Showing posts with label American art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label American art. Show all posts

Saturday, March 14, 2015

HAPPY 90TH BIRTHDAY TO THE LEGENDARY AND ICONIC DRUMMER ROY HAYNES (b. March 13, 1925)

ROY HAYNES
(b. March 13, 1925)




All,

The great Roy Haynes is without a doubt one of the greatest and most important musicians in the history of Jazz whose monumental contributions to the art of creative music over the past 70 years (!) have been--and continue to be--nothing short of astonishing.  The only living legend of the music who has played and recorded with every single major/essential figure in the past century of American music from Louis Armstrong, Lester Young, Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, Sonny Rollins, and Miles Davis to Sarah Vaughan, Eric Dolphy, Andrew Hill, Jackie McLean and John Coltrane, Haynes is not only a national treasure but given his pervasive impact and creative influence on generations of younger musicians. composers, and improvisors throughout the world he is a global one as well.  Happy 90th birthday Mr. Haynes and may your eternally hip, suave, and gracefully stylish presence continue to inspire and educate us all...

Kofi 
 

Legacy

When Your Grandfather Is The Greatest Living Jazz Drummer
February 06, 2013
by Angelika Beener
NPR     
   

Marcus Gilmore (left) and Roy Haynes perform together in Washington, D.C., in 2009. Haynes' daughter is Gilmore's mother.  Theo Wargo/Getty Images         

The drummer Marcus Gilmore is coming off a major year in his career. In 2012, DownBeat magazine named him its top Rising Star Drummer in its long-running Critics Poll; pianist Vijay Iyer's trio, of which Gilmore is a member, also took the Jazz Album and Jazz Group of the Year categories. Over the last decade, he's worked with an esteemed roll call of performers including Cassandra Wilson, Nicholas Payton, Kenny Garrett and the legendary pianist Chick Corea, with whom he just recorded a new album. He's currently in the studio working on a solo project.

Gilmore is 25.

It's no secret that he's also the grandson of iconic drummer Roy Haynes, but it's not something Gilmore wears on his sleeve — at least not in a typical sense. While he says he doesn't feel any pressure to follow in such enormous footsteps, he does intently advocate for his grandfather's rightful legacy.

"What people don't realize, when they talk about people like Roy Haynes as one of the great jazz drummers, is that really he is one of the original drummers creating the language for everybody," Gilmore told me in a backstage interview, in between sets with Iyer at the Jazz Standard in New York. "But people don't think about it like that; they think of him as a jazz great. But the thing is really the drum — the trap set — is pretty new, maybe like 100 years. If you're playing that much drums in 1945, that means you're one of the pioneers of the instrument."

In addition to hundreds of recording and performance credits — including those with Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Sarah Vaughan, Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane — Roy Haynes is also one of the foremost architects of contemporary jazz practice. Arguably, he is the preeminent living jazz musician.

 

Gilmore's relationship with this 87-year-old legend, his grandfather, is a story of close family ties, an acute sense of history and profound musical irony.

Raising A Drummer

Gilmore was raised in Hollis, Queens, a New York City neighborhood renowned as a settling place of jazz musicians for decades. His musical pedigree runs deep on both sides of his family. His father, a saxophonist, and his mother, a singer, had a gospel group in the '70s. His uncle Craig Haynes, Roy Haynes' son and also a drummer, lived upstairs. Another uncle Graham Haynes, also son to Roy, is a cornetist,  composer and one of the founding members of the M-Base Collective.

Music was inescapable, but Gilmore came to the drums on his own terms. In fact, he had to convince his grandfather that percussion was his passion. "I knew I wanted to be a drummer as a profession at 7 years old," he says. "I knew at that point, but I don't know if everybody else knew I was as serious as I was." It would be three more years until Gilmore received his first drum set. On his 10th birthday, his grandfather gave him the one he'd been using.

Both Haynes and Gilmore started their professional careers as teenagers. But while Gilmore attended LaGuardia High School (New York City's arts magnet), The Juilliard School's Music Advancement Program and The Manhattan School of Music, Haynes is primarily self-taught. "He would say, 'Back in my day it's what you call [being] a natural,'" Gilmore says. "I remember it was so simple, the way he would explain things. 'Just start here, and then take it wherever you want to take it ... that sounds about right,' and that was that.

"It was really good for my development," Gilmore adds. "It wasn't that his views were so definitive. He allowed me to find my voice, the way he gave me the information. He was never dictating how things should turn out. He was giving me so much information without saying much at all. Older, wiser people usually do."

While Haynes wasn't giving his grandson formal lessons, he was grooming him for the inevitable. Gilmore was sitting in with his grandfather while still a junior in high school. In 2002, Haynes' Fountain of Youth band was closing out a jam-packed week at the club Birdland, which would become part of a live album. After the set, Haynes introduced the audience to Gilmore, and summoned him on stage to take a solo.

Now He Sings

Around the same time, Haynes started watering the seeds of another pivotal relationship between Gilmore and one of Haynes' longtime friends and colleagues: Chick Corea. The pianist and Haynes have been playing together since the 1960s. "I actually got to play with [Corea] during a Blue Note run [celebrating his birthday]," Gilmore says. "You know, I would always tell Gail, his wife, that we would always play 'Windows' in high school, and she was really happy to hear that. She said, 'Maybe you all can perform for Chick?' and I said that sounded great.

"Then she said, 'Or maybe you can play it with Chick,' and I said, 'Um... that would be great. Yeah, let's go with that one!' And so he let me sit in and I got to play with him and I got to play with [Christian] McBride and Joshua [Redman], and it was amazing. I was really nervous. I do remember after we played it, my grandfather was like, 'You didn't give him a solo!' Then we played 'Straight No Chaser,' and Chick let me solo the whole song."

Chick Corea discusses a passage with Marcus Gilmore during the recording sessions for the two-disc set The Continents. Corea recently recorded another album featuring Gilmore. i
Chick Corea discusses a passage with Marcus Gilmore during the recording sessions for the two-disc set The Continents. Corea recently recorded another album featuring Gilmore.

