That’s all I’ll say.

Rollins:  Well–

Appelbaum:  I’m not saying you’re a great person.  I’m not saying you’re a great musician–

even though I think so–I’m not saying that.  I’m just saying I’m grateful that you took the

time to talk with us today…

Rollins:  Okay, thank you.

Appelbaum:  And I’m grateful for being able to tell you that.

Rollins:  Okay, well, I, I, I, I hope I’ve said something which…you know, like my music

you’d say, “I like–”  Okay, good.  I hope, I hope I have, my music says something to you,

and evidently it does, and I’m grateful for that.  But, see, most of that is–90%

remember?–a gift.  So, I can’t feel, “Oh, I’m a great musician.”  No.  That was a gift, see.

I was given that talent.  I didn’t work hard for it.  I was given that.  So, it keeps me in my

place, too.

Appelbaum:  Well, let’s just say that I’m especially glad for the gift.

Rollins:  Well, thank you.  I’m glad for the gift of you asking me questions.  I’m glad for

the gift of my friend here.  I’m glad for the gift of my–you see?  It’s all, we’re all…

Appelbaum:  It’s all a gift.

Rollins:  It’s all a gift.  And we all have it, man, and that’s why when you said, “Do I

want to–glad to be a musician?  What does it feel–?”  Anybody is, is uh, you know, the,

the, whatever we’re here for.  Who knows what the fuck it is?  I don’t know, but I know

that it’s about inside of me.  I know I can’t put it on the world, and say, “Oh, the world is

fucked up?”  No, no.  I gotta make me straight.  That’s all it’s about.  I know that.

Appelbaum:  Thank you.

Rollins:  Okay.  Thank you, Larry.

For more on the Smithsonian Institution’s Jazz Oral History Program (http://bit.ly/efqGXA) and the NEA’s Jazz Masters Program (http://www.nea.gov/honors/jazz/index.html). Special thanks to Sonny Rollins, Ken Kimery and Terri Hinte.

Appelbaum:  You did an interview with Arthur Taylor–very interesting interview–that

was published in his book “Notes and Tones.”  And in the interview, you say, “I don’t have

the greatest opinion of myself.  I recognize a lot of my faults.”  And I guess, first, I need

to, I’m obligated to ask: What do you think those faults are?

Rollins:  Well, those faults are…numerous, but they’re probably embarrassing to mention

them.  And plus, they would, they would, they wouldn’t hold me in good stead, because

some of my fans might say, “Oh, gee, I thought that was good.  Now, Sonny is telling me

that that’s crap.”  So, I don’t, if you–I’m going to desist from…outlining my many faults,

in my mind.  If you don’t mind.

Appelbaum:  No problem.

Rollins:  Because somebody else might think they’re great.

Appelbaum:  I understand.

Rollins:  And that may color their view.  They might say well, “Gee, I thought Sonny

was really doing something great.  I come to find out Sonny thought it was nothing,” you

know.  So, maybe I’m wrong.  So, I don’t want to cut off my career that close yet.

Appelbaum:  I gotcha.

Rollins:  I still have a few more years, hopefully, to go.

Appelbaum:  Many more.  So, let’s just leave it at the fact that you are somewhat self-critical.

Rollins:  Yeah.

Appelbaum:  And you’re aware of your faults.

Rollins:  Mmhmm.

Appelbaum:  Are you able to easily forgive yourself?  I mean, none of us are perfect.

Rollins:  Well, you know, “forgive myself” to me means that I’m going to keep trying.  If

I keep trying then I’ve forgiven myself.

Appelbaum:  Okay.

Rollins:  And I’m going to keep trying.

Appelbaum:  So, you don’t ever, like, beat yourself up for making mistakes, or feel

guilty, or any of that stuff?  It’s all moving on to the next thing?

Rollins:  It’s moving on to the next.  Of course, when you have to hear this–when I say

I’m, I’m making a record and I have to listen to something, or if I have to be someplace

where a record is made that I’m on and I have to hear it, then I might beat myself up a

little bit…which is why I don’t like to listen to my own music.  You know, ‘cause I don’t

want to beat myself up so much [chuckling].  See, so uh, you know…

Appelbaum:  You have very high standards.

