"I'm here representing the past 120 years of musicians who just weren't quite good enough to play here." - Former President Bill Clinton, also a saxophone player, earlier tonight at Carnegie Hall's 120th Anniversary James Taylor Concert.
He continued by saying that he used to walk by Carnegie Hall when he was younger, thinking to himself, "If only I were a little bit better..."
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Memorable Meetings: Harold Mabern
After reading pianist George Colligan's excellent blog post on the kindness and generosity of the legendary pianist Harold Mabern (A Short Story About Harold Mabern), I was reminded of an encounter I had with him a few years ago at a Herbie Hancock concert at Carnegie Hall.
It was after the show and I was standing outside of the hall next to the dressing room door where Herbie would eventually exit to get in the waiting car. There were a whole lot of fans doing the same, wanting to meet Herbie and the rest of the band too. Standing there, I noticed a man who looked very familiar. I knew it was Harold Mabern, but it took me a minute to believe it; I figured such a legend would certainly be backstage with Herbie instead of waiting outside of the dressing room with all of us fans.
I was 17 at the time and wasn't too familiar with Mabern, but I did know a few of the recordings I'd heard of him with Wes Montgomery and Lee Morgan. I introduced myself to him, saying that I was a pianist and that the recordings I had heard of him had been very inspiring. He thanked me and he began to start up a conversation, which surprised me; I never figured that a legend like that would be the one continuing the conversation.
He began to speak to me very excitedly about how much he had enjoyed and been inspired by the show. He said that after a show like that he knew what'd be in store for him when he got home. "I'll be practicing all night," he said.
He reminded me of myself and other young musician friends of mine; speaking so fast and excitedly about how pumped up that concert made him, how he hoped that one day he could do the things that Herbie had done that night.
After a few minutes, he said that he'd really wanted to say hello to his friend Herbie, but that he had to get home to practice. He told me that when I did get to meet Herbie to please send say hello for him.
It was so exciting to see such an accomplished musician, a true legend, not only waiting outside like a fan to express his gratitude to Herbie Hancock, but to also see someone like that so inspired and excited to go home and practice, that after a while, he couldn't wait any longer; he had to get home and practice.
It was very inspiring to see the forever-student side of a true jazz legend. I can only hope to go through life with such continued excitement for my passions. My encounter with the great Harold Mabern has and will continue to give me hope and inspiration that I can.
It was after the show and I was standing outside of the hall next to the dressing room door where Herbie would eventually exit to get in the waiting car. There were a whole lot of fans doing the same, wanting to meet Herbie and the rest of the band too. Standing there, I noticed a man who looked very familiar. I knew it was Harold Mabern, but it took me a minute to believe it; I figured such a legend would certainly be backstage with Herbie instead of waiting outside of the dressing room with all of us fans.
I was 17 at the time and wasn't too familiar with Mabern, but I did know a few of the recordings I'd heard of him with Wes Montgomery and Lee Morgan. I introduced myself to him, saying that I was a pianist and that the recordings I had heard of him had been very inspiring. He thanked me and he began to start up a conversation, which surprised me; I never figured that a legend like that would be the one continuing the conversation.
He began to speak to me very excitedly about how much he had enjoyed and been inspired by the show. He said that after a show like that he knew what'd be in store for him when he got home. "I'll be practicing all night," he said.
He reminded me of myself and other young musician friends of mine; speaking so fast and excitedly about how pumped up that concert made him, how he hoped that one day he could do the things that Herbie had done that night.
After a few minutes, he said that he'd really wanted to say hello to his friend Herbie, but that he had to get home to practice. He told me that when I did get to meet Herbie to please send say hello for him.
It was so exciting to see such an accomplished musician, a true legend, not only waiting outside like a fan to express his gratitude to Herbie Hancock, but to also see someone like that so inspired and excited to go home and practice, that after a while, he couldn't wait any longer; he had to get home and practice.
It was very inspiring to see the forever-student side of a true jazz legend. I can only hope to go through life with such continued excitement for my passions. My encounter with the great Harold Mabern has and will continue to give me hope and inspiration that I can.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Memorable Moments: Gerald Wilson
At the 2011 NEA Jazz Masters Awards & Ceremony Panel Discussion with the then soon-to-be named Jazz Masters, a lady in the audience -during the audience Q&A- rambles on and on for five or so minutes about how people today are quickly forgetting or have already forgotten the great music and musicians of the past, and finally, in an almost-fury, yells out, "I mean how many of you know who Jimmie Lunceford is?"