This relationship would blossom over the next few years. Gilmore was quickly becoming an in-demand drummer, playing with stars like Ravi Coltrane, Clark Terry and Nicholas Payton. Corea eventually asked Gilmore to go on tour with him. "There's no pressure," Gilmore says. "Definitely no pressure from my grandfather, not from myself and not from my family or Chick. Maybe some people in the audience, but I don't really tap into that too much, so it's cool. But there is some irony there. I think it's beautiful, and I know Chick does, too, and I know my grandfather does for sure; he always talks about that."

In 1968, Corea, Haynes and bassist Miroslav Vitous recorded the album Now He Sings, Now He Sobs. Now seen as a landmark record in modern jazz, Now He Sings was one of the first recordings to feature a flat ride cymbal — which Haynes played, of course. Created by the Paiste cymbal company in the 1960s, the flat ride has no bell, giving it a tighter, brighter sound.

Gilmore recently recorded with Corea using that very same ride cymbal. "I mean, of course, for other reasons that record was groundbreaking, but that was one of the things; it was like, 'What's this cymbal [Haynes is] using?'" Gilmore says. "Of course, it's the way he's playing — obviously that's what it comes down to — but the cymbal was pretty different [for that era], so throughout the years, Chick would borrow it from time to time, because there weren't that many at the time. So eventually, in the late '90s, my grandfather gave it to him. Chick broke it out on the first tour I did with him, so I played it on that tour — and on this last record, I played it, as well."

'So Much Information'

Haynes has been a part of several seminal trio recordings, and led his own dynamic trio in the early 2000s, featuring Danilo Perez and John Patitucci. Similarly, Gilmore is making his mark as more than a capable sideman: His musical identity can be integral to the distinctiveness of a band.

Such is the case of the Vijay Iyer Trio, one of the most creative ensembles of the last decade. Gilmore and Iyer have been playing together for just that long, meeting through mutual mentor Steve Coleman. (Gilmore's uncle Graham Haynes, who helped establish M-Base philosophies with Coleman, was responsible for that connection.) Coleman's tutelage proved influential for both musicians, especially in cultivating their interests in non-Western musical traditions. "Most people tend to think of rhythm as secondary to melody or harmony," Gilmore says. "I feel that our work with Steve has furthered our understanding that they are all at the very least paramount in developing one's musical ability. However, it's safe to say that the most recent innovations in music have their foundation in rhythm."

The emergence of hip-hop helps to illustrate Gilmore's point. There's a strong hip-hop influence in Iyer's trio, and between the pianist and his drummer, the two have collaborated with artists like Das Racist, Dead Prez and Flying Lotus. Yet this, too, is just part of a myriad of influences that Gilmore readily admits is ever-evolving and expanding. "One thing I can say is that I listen to a lot of music," Gilmore says. "I spend a lot of time listening. I always try to approach things with an open mind, and I actually thrive on being involved in contrasting situations. It actually helps everything when I'm involved in expressing different parts of myself. I always try to take so much in, and I also have so much in me that I have to express. So I just feel like, for me, it's the most natural thing to be playing with so many different projects, because I have so much to say, but I think that's a result of taking in so much information."

This may be the most profound parallel yet between Haynes and his grandson. Haynes' 60-year career not only encompasses many eras of jazz, but his dexterity in both rhythm and style has taken him across the musical map and beyond genre classification.

"His open-mindedness is definitely one of the reasons he's remained so fresh," Gilmore says. "Another reason is that it was just something he was born with, because in some ways, his playing hasn't changed that much. It's evolved, but in some ways he was playing all that same bad s— in the '40s. I don't know where he got it from. To have him is a treasure. A treasure to the family, but also as a national treasure, too, actually.

"It's really just a huge blessing," he adds. "I mean, you know, it's all I've ever known, but at the same time it's still amazing."

As Gilmore and I wrapped up our conversation, he paused before preparing for the next set. "My mother was going to try to bring [Haynes] down to the club at some point, but I know he has to go on a cruise this weekend. So he probably won't make it out, especially with the bad weather. But my mom called me and said, 'Grandpa said he might not make it, but he said, "If Marcus is there, I'm there."'"


RELATED:

Roy Haynes Fountain Of Youth Band On JazzSet
First Listen: Roy Haynes, 'Roy-alty'
Here's Roy Haynes On David Letterman


https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Panopticon-Review/342702882479366

All,

This is the magnificent Roy Haynes at 88 years of age in 2013 appearing with his ensemble Fountain of Youth on the David Letterman program...Wanna hear/see/experience what GREAT ART really is all about?  Check this out...and pass the word...

Kofi


ROY HAYNES AND HIS 'FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH' QUARTET ON DAVID LETTERMAN SHOW

Roy Haynes: Drums
Jaleel Shaw : Saxophone
Martin Bejerano: Piano
David Wong: Bass






The following is a video interview with Mr. Haynes in 2012:

 
http://www.midatlanticjazzfestival.org presents an in-depth talk with Jazz percussion legend Roy Haynes, with Nasar Abadey, at the 2012 Mid-Atlantic Jazz Festival. Roy talks about his first drum set, how he never played with Duke Ellington's Orchestra, gigging with Charlie Parker and Lester Young, and other memories, as well as offering some of his tap dancing expertise.



....And still another incredible live performance by Roy and his Fountain of Youth ensemble in Vienna in 2013:



http://jazztimes.com/articles/16173-roy-haynes-snap-crackle

Roy Haynes: Snap Crackle
November 2005
by Ashley Kahn
Jazz Times

 
Roy Haynes is slightly surprised by the comment. Of course there's an erotic charge in the way he plays drums. "I've been noticing in the last 10 or 15 years, a lot of ladies come up after my performances," he says. "Some of them say they never heard a drummer play like that."

Youthful swagger and confidence still comes easily to the man who hit 80 this past March. Haynes talks it, walks it and wears it. His fashion sense, like his crisp and energetic drum work, has been part of his signature for decades-bassist Al McKibbon didn't dub him "Snap Crackle"  for nothing. "He's the most stylish person in the room, at all times," says Jeff "Tain" Watts. "He's been that way for a long time. I read this stuff about him being in Esquire magazine back in the '60s. Yeah-'Snap Crackle,' that says a lot."