Rollins:  Well…for what I think I can do, and, as I said, great musicians I’ve been around.

Yeah, I’ve heard some great music.  You know, I’ve, I’ve heard some great music.  I’ve

been around with the hierarchy, see.  So, yeah, I want to get there.  I want to be able to be

on a level with stuff I’ve heard.

Appelbaum:  Hmm.  I’m just curious, if um, if Coleman Hawkins were sitting

here with us right now, would you want to talk with him about these things?  Or what

would you want to talk to Coleman Hawkins about?

Rollins:  Well, I got to know Coleman Hawkins a little bit.  Um…I don’t, I don’t know if

I would uh want to talk too much music with Coleman Hawkins.  I think his musical

statements speak for themselves.  I mean, I don’t think I’d want to uh talk shop with

Coleman Hawkins.

Appelbaum:  What would you want to talk about?

Rollins:  Well…I remember I used to uh ask him, make sure he was uh…into health

foods.  Stuff like that.  And that, you know…because there was one period there where he

was drinking a lot, and the cats he was working with said, “Oh man, Hawk, you’re not

eating,” and all this.  I’d want to talk to him about stuff like that, you know, that I got into

around that time.  I got into sort of more healthful living back when everybody else

hadn’t gotten into it yet.  So, I would probably, in fact, I have talked to Coleman about

that, you know.

Appelbaum:  What, what did he say?

Rollins:  I don’t, I don’t remember but his drummer uh…uh…uh…what’s his name, he just, he

just left us not too long ago [Eddie Locke].  Uh, he’s in that picture, the Harlem…picture, Art Kane

photo, “A Great Day In Harlem.”  Anyway, he, he was with Coleman and all them.  He told me about some things that I used to, you know, tell Coleman about, or send him something, some, you know.

Appelbaum:  Speaking of health, I–first of all, I’m very glad to see you’re doing well.  I

mean, I think I’m not alone in that.

Rollins:  [laughing]

Appelbaum:  We, we all, we all are inspired by this.

Rollins:  [laughing] Well, okay.

Appelbaum:  So, here’s the, here’s the question…um: There was a time, especially late-

40’s early-50’s, there a dark period for, not just musicians, but for a lot of people in this

culture, you know.  And there were people leading, let’s just say, unhealthy lifestyles.

Rollins:  Okay.

Appelbaum:  And I wonder how you pulled yourself out, when so many others

didn’t?

Rollins:  Well, I was fortunate.  We, we, we all got involved with drugs when our hero

Charlie Parker was involved with drugs.  So, we thought, “Oh, gee, that’s a great thing to

do.  Charlie Parker’s doing it.  Gotta be okay.”  So, uh…that was our, you know, he was

the guy especially, Charlie Parker.  And uh…a lot of guys didn’t make it, but everybody

was using drugs.  So, uh I, my individual case, which I’ve told many times, is that Charlie

Parker actually got me away from drugs by, kind of, you know, when I saw that he really

didn’t want to see me, who was one of his proteges, throwing away my life like he did.

That really upset him.  He got drugged, I mean, he was…despondent over that, because he

didn’t know…he knew I was one of his top proteges, you know.  But when he found–I

told him that I wasn’t using drugs, and then he, somebody in this session ratted on me  and told Bird, “Oh yeah, we were just getting high,” you know.  So, then I saw the

reaction from Charlie Parker.  So, that and some other things–I had already had a lot of

trouble–but that and some, you know…I said, “No, I got to stop this.”  I wanted to stop.  I

mean, my mother was–I wanted to stop for her, too, but uh…also, but I wanted to show

Charlie Parker, who was my idol, my prophet, you know, I wanted to show him that,

“Hey man, I got your message,”  you know, “I understand.  I’m through with drugs now.”

Appelbaum:  And why do you think he really couldn’t lead a healthy lifestyle?