Sitting a few rows in front of her is the great Gerald Wilson, one of Lunceford's former trumpeters and arrangers (he joined Lunceford in 1939!), and, amongst a room full of raised hands, Wilson smiles and raises his too.
Sitting a few rows in front of her is the great Gerald Wilson, one of Lunceford's former trumpeters and arrangers (he joined Lunceford in 1939!), and, amongst a room full of raised hands, Wilson smiles and raises his too.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Memorable Meetings: Michel Legrand
I recently saw the great Michel Legrand perform at the Blue Note. After the show, he was greeting fans and well-wishers in his dressing room. I waited in a short line before it was my turn to say hello.
I introduced myself to him as a pianist, wanting to say next that he has been a long-time inspiration to me. However, before I could tell him what a inspiration he has been -in fact, as soon as I said that I was a pianist-, Legrand stopped me mid-sentence and said, "Let me see your hands." I laid them out in front of him, spreading my fingers wide. He grabbed my hands, looked at them, and was quiet for about five or six seconds, obviously in deep thought.
Finally, he broke the silence. "Okay," he said, nodding his head. "You have good hands for the piano."
I introduced myself to him as a pianist, wanting to say next that he has been a long-time inspiration to me. However, before I could tell him what a inspiration he has been -in fact, as soon as I said that I was a pianist-, Legrand stopped me mid-sentence and said, "Let me see your hands." I laid them out in front of him, spreading my fingers wide. He grabbed my hands, looked at them, and was quiet for about five or six seconds, obviously in deep thought.
Finally, he broke the silence. "Okay," he said, nodding his head. "You have good hands for the piano."
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Dr. Billy Taylor (1921-2010)
One thing that’s always stuck out in my head about Dr. Billy Taylor was how he pronounced Erroll Garner’s last name. “Gah-nuh,” or “Gahr-nuh,” he’d say. Not “Gar-ner”, like we say today. His pronunciation made the last name sound almost royal and Dr. Taylor, being the first jazz legend I ever spent a good amount of time with, made me feel –with just that simple and honest name pronunciation – welcomed into his world and into a bygone era of jazz greatness.
I was very fortunate to have spent a bit of time with Dr. Taylor at Jazz In July, a summer program that he founded at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. I went for one summer and there, was treated with a two-hour group piano lesson from Dr. Taylor each morning for two full weeks.
Dr. Taylor was just a thrill to be around. I remember the first day of the program, when the entire faculty performed; I introduced myself to him at the end of the concert. I was very young at the time, fully obsessed with jazz, but not very good at playing it. I couldn’t resist, in that introduction, asking him about Ed Thigpen (my favorite drummer at the time). He was so kind and I remember being taken aback by how long he spent telling me about Thigpen and how much he enjoyed playing with him. “Mingus stole him from me though,” he said, laughing.
The group lessons were a thrill. They were difficult too; it was the very first time I’ve played for one of my heroes, and it was extremely nerve-racking for me to play for him. But he was very encouraging, and helpful too. He showed me things that no book could. I remember playing “Misty” one day. After I finished, Dr. Taylor sat down at the piano and showed me a few ideas, things that Erroll Garner had showed him directly. He told me that he spent many late nights with Erroll in the late 1940’s, playing piano duets late into the night after each had finished their gigs on 52nd Street.
Dr. Taylor would always stay after class and was always eager to talk with us. I remember one day in specific; we must have stayed for an hour and a half past the end of class. Dr. Taylor told us the wildest stories I’d ever heard. He told us about one specific gig with Sonny Rollins where Sonny was late. Billy’s trio began to play and, all of the sudden, in the middle of the tune, Sonny made his way down the stairs of the club, blowing his horn powerfully, mid song.
He told us about his days at Atlantic Records in the early 1960’s. He said that, for a while, they were looking for a “new sound” and they thought that he, Dr. Taylor, mght help them find it. Every day he’d go to the Atlantic Records office and play some new music they’d give him. Every day they’d say, “No, that’s not it.” Then, one day, he came in to work and they said, “Mr. Taylor (I remember him saying “I wasn’t a Doctor then.”), we’re sorry, but we’ve found the sound we’re looking for.”