Like a well-tailored suit, the nickname Haynes has worn since the '50s continues to fit him well. With a two-stick snare shot, Haynes can still bring a packed nightclub to immediate attention. It's a trick he's been using a lot this year while on the road with his Fountain of Youth band, one of today's most exciting quartets. But if there's one thing that can break Haynes' cool-briefly-it's his sudden status as an octogenarian.

"Eight zero? Man that's unheard of," he shakes his head with mock seriousness. "I didn't know I would ever turn 80. But here it is. Just crept up on me."

Of course, most of the jazz world has been ready, impatient even, to help mark Haynes' milestone. Almost every Haynes gig in 2005 has involved a toast and a drum-shaped cake. "Even before my birthday," the drummer recalls of his hometown, "the mayor in Boston made it 'Roy Haynes Day.'"

On March 16, the day he turned 80, old friends like Chick Corea-and younger ones like Watts-flew to the Bay Area to celebrate with Haynes at Yoshi's. Soon after, in New York City, the drummer had a week's run at the Village Vanguard, and on its Sunday close Haynes' fellow stickmen Jimmy Cobb, Ben Riley, Louis Hayes, Billy Hart and Kenny Washington all dropped by between sets. In New Orleans a few weeks later, Haynes stepped out from behind his kit with microphone in hand-a set-ending move he's become known for-and acknowledged the cheers of the capacity JazzFest crowd. Back in New York City in mid-June, the Jazz Journalists Association declared him drummer of the year.

"It's been pretty good," Haynes says, "but I tell you, I try to take each day at a time. I dream a lot. I think a lot." Snap Crackle chuckles for a moment and adds, "I just like to get on the bandstand and play."

Roy Owen Haynes is old-school hip. He likes to use the term "too tough" in place of "very much." In conversation, he can take charge, leading it in the direction he chooses, preferring the give-and-take of a good chat to an interview-an exercise he approaches guardedly. "Who's this for?" he wants to be reminded before we speak. "What are we talking about?"

Haynes has been approached by "too many people out there who just want to know stuff. They got their questions, they get their answers, but they can't get beyond that. You know I'm good when I'm performing late in the evening, when I'm into my instrument, I can have answers. If they have good ears and good imagination they can get it while I'm serving it. I don't have to talk about it."

One can understand the awe that must strike many who get a moment with the man. He is the legend who backed legends, a direct link back to Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Lester Young, Sarah Vaughan, Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane. As a leader, his albums are few, but most have become classics: Cymbalism, Out of the Afternoon, We Three. Over a celebrated 60-year career, he has become an ageless, energetic presence, continues to front lineups bursting with young talent and was named a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the Arts in 1995. That year marked the 50th anniversary of his arrival on the national jazz scene, when the Roxbury, Mass.-born native first played in New York City. It's a story he never tires of telling.

"It was a Savoy-ballroom gig in September, 1945. I was playing in New England, Martha's Vineyard to be exact, with a small band from around Boston. I got a special-delivery letter that came from [big band pioneer] Luis Russell, whom I had never met but he was hearing about me. I responded by sending a telegram telling him I was interested in joining the band but couldn't join until after Labor Day. That was the start."

World War II had just ended. The economy was jumping, and so was uptown.

"Harlem was roaring in those days. I had been to New York before because my brother was in the Army. We would come, my father and his wife, and spend time with him and go down to 52nd Street and that whole thing. But [in '45] I was my own man and excited as heck!"

Before the decade ended Haynes became drummer of choice for large and small groups, joining headliners like Lester Young in '47 and, two  years later, Charlie Parker. "I was playing this so-called bebop, but I was a swing drummer and people were dancing while I was playing with  Bird, for a little while, anyhow," Haynes says. "From then to now, they're not dancing too tough when I play. But just last summer or the summer before, I was in Harlem at the Charlie Parker festival. We were doing a ballad-something slow-and there was a guy out there dancing to it, making a lot of sense."

It also makes sense Haynes focuses on dance as a way of measuring the progress of his career. Even as he left the ballrooms behind to play behind beboppers like Miles Davis, Kai Winding and Bud Powell, he maintained a giddy, dance-floor effect in his style. It's there on many recordings from the early '50s: I mention two piano-drum jump-ups-"Little Willie Leaps" and "Woody N'You"-on Powell's Inner Fires LP, a live trio gig from '53 that features the drummer and the pianist with Charles Mingus. Haynes recalls the date and his friend in his prime, before mental-health problems started dogging Powell.

"During that period Bud was in an institution. Sometimes he would go to the bridge several times-a lot of weird stuff. But I knew him before, in '45, '46, when we were all 20, 21 years old, before they had given him that shock treatment. That was a whole different Bud Powell. We used to play together a lot at Minton's. I used to go by his house on 141st and St. Nicholas Avenue, and he'd play-he'd play. He was mucho fuego then, on fire!"

As the '50s rolled on, Haynes honed his style. He became known for a melodic sense more associated with the timbales than a trap kit, and for a distinct, self-assured sound. Charles Mingus lauded him for his ability to suggest, rather than state, a beat. Tain Watts says Haynes "has a thing, playing over the time, where it feels like it's free but it's also grooving at the same time-like he has an internal clave or an African clock inside of him that makes it feel rooted. I'd say his fingerprints are definitely the cymbal beat-always pretty and relaxed, yet swinging very, very hard-and the sound of his snare drum, always crisp and high and dry, crackling and exciting."

That sound has proved versatile, too. Haynes worked with Sarah Vaughan for five years, then joined Thelonious Monk from '57 to '59. By '63 he began filling in for Elvin Jones in John Coltrane's quartet, praised by the saxophonist for the way he "stretched the rhythm."

"I just tried to fit in," Haynes says. "One thing about all these different people, they were familiar with me, so I could just go in and do my thing, while listening all the time to what's happening. I can't really describe what I did too tough. I still just go by feeling."

Through the '60s, Haynes added his liberated approach to bands led by George Shearing, Kenny Burrell and Stan Getz, in whose lineup he first met a young pianist named Chick Corea, with whom he would repeatedly team up over the years. Asked to list his favorite sideman recordings, Haynes offers the tunes that others repeatedly mention.