Rollins:  Well, I don’t know.  He was just uh…I guess he tried and he gave up.  You

know, Max [Roach] told me uh…Bird said, “Oh man, look at my body.  I’m just, I’m

just–my body is wasted.  I can’t, I can’t fight this,” you know.  He said, “I’m just…I can’t

do anything, man.  I’m over,” you know.  So, you know, it was some sort of weakness.

You know, addictions are tough to break, and uh…I don’t know why exactly that he

couldn’t do it, but he certainly conveyed to me that that wasn’t the life, you know.  That

is a… “Don’t do this, man,” you know.

Appelbaum:  Let’s switch gears a bit, and ask… I’m very taken with how

you play ballads.  I love the way you play these songs.  I wonder whether lyrics of a song

are important to you?  You’re an instrumentalist: Do you pay attention to lyrics?

Rollins:  Oh yeah, I pay attention to lyrics.  Yeah.

Appelbaum:  Do you learn them?

Rollins:  Uh…yeah, some of them.  I mean, the ballads that I play I know some of the

lyrics.  Maybe, the essential part of the lyrics.  I, I don’t know, you know, lyrics from A-

to-Z on many of the songs, but I know some of the crucial part, of the crucial parts of the

lyrics, you know.

Appelbaum:  You know the story of the song?

Rollins:  Yes, sort of the story.  Exactly.

Appelbaum:  It’s funny, we were, I mentioned that we were with Jimmy Heath the other

night, and he recounts a story of talking with Ben Webster and Johnny Griffin.  And Ben

wants to know the lyrics of these songs, because he wants to speak them through his

horn.

Rollins:  Right.

Appelbaum:  And Johnny Griffin says, “I don’t need lyrics.  I play notes.”

Rollins:  Right, right.

Appelbaum:  So, I’m guessing you lean more towards wanting to know the story.

Rollins:  I, yeah, I lean towards wanting to know the story.  Yeah.

Appelbaum:  Do you feel that you’re a story…that you literally tell stories through your

horn?

Rollins:  Well…not enough, you know.  I mean, I’d like to be able to really tell, and I’m

practicing every day.  I’m practicing right now, as a matter of fact, trying to perfect these

things you’re talking about.  So, do I know them?  Well, I’m trying to do that.  I’m not,

it’s not, I haven’t gotten it where I want it to be yet.

Appelbaum:  Hmm.

Rollins:  But yeah, I’m trying to tell stories.  I mean, some of the guys that I…uh, my

heroes, like Gene Ammons, these guys, I mean, they told a great story, and they were,

you know.  So, I, I’ve heard these people.  So, that’s why I’m hard on myself.  I’ve heard

people.  I know what can be done in our music, see.  So, until I’m doing it myself, I’m

hard on myself, of course.

Appelbaum:  Especially in your younger years–you can still play fast, you can play

whatever you want, as far as I’m concerned–but in your younger years you could play

blindingly fast.  And I’m wondering, as a musician or as a horn player, how do you relax

when you’re playing very fast tempos?

Rollins:  Well, you know, I probably don’t play those fast tempos.  I remember I was

playing with uh…the great Dizzy Gillespie over at Wolf Trap, which is right near here.

And uh, we were doing this big tribute concert to Dizzy, and I think in the band was the

great Hank Jones, Dizzy, myself, I think was Mickey Roker and Rufus Reid.  And

somebody told me those last two guys recently, ‘cause we had been talking about that.

But anyway, uh we were talking about the repertoire.  So, Dizzy said, “No, don’t play

anything fast, man,” you know, “I don’t play–,” as if to say, “Well, I don’t play fast

anymore.”  And okay, I, I know Dizzy used to play fast and could play fast, so maybe it

might as you get older and stuff, playing fast might, you know, not be, you know, your

ability to do that might diminish somewhat.  Uh…not that that’s anything that detrimental

anyway, because if you don’t play fast then you play something else which is equally

great, you know.  So, I don’t mean that, but there was some reason why he said that, and

maybe it’s true, now I see, you know, I, I don’t play a lot of fast stuff.  And it may be a

technical reason after you get a certain age, you know, it might be–

Appelbaum:  But do you recall the experience, when you were younger, of playing these

very fast things?