“Oh yeah?” He asked. “What’s that?”
“A young, blind pianist named Ray Charles.”
Dr. Taylor then looked at us, laughed, and said “I remember saying to them, ‘A blind pianist? That’ll never last.’”
One day, I worked up the nerve to show Dr. Taylor a stride piece I was working on, “Lulu’s Back In Town.” I really couldn’t play stride very well back then, but I wanted to see what Dr. Taylor would say. After playing it, he showed me a few different ways of playing stride on that particular piece. Then he told me about the time he got shown up by the great Jelly Roll Morton!
He said it was in Washington, D.C. and it was during the period that Billy was really known as a great, young, modern pianist. He had been ignorant of Jelly Roll Morton but decided to go down to listen to him play at a club. Apparently, Jelly Roll got word that some young “hotshots” were in the house, and he approached their table. He looked at Dr. Taylor and his friends and said, “I bet you can’t play this,” and then walked backed to the piano and played something. “He was right,” Dr. Taylor said, laughing. “I couldn’t play it.”
After my time at the summer program I only had a few more run-ins with Dr. Taylor, but each time, he remembered me and asked me very specific questions about what I was studying on the piano.
It always made me feel like a million bucks because whenever I’d see him, we’d be among the jazz royalty, and he’d talk to me for ten or fifteen minutes, genuinely interested in my studies. I remember seeing him at the 2010 NEA Jazz Masters Awards, where I was volunteering. I greeted him right when he got off the elevator. Standing next to me was Roy Haynes, Jimmy Heath, James Moody, and Gerald Wilson. Before saying hello to them, he engaged me in conversation for five minutes or so, asking me what I was working on the piano.
That day, part of my duties as a volunteer was to bring Dr. Taylor to his car. I walked him to the hotel lobby and, as it turns out, his driver was close to an hour late. So for almost an hour, we sat and talked. He told me fantastic stories about Monk, Art Tatum, Oscar Peterson, Dave McKenna, Willie “The Lion” Smith and many others (Our entire conversation is listed in my post below, from January 2010, about the 2010 NEA Jazz Master Awards.). It was a very special hour for me, and also the last time I’d see Dr. Taylor.
Sitting at his memorial service this past January was especially poignant. The church where the service was being held was packed, and watching the people’s faces and listening to their conversations I realized that I was sitting with many hundreds of people who had similar stories of Dr. Taylor’s kindness and making them too feel like “a million bucks.” At the beginning of the service the preacher announced: “One of the things that I’ve never had the opportunity to do in the Riverside Church…and especially in remembering someone as great as Billy Taylor, was to ask everyone to stand to their feet and give this man the kind of ovation that he truly deserves.” I got the chills. No one deserved that ovation more than Dr. Taylor did.
Every time I learn something on the piano, I ask myself if what I learned is something I'd be proud to show Dr. Taylor. To me, everything about Dr. Taylor was tops. Dr. Taylor was an extremely kind person and he will continue to inspire me for the rest of my life.
I was very fortunate to have spent a bit of time with Dr. Taylor at Jazz In July, a summer program that he founded at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. I went for one summer and there, was treated with a two-hour group piano lesson from Dr. Taylor each morning for two full weeks.
Dr. Taylor was just a thrill to be around. I remember the first day of the program, when the entire faculty performed; I introduced myself to him at the end of the concert. I was very young at the time, fully obsessed with jazz, but not very good at playing it. I couldn’t resist, in that introduction, asking him about Ed Thigpen (my favorite drummer at the time). He was so kind and I remember being taken aback by how long he spent telling me about Thigpen and how much he enjoyed playing with him. “Mingus stole him from me though,” he said, laughing.
The group lessons were a thrill. They were difficult too; it was the very first time I’ve played for one of my heroes, and it was extremely nerve-racking for me to play for him. But he was very encouraging, and helpful too. He showed me things that no book could. I remember playing “Misty” one day. After I finished, Dr. Taylor sat down at the piano and showed me a few ideas, things that Erroll Garner had showed him directly. He told me that he spent many late nights with Erroll in the late 1940’s, playing piano duets late into the night after each had finished their gigs on 52nd Street.