"The one I hear about a lot is that 'Shulie a Bop' with Sarah Vaughan, which was in [1954]-where she introduces the trio in the song, and just before she says my name I say, "Bap!" And she says "Roy!" I say "Bap-bap-bap!" "Haynes!" That's one of the ones. Then there's one with Chick Corea, "Now He Sings, Now He Sobs," that people still talk about all over the world. I was just in Paris a few days ago doing a master class, and naturally somebody brought the record with them. Then there would be 1963 at Newport: "My Favorite Things" with Coltrane, the 18-minute version. I didn't even know that was going to be recorded at the time!"

Of his own favorite recordings as a leader, Haynes is quick to cite 1962's "Out of the Afternoon, the one with [saxophonist] Rahsaan Roland Kirk, [pianist] Tommy Flanagan and [bassist] Henry Grimes. In fact, I got a royalty [payment] just today for it and went to the bank."

Among Afternoon's seven spirited tracks, a standout is "Long Wharf," featuring Haynes vigorously skipping through a brisk set of changes and jaw-dropping breaks. Mention of the tune elicits a warm chuckle: "That's one of my compositions, something I had developed with my group on the bandstand," Haynes says. "Like the tune 'Snap Crackle' that's on there, too. Other musicians called me that, and I always thought it'd be a good title, and I decided to do an introduction like 'Shulie a Bop.' That's Tommy saying 'Roy!' and 'Haynes!' We tried it first with Rahsaan, but for some reason he was sort of spaced," Haynes laughs.

Afternoon was a one-off album for Impulse, inspired by some club jamming.

"During that period I was playing at the Five Spot a lot," Haynes says. "Rahsaan had recently come from Ohio or Chicago or someplace, and  he had his own group on the same bill, and we were jamming a little. Henry worked with me quite a bit then and Tommy too. Those guys were kicking butt! We got excited about the idea of doing something together, so I took it to [Impulse head] Bob Thiele, and we did it. [Engineer] Rudy Van Gelder is a big part of that album as well; he got that great drum sound at his studio in New Jersey."

Despite the satisfaction he found in his recordings as a leader, Haynes has balanced his sideman role with that of a headliner through most of his career. In 1970, he established his Hip Ensemble: a rotating, modernist lineup that often featured an electric keyboardist (like Stanley Cowell) or guitarist (Hannibal Peterson, Kevin Eubanks) and usually a saxophonist under the spell of Coltrane (John Klemmer, Ralph Moore, George Adams). As the '80s arrived, he took on another project-forming the lean, hard-charging group the Trio with Chick Corea and Miroslav Vitous-and before the decade ended, served as big-name sideman behind Pat Metheny.

But it's Haynes' inclination to lead that has defined his career in recent years:

"I played with everybody," he says. "But when I was trying to make them sound good, a lot of things I had in mind I didn't do. I think it has a lot to do with me having my own project. Now I do anything I want to do with my own groups."

In 2000 Haynes formed a trio with pianist Danilo Perez and bassist John Patitucci and recorded material for The Roy Haynes Trio (Verve) that drew from all phases of his varied career, including "Shulie a Bop." A year later, he recruited an all-star lineup-trumpeter Roy Hargrove, bassist Dave Holland, saxophonist Kenny Garrett and pianist Dave Kikoski-for his Charlie Parker tribute, Birds of a Feather (Dreyfus). And in 2002 there was a stunning session, ultimately released on Columbia/Eighty-Eight's as Love Letters, that featured guitarist John Scofield, tenor Joshua Redman and, alternately, pianists Kikoski or Kenny Barron and bassists Holland or Christian McBride.

But Haynes is most interested in talking about his current working quartet, Fountain of Youth, with saxman Marcus Strickland, pianist Martin Bejerano and bassist John Sullivan.

"I never expected the record Fountain of Youth on Dreyfus to be nominated for a Grammy," he says. "They only nominate five-that's a pretty great compliment. All the guys when we did the record were in their 20s. I was in my late 70s at the time. But when we get onstage we all become the same age." 


The band began to come together a few years ago, with Strickland's self-introduction an important first step.
"I was at the Blue Note in New York one time when Milt Jackson had a big band there [in the late '90s] and I was at the bar," Haynes says. "Marcus comes in with these horns over his shoulders; he was only filling in for a player with Milt at the time. He came right up to me and said, 'Roy Haynes, I want to play with you'-many years before we played together. I don't usually have rules for getting into my band. Then Marcus recommended Martin-they're both from Miami-and he recommended John on bass. That's the connection there."

The band has garnered a loyal and enthusiastic following in its short time together, often calling out for favorites like the group's sly, shadowy reworking of "My Heart Belongs to Daddy."

"I did that same tune with the Birds of a Feather band, only in the studio and then didn't play it much," Haynes says. "I decided we would start playing it, and every place we go it goes over. Even the ladies in Europe knew the title of it, and they knew the melody. I had them singing at the end of it at one point!"

There are moments of surprise and satisfaction in any Haynes performance, but especially with his current ensemble. The drummer leads the way, directing the shape and flow of a tune through his drum kit. "I'm like driving up there. I can feel it, and everyone is listening, seriously. I try to describe what I would like to hear with the instrument, not with words."

"I am what I play," he said at the close of a week-ending set at the Vanguard. Asked to expand on that thought, Haynes says, "I can't describe that. I mean, if it's true, if you're really playing the truth, it's you. There are a lot of people now who want to be drummers and they just go to school, but that's not the drummer I know too much about. If you've been doing this thing as long as I've been doing it-man, it's second nature! It's my religion, it's my life."

Gearbox

Over the years, Haynes has played a traditional set of Ludwigs and sat behind a set of see-through Vistalites. He has been known to play a simple five-piece kit as well as an expanded set-up with a selection of pitched tom-toms, an array of temple blocks, percussion gadgets and a gong. These days, the master drummer leans toward a leaner kit-though the gong is still behind him.