Rollins:  Well, I used to work with Max Roach, see.

Appelbaum:  How about that?

Rollins:  And Max Roach would play these fast songs, and we’d, we had a practice of

discouraging young guys who wanted to come up and play with us.  Anybody wanted to

play, you know.  A guy would say, “Oh, can I sit in with the band, Max?”  “Okay, sure,

man.”  Then he’d come and see and it’d be–BAM, [imitating fast drum beat]–you know.

So, I had to learn to play fast playing with Max, you know.

Appelbaum:  And is that just a matter of physical dexterity, or–?”

Rollins:  Well, it’s part.  Physical dexterity is part of it, you know, which is why I said

maybe Dizzy said, you know, “I don’t play that fast anymore.”  So, that’s, it’s part of it,

definitely.  Uh…yeah, it’s definitely part of it.  Physical dexterity plays a part in it.

Appelbaum:  Okay.  Do you ever hear music in your dreams?

Rollins:  Uh…I don’t, I don’t think so.  I don’t think so, but I have a bad habit of sleeping

with the radio on, and occasionally I have music, I have music on.  And if there’s some

great music playing I wake up.  For instance, I was sleeping one time, I remember, and

they were playing Art Tatum, and wow I woke up right away, you know.  Which, you

know, but uh which shows I probably wasn’t in deep sleep–or maybe I was in deep sleep,

but it got me up right away.  I don’t think I hear music when I’m sleeping though.  I

don’t think so.  I mean, in my dreams that’s what–yeah, I remember uh…you know, to

recall really, “Oh yeah, I heard something.”  I can’t recall anything in particular.  But, I

think that’s close to the surface.  The music is close the surface of what I’m doing when I

am sleeping.  I think it’s close, and that, you know, it’s, it’s not like it’s foreign.  I think

it’s, you know, it’s somewhere close there.  Even in a dream, I think the music

somewhere near.

Appelbaum:  Was it always somewhere near even when you weren’t playing?  Like

when you took your sabbaticals, or when you went to India, or…did you ever feel like, “I

need to take a break from music?”

Rollins:  Uh…

Appelbaum:  Not, not the business, but I mean from music.

Rollins:  Yeah.  Uh…very, very seldom.  I remember…very seldom.  I remember a couple

of times in my whole career when I felt I was, musically, I was up against a brick wall.  I,

I do remember, and I had to, I said, “Gee, man, I just can’t, you know, go on.  I can’t

think of anything.”  But that period didn’t last.  I kept my regimen, and then it passed

away, you see.  So, maybe, I don’t know, maybe it meant that: Hey, don’t give up;

always persevere.  So, uh…you know, not, not often, but I have had periods when I’ve

felt–maybe once or twice in my whole life–I remember uh feeling, “Gee, I don’t know

what else to play, or what else can I–what can I do now?”  But it didn’t last, you know.

Appelbaum:  There’s always more.

Rollins:  There is–that I know.  I know there’s, I mean, there’s no doubt about that.

So, since I know that, you see, I have hope.  I can, I can practice and I know, because I

know there’s no doubt about that.  There’s more.  There’s a lot more, see.  It’s like when

they started looking at the um Hubble Telescope, and they’re looking and they’re looking

for the end of the uh universe.  We’re going to see all these things.  And they looked up

there and they said, “Wait a minute.  We thought that was the end of the universe, but

there’s so much more stuff beyond that.”  There’s so many more universes we thought,

you know, we were going, you know, make a picture then.  So, that’s how life is really.

That’s how life is, and music.  Anything that’s real, there’s no fine, fine, finite, you

know.  There’s nothing finite about real things.

Appelbaum:  It’s only the end of the beginning.

Rollins:  The end of the beginning.

For more on the Smithsonian Institution’s Jazz Oral History Program (http://bit.ly/efqGXA) and the NEA’s Jazz Masters Program (http://www.nea.gov/honors/jazz/index.html). Special thanks to Ken Kimery and Terri Hinte.