Dr. Taylor would always stay after class and was always eager to talk with us. I remember one day in specific; we must have stayed for an hour and a half past the end of class. Dr. Taylor told us the wildest stories I’d ever heard. He told us about one specific gig with Sonny Rollins where Sonny was late. Billy’s trio began to play and, all of the sudden, in the middle of the tune, Sonny made his way down the stairs of the club, blowing his horn powerfully, mid song.
He told us about his days at Atlantic Records in the early 1960’s. He said that, for a while, they were looking for a “new sound” and they thought that he, Dr. Taylor, mght help them find it. Every day he’d go to the Atlantic Records office and play some new music they’d give him. Every day they’d say, “No, that’s not it.” Then, one day, he came in to work and they said, “Mr. Taylor (I remember him saying “I wasn’t a Doctor then.”), we’re sorry, but we’ve found the sound we’re looking for.”
“Oh yeah?” He asked. “What’s that?”
“A young, blind pianist named Ray Charles.”
Dr. Taylor then looked at us, laughed, and said “I remember saying to them, ‘A blind pianist? That’ll never last.’”
One day, I worked up the nerve to show Dr. Taylor a stride piece I was working on, “Lulu’s Back In Town.” I really couldn’t play stride very well back then, but I wanted to see what Dr. Taylor would say. After playing it, he showed me a few different ways of playing stride on that particular piece. Then he told me about the time he got shown up by the great Jelly Roll Morton!
He said it was in Washington, D.C. and it was during the period that Billy was really known as a great, young, modern pianist. He had been ignorant of Jelly Roll Morton but decided to go down to listen to him play at a club. Apparently, Jelly Roll got word that some young “hotshots” were in the house, and he approached their table. He looked at Dr. Taylor and his friends and said, “I bet you can’t play this,” and then walked backed to the piano and played something. “He was right,” Dr. Taylor said, laughing. “I couldn’t play it.”
After my time at the summer program I only had a few more run-ins with Dr. Taylor, but each time, he remembered me and asked me very specific questions about what I was studying on the piano.
It always made me feel like a million bucks because whenever I’d see him, we’d be among the jazz royalty, and he’d talk to me for ten or fifteen minutes, genuinely interested in my studies. I remember seeing him at the 2010 NEA Jazz Masters Awards, where I was volunteering. I greeted him right when he got off the elevator. Standing next to me was Roy Haynes, Jimmy Heath, James Moody, and Gerald Wilson. Before saying hello to them, he engaged me in conversation for five minutes or so, asking me what I was working on the piano.
That day, part of my duties as a volunteer was to bring Dr. Taylor to his car. I walked him to the hotel lobby and, as it turns out, his driver was close to an hour late. So for almost an hour, we sat and talked. He told me fantastic stories about Monk, Art Tatum, Oscar Peterson, Dave McKenna, Willie “The Lion” Smith and many others (Our entire conversation is listed in my post below, from January 2010, about the 2010 NEA Jazz Master Awards.). It was a very special hour for me, and also the last time I’d see Dr. Taylor.
Sitting at his memorial service this past January was especially poignant. The church where the service was being held was packed, and watching the people’s faces and listening to their conversations I realized that I was sitting with many hundreds of people who had similar stories of Dr. Taylor’s kindness and making them too feel like “a million bucks.” At the beginning of the service the preacher announced: “One of the things that I’ve never had the opportunity to do in the Riverside Church…and especially in remembering someone as great as Billy Taylor, was to ask everyone to stand to their feet and give this man the kind of ovation that he truly deserves.” I got the chills. No one deserved that ovation more than Dr. Taylor did.
Every time I learn something on the piano, I ask myself if what I learned is something I'd be proud to show Dr. Taylor. To me, everything about Dr. Taylor was tops. Dr. Taylor was an extremely kind person and he will continue to inspire me for the rest of my life.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Memorable Quote: Maria Schneider
"Playing music is the lifelong pursuit of figuring out who you are." -Maria Schneider, at an interview at Barnes and Noble on Manhattan's Upper East Side.
Memorable Quote: Gary Burton
"I could tell that he was really playing, not just imitating someone really playing." -Gary Burton, at a masterclass at NYU, on guitarist Julian Lage.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