Yamaha Maple Nouveau drums: 5 1/2 x 14 Roy Haynes Signature copper snare drum; 7 1/2 x 10 and 8 x 12 toms; 14 x 14 and 16 x 16 floor tom; 16 x 18 bass drum

Zildjian cymbals: 14-inch A Custom hi-hats; 18-inch A Custom crash; 20-inch K crash ride; 18-inch Custom flat-top ride; 17-inch K Dark Thin crash

Sticks: Zildjian Roy Haynes Artist Series wood tip


 
Roy Haynes
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Background information

Birth name Roy Owen Haynes
Born March 13, 1925 (age 90)
Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.
Genres Jazz, bebop, hard bop
Occupation(s) Bandleader, percussionist, composer
Instruments Drums, percussion
Years active 1945–present
Labels Mainstream, Emarcy, Impulse!, Galaxy, New Jazz, Pacific Jazz, Evidence, Vogue
Associated acts Lester Young, Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Sarah Vaughan, Stan Getz, Wardell Gray

Roy Owen Haynes (born March 13, 1925)[1] is an American jazz drummer and group leader. Haynes is among the most recorded drummers in jazz, and in a career lasting more than 60 years has played in a wide range of styles ranging from swing and bebop to jazz fusion and avant-garde jazz. He has a highly expressive, personal style ("Snap Crackle" was a nickname given him in the 1950s) and is known to foster a deep engagement in his bandmates.[citation needed]

He has also led his own groups, some performing under the name Hip Ensemble.[1] His most recent recordings as a leader are Fountain of Youth[2] and Whereas,[3] both of which have been nominated for a Grammy Award. He continues to perform worldwide.

His son Graham Haynes is a cornetist; his son Craig Haynes and grandson Marcus Gilmore are both drummers.

Contents

1 Early career
2 Later career
3 Technique
4 Endorsements
5 Awards and honors
6 Discography
6.1 As leader/co-leader
6.2 As sideman
7 References
8 External links

Early career
This section does not cite any references or sources. Please help improve this section by adding citations to reliable sources. Unsourced material may be challenged and removed. (February 2014)

Born in the Roxbury section of Boston, Massachusetts, Haynes made his professional debut in 1944 at the age of seventeen in his native Boston.

Haynes began his full-time professional career in 1945. From 1947 to 1949 he worked with saxophonist Lester Young, and from 1949 to 1952 was a member of saxophonist Charlie Parker's quintet. He also recorded at the time with pianist Bud Powell and saxophonists Wardell Gray, and Stan Getz. From 1953 to 1958 he toured with singer Sarah Vaughan and also recorded with her.
Later career

Hayne's influence on the rock world has also been apparent in recent years, with a tribute song recorded by Jim Keltner and Charlie Watts of The Rolling Stones,[4] and recent on-stage appearances with The Allman Brothers Band[5] and Page McConnell of Phish.[6]

A 3 CD/1 DVD boxed set entitled A Life in Time - The Roy Haynes Story[7] was released by Dreyfus Jazz[8] in October 2007. The set chronicles highlights from Haynes career from 1949–2006, including recordings with Parker, Vaughan, Davis, Monk, Corea, Metheny and his own Hip Ensemble and Fountain of Youth quartet. The set was listed by The New Yorker Magazine as one of the Best Boxed Sets of 2007,[9] and was nominated for an award by the Jazz Journalist's Association.

WKCR-FM, New York,[10] surveyed Haynes's career in 301 hours of programming January 11–23, 2009.[11]
 

Technique
Haynes extracted the rhythmic qualities from melodies and created unique new drum and cymbal patterns in an idiosyncratic, now instantly recognizable style. Rather than using cymbals strictly for effect, Haynes brought them to the forefront of his unique rhythmic approach. He also established a distinctively crisp and rapid-fire sound on the snare; this was the inspiration for his nickname, ‘Snap Crackle’.

Endorsements

Haynes endorses Yamaha drums, pedals & hardware, Zildjian cymbals and Remo drumheads. He also uses his Zildjian Roy Haynes signature drumstick and has a Yamaha Roy Haynes signature snare drum. He previously endorsed Ludwig and Slingerland.

Awards and honors

Esquire named Roy Haynes one of the Best Dressed Men in America in 1960, along with Fred Astaire, Clark Gable and Cary Grant.

He was inducted into the Down Beat Magazine Hall of Fame in 2004. On October 9, 2010, Roy Haynes was awarded the Mid-Atlantic Arts Foundation's BNY Mellon Jazz Living Legacy Award at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, DC. On December 22, 2010, Haynes was named a recipient of a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award by the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences.[12] Haynes received the award at the Special Merit Awards Ceremony & Nominees Reception of the 53rd Annual Grammy Awards on February 12, 2011.

Discography

As leader/co-leader

1954: Busman's Holiday
1954: Roy Haynes Sextet (originally released as Roy Haynes Modern Group)
1956: Jazz Abroad (Mercury) with Quincy Jones
1958: We Three (New Jazz) with Paul Chambers and Phineas Newborn
1960: Just Us (New Jazz)
1962: Out of the Afternoon (Impulse!)
1963: Cracklin' (New Jazz) with Booker Ervin
1963: Cymbalism (New Jazz)
1964: People
1971: Hip Ensemble (Mainstream)
1972: Equipoise (Mainstream)
1973: Senyah (Mainstream)
1975: Togyu (RCA)
1976: Jazz a Confronto Vol. 29 (Horo)
1976: Sugar Roy
1977: Vistalite
1977: Thank You Thank You
1979: Live at the Riverbop (Marge Records)
1986: True or False (Freelance Records)
1992: Homecoming
1992: When It's Haynes It Roars
1994: My Shining Hour
1994: Te Vou! (with Pat Metheny)
1998: Praise
2000: The Roy Haynes Trio
2000: Roy Haynes
2001: Birds of a Feather: A Tribute to Charlie Parker (with Roy Hargrove, Dave Holland and Kenny Garrett)
2003: Love Letters
2004: Fountain of Youth
2004: Quiet Fire (reissue of Thank You Thank You and Vistalite)
2006: Whereas
2007: A Life in Time: The Roy Haynes Story (3CD-1DVD Boxed Set, 1949-2006)
2011: Roy-Alty

As sideman

1949: Meet Milt Jackson (Milt Jackson)
1951: Miles Davis and Horns (Miles Davis)
1955: In the Land of Hi-Fi (Sarah Vaughan)
1958: Thelonious in Action (Thelonious Monk)
1958: Misterioso (Thelonious Monk)
1958: Portrait of Art Farmer (Art Farmer)
1958: Brass & Trio (Sonny Rollins)
1958: In a Minor Groove (Dorothy Ashby)
1959: Live at the Five Spot (Randy Weston)
1959: A Night at the Vanguard (Kenny Burrell)
1959: The Sonny Side of Stitt (Sonny Stitt)
1960: Outward Bound (Eric Dolphy)
1960: Far Cry (Eric Dolphy)
1960: Soul Street (Jimmy Forrest)
1960: Soul Battle (Oliver Nelson, King Curtis & Jimmy Forrest)
1960: Something Nice (Etta Jones)
1960: The Tommy Flanagan Trio (Tommy Flanagan)
1960: Stittsville, Sonny Side Up (Sonny Stitt)
1960: The Great Kai & J. J. (Kai Winding & J. J. Johnson)
1960: Trane Whistle (Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis)
1961: Here's Jaki, Out Front! (Jaki Byard)
1961: Plenty of Horn (Ted Curson)
1961: Focus (Stan Getz)
1961: The Straight Horn of Steve Lacy (Steve Lacy)
1961: The Blues and the Abstract Truth (Oliver Nelson)
1962: The Song Is Paris (Jackie Paris)
1962: Stitt in Orbit (Sonny Stitt)
1962: Domino (Roland Kirk)
1962: Reaching Fourth (McCoy Tyner)
1962: Ted Curson Plays Fire Down Below (Ted Curson)
1962: Bossa Nova Plus (Willis Jackson)
1963: Black Fire (Andrew Hill)
1963: Yo Ho! Poor You, Little Me (Frank Wess)
1963: Smokestack (Andrew Hill)
1963: Newport '63 (John Coltrane)
1963: Destination... Out! (Jackie McLean)
1964: It's Time! (Jackie McLean)
1964: Blue Spoon (Jimmy Witherspoon)
1966: Tennessee Firebird (Gary Burton)
1967: Duster (Gary Burton)
1968: The Way Ahead (Archie Shepp)
1968: Now He Sings, Now He Sobs (Chick Corea)
1968: The DeJohnette Complex (Jack DeJohnette)
1969: In the World (Clifford Jordan)
1969: Country Roads & Other Places (Gary Burton)
1974: "All The Things We Are" (Dave Brubeck)
1975: Misty Thursday (Duke Jordan)
1976: Trinity (Tommy Flanagan)
1976: Live in Japan (Duke Jordan)
1978: Manhattan Project (Dizzy Reece)
1978: Birds and Ballads (Johnny Griffin)
1978: Blowin' Away (Dizzy Reece and Ted Curson)
1978: Times Square (Gary Burton)
1978: Transfiguration (Alice Coltrane)
1978: Equipoise (Stanley Cowell)
1979: The Trio (Ted Curson)
1983: Trio Music (Chick Corea)
1984: Trio Music Live in Europe (Chick Corea)
1987: Live in Montreaux (Chick Corea)
1987: Blues for Coltrane (McCoy Tyner)
1989: Question and Answer (Pat Metheny)
1994: Wanton Spirit (trio led by Kenny Barron with Charlie Haden)
1996: Flamingo (Michel Petrucciani & Stephane Grappelli)
1998: Like Minds (Gary Burton, Chick Corea, Dave Holland, Pat Metheny)
2011: Sonny Rollins- Road Shows vol.2 (Sonny Rollins)

References

Biography
Fountain of Youth[dead link]
[1][dead link]
"Charlie Watts". Rosebudus.com. Retrieved 2011-10-18.
[2]
Dreyfus Records[dead link]
A Life in Time - The Roy Haynes Story[dead link]
Dreyfus Jazz[dead link]
Best Boxed Sets of 2007 The New Yorker
"WKCR 89.9FM NY". Wkcr.org. Retrieved 2011-10-18.
"Timeoutnj.com". .timeoutny.com. Retrieved 2011-10-18.

"The Recording Academy Announces Special Merit Award Honorees". Grammy.com News. Retrieved December 22, 2010.

External links

Drummerworld: Roy Haynes
Roy Haynes home on Dreyfus Records
Interview
Concert Review
Jazz Police: Concert Review Roy Haynes Live at the Artists' Quarter
Jazz Police: CD Review Where As, 2006
Why I Love Roy Haynes and Why Jazz Education Matters from District Administration Magazine 7/04

Monday, August 26, 2013

Cedar Walton (1934-2013), Major Pianist, Bandleader, and Composer

CEDAR WALTON  
1934-2013
 
All,

Cedar Walton was a master musician and composer whose elegant, dynamic, and deeply lyrical style on piano was one of the most widely influential and deeply admired of his extraordinary generation.  Walton was also a consummate composer who wrote many compositions in his own groups and for other ensembles that quickly became Jazz standards in the hardbop/postbop idiom of the 1950s and '60s.  To say he and his beautiful, disciplined playing will be sorely missed is a vast understatement...

Kofi 


Cedar Walton, Pianist and Composer, Dies at 79

By WILLIAM YARDLEY
August 20, 2013
New York Times


Cedar Walton, a pianist who distinguished himself as both an accompanist and a soloist, and who wrote some of the most enduring compositions in modern jazz while a member of Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers in the early 1960s, died on Monday at his home in Brooklyn. He was 79.

Rachel Papo for The New York Times
Cedar Walton performing with his quartet in 2009.


His death followed a brief illness, his manager, Jean-Pierre Leduc, said.

Mr. Walton sat in with Charlie Parker, spent a year accompanying the singer Abbey Lincoln, and recorded with both John Coltrane and, much later, the saxophonist Joshua Redman. He led a series of successful small groups, including a trio and a quartet that both featured his longtime collaborator, the drummer Billy Higgins. Yet he probably remained best known for his early work with one of the most influential incarnations of the Jazz Messengers, the group that the drummer Art Blakey ran as a kind of postgraduate performance academy for rising jazz stars.

Mr. Walton joined the Jazz Messengers in 1961, on the same day as the trumpeter Freddie Hubbard. (Among the other members of the group at the time, was the tenor saxophonist Wayne Shorter.) It was here that Mr. Walton established himself as a composer; over the years he would write a number of pieces that became jazz standards, including “Mosaic,” “Bolivia,” “Mode for Joe” and “Ugetsu,” also known as “Fantasy in D.”

Mr. Walton said his time with the Jazz Messengers helped him greatly as an accompanist, a role he often said he preferred to that of leader. Asked in a 2010 interview — conducted in conjunction with his being named a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the Arts — what was most important about providing accompaniment in an ensemble that thrives on improvisation, he said, “Total listening.”

Cedar Anthony Walton Jr. was born on Jan. 17, 1934, in Dallas. His mother, Ruth, played and sang popular songs at home. He was not initially interested in reading music, but he showed an early inclination to compose.

“Are you making up songs again?” his mother would call out.

He studied music composition at the University of Denver but later switched to music education. Instead of graduating he left in 1955 for New York, where he soon joined the local jazz scene.

Mr. Walton’s survivors include his wife, Martha Sammaciccia; three children from an earlier marriage, Carl, Rodney and Cedra; and a daughter from another relationship, Naisha.

In April 1959, after serving in the Army, Mr. Walton was sought out by John Coltrane to play on a rehearsal recording for what would become one of his landmark albums “Giant Steps.” Mr. Walton played on the technically daunting title song but declined to take a solo. He soon realized that had been a mistake.

“The song was too hard for me,” he said in a 2011 interview with JazzWax, Marc Myers’s Web site. “But you just didn’t do that. I was young.”

When the album was recorded, Mr. Walton was out of town and Tommy Flanagan played piano. Years later, the sessions with Mr. Walton were released as alternate tracks. By then, he had long since established himself as a forceful and elegant soloist. His years with Mr. Blakey helped.

“He had sort of a bombastic style, but he would leave little openings for you,” Mr. Walton said in the 2010 interview. “So you developed your radar when to get in. If you didn’t get in then, you wouldn’t be heard.”
 
AUGUST 26, 2013

THE GLORIOUS CEDAR WALTON
POSTED BY RICHARD BRODY
THE NEW YORKER

CEDAR WALTON
Photograph by Jack Vartoogian/Getty
 Cedar Walton performing with his quartet in 2009.    
       
Bad news arrived last week while I was out of town—the death of the pianist and composer Cedar Walton, at the age of seventy-nine. His name has always been a watermark of quality, and of particular qualities, for any recording he’s taken part in, as leader or sideman. Walton had a blend of power and swing, modesty and complexity, hearty tradition and fervent innovation. He joined the drummer Art Blakey’s sextet in 1961 and, together with the trumpeter Freddie Hubbard and the tenor saxophonist Wayne Shorter, made it, for the next three years, one of the best ensembles in jazz. Blakey’s sheer force was joined to a true group concept—his younger band members composed works of a brooding intensity that joined modern post-bop modality (as pioneered by Miles Davis) to a bluesy, R. & B.-based feeling. The band’s music emerged with a ripping progressive edge and an exultation in sheer dark heat that sounded like the streets and distinguished it from more transcendent, conceptual, or restrained versions of modern jazz. Instead, the trio seemed more linked to the new funk of James Brown and Motown.

Walton’s first recording with Blakey was a live set, from August, 1961, that came out as part of the second volume of recordings called, drolly, “Three Blind Mice” (an arrangement of which was played with surprisingly un-jokey fervor). This clip, from 1963, gives a clear sense of the band’s exhilarating level of intricate aggression—and also includes a long interlude, from the thirty-first through thirty-eighth minutes, devoted to Walton, who plays solo and in a trio with Blakey and the bassist Reggie Workman. Walton delivers a florid ballad that snaps into an irrepressible up-tempo bounce. At minute forty-six, he thrillingly pierces Blakey’s drum fury while adding another layer of tension to it.

I have a special love for hearing piano trios (i.e., with bass and drums), and, in later years, Walton made many recordings in that format. But in Walton’s case, there’s a particular joy in hearing him play behind horn soloists, as in the obscure 1967 recording by the trumpeter Donald (Blackjack) Byrd. On this tune, “Eldorado,” Walton sticks close to the rhythm of the melody but seems to be hearing inside the heads of the soloists (especially the tenor saxophonist Hank Mobley—I wish their interplay had gone on for several more choruses). In his own solo, he used the insistent rhythm to loosely tether freewheeling inspirations until he meshes gears in a sultry, straightforward blues jaunt.



In 1986, in this concert from Japan (seen in the above clip) with the alto saxophonist Jackie McLean and the trumpeter Woody Shaw, Walton, in his superb solo, does something similar: taking off from a bluesy strut, he breaks into an overflowingly melodic mode and touches base with swing before spinning out piquantly out-of-phase chords and teeming note-torrents.

Walton was as significant a composer as he was a performer. He played on the tenor saxophonist Clifford Jordan’s quietly majestic, even modestly era-defining, 1973 recording “Glass Bead Games,” and contributed two compositions to the session—“Shoulders” and “Bridgework”—which are two of my all-time favorite jazz compositions, ones that exemplify their time and capture the essence of jazz moods while also posing an awesome challenge: to improvise on themes that are already perfect.

The very status of that great album (I’ve got the CD but fondly recall the double-LP from Strata-East, an exceptional, short-lived, artist-run record label) tells a remarkable and troubled story, of the glory and curse of “jazz” itself. Some musicians dislike that word (Ahmad Jamal distances himself from it, Nicholas Payton utterly repudiates it), but the underlying question is the range of musical styles that jazz implies. Walton’s latter-day music wouldn’t have been out of place in his performances from more than fifty years ago. The recording with Jordan—coming, as it did, at a moment when both the avant-garde and pop-tinged fusion were getting the bulk of attention (the former, from critics; the latter, from audiences)—is a summing-up of a post-bop manner that had already become traditional. This self-consciously historicist distillation, with compositions dedicated to elder greats, make a claim for that manner as newly yet definitively classical.

All art forms reach their point of crisis, regarding their own conventions and the acceptance of the public. The prospect of further progress depends on a self-conscious reassessment of the art’s history, and the open field of radical possibilities leads to a congealing of taste around earlier styles that arose in response to specific conditions that no longer exist. But the trends of an art form are one thing, the lives and experiences of artists another. Walton negotiated just such a divide with integrity and invention, which doubles his place in the music’s history.
 
 http://www.youtube.com/artist/cedar-walton

Cedar Walton
www.youtube.com/artist/cedar-walton 

One of the most valued of all hard bop accompanists, Cedar Walton is a versatile pianist whose funky touch and cogent melodic sense have graced the ...

Cedar Walton Quartet - Naima pt 1

http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&source=hp&q=Cedar+Walton+on+youtube&gbv=2&oq=Cedar+Walton+on+youtube&gs_l=heirloom-hp.12...699.5962.0.7603.23.7.0.7.0.0.533.1295.0j2j2j5-1.5.0....0...1ac.1.24.heirloom-hp..19.4.1144.PTFtmAJsAqk

► 7:10
www.youtube.com/watch?v=uU1s3IjhM3w
Nov 11, 2006 -
 
Also from a performance in 1976 at the Umbria Jazz Festival, John Coltrane's composition ...
Cedar Walton's "Bolivia"

► 12:41
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FieH5e-dO4o
Apr 27, 2012
 
1984 Milt Jackson, Ray Brown, Cedar Walton -5+6: Midnight Waltz / The Very Thought Of You
Cedar Walton

► 5:42
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZzkhCe2npM
Nov 4, 2008 -
Cedar Walton Trio - TVJazz.tv - YouTube

► 3:25
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rm4poXPHv60
Jul 18, 2012
 
Cedar Walton Trio Série Jazz dans la nuit series. Festival International de Jazz de Montréal 2012
Cedar Walton plays "Blue Monk"


► 2:54
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y_UCN-ggMYw
Nov 11, 2006
 
From a performance in 1976 at the Umbria Jazz Festival,
Bobby Hutcherson & Cedar Walton Quartet

► 66:21
www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyLLT17fbwA
Nov 1, 2012 -
Bobby Hutcherson Cedar Walton David Williams Eddie Marshall San Javier Jazz Festival 2010.
 
Cedar Walton Trio with Billy Higgins & David Williams -

► 14:46
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qf6EETQl3tQ
Sep 29, 2012 
 
► 7:09
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tknpudwxRQ
Mar 1, 2013
 
One of the most celebrated Cedar Walton's compositions that is a real new jazz standard by Cedar Walton -"Bolivia" -
► 10:11
www.youtube.com/watch?v=WvDsDF_Zid4
Nov 25, 2012
Cedar Walton Trio
 
 
 
Cedar Walton
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia


Background information:
 
Birth name    Cedar Anthony Walton, Jr.
Born    January 17, 1934
Dallas, Texas, United States
Died    August 19, 2013 (aged 79)
Brooklyn, New York, United States
Genres    Jazz
Occupations    Musician
Instruments    Piano

Cedar Anthony Walton, Junior (January 17, 1934 – August 19, 2013) was an American hard bop jazz pianist. He came to prominence as a member of drummer Art Blakey's band before establishing a long career as a bandleader and composer.

Contents  

1 Biography
2 Discography
2.1 As leader
2.2 As sideman
3 References
4 External links

Biography

Walton grew up in Dallas, Texas. His mother was an aspiring concert pianist, and was Walton's initial teacher. She also took him to jazz performances around Dallas. Walton cited Nat King Cole, Bud Powell, Thelonious Monk and Art Tatum as his major influences on piano.[1] He began emulating recordings of these artists from an early age. He attended the University of Denver as a composition major originally, but was encouraged to switch to a music education program targeted to set up a career in the local public school system. This switch later proved extremely useful since Walton learned to play and arrange for various instruments, a talent he would hone with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers.
Walton was tempted by the promise of New York City through his associations with John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, and Richie Powell, whom he met at various after-hours sessions around the city of Denver, Colorado. In 1955, he decided to leave school and drove with a friend to New York City. He quickly got recognition from Johnny Garry, who ran Birdland at that time.

Walton was drafted into the U.S. Army, and stationed in Germany, cutting short his rising status in the after-hours scene. While in the Army, he played with musicians Leo Wright, Don Ellis, and Eddie Harris. Upon his discharge after two years, Walton picked up where he left off, playing as a sideman with Kenny Dorham and J. J. Johnson, and with Gigi Gryce.[2] Joining the Jazztet, led by Benny Golson and Art Farmer, Walton played with this group from 1958 to 1961. In April 1959, he recorded an alternate take of "Giant Steps" with John Coltrane, though he did not solo.

In the early 1960s, Walton joined Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers as a pianist-arranger for three years (on the same day as Freddie Hubbard), where he played with Wayne Shorter and Hubbard. In this group, he demonstrated a keen sense of arranging in originals such as "Ugetsu" and "Mosaic". He left the Messengers in 1964 and by the late 1960s was part of the house rhythm section at Prestige Records, where in addition to releasing his own recordings, he recorded with Sonny Criss, Pat Martino, Eric Kloss, and Charles McPherson. For a year, he served as Abbey Lincoln's accompanist, and recorded with Lee Morgan from 1966 to 1968. During the mid-1970s, he led the funk group Mobius.[2]

Many of his compositions have been adopted as jazz standards, including "Firm Roots", "Bolivia" and "Cedar's Blues". "Bolivia" is perhaps Walton's best known composition, while one of his oldest is "Fantasy in D", recorded under the title "Ugetsu" by Art Blakey in 1963.[3]
 
In January 2010, he was inducted as a member of the National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Masters.[4]
After a brief illness, Walton died on August 19, 2013, at his home in Brooklyn, New York at the age of 79.[5]
Discography[edit source]

As leader

1967: Cedar! (Prestige)
1968: Spectrum (Prestige)
1969: The Electric Boogaloo Song (Prestige)
1969: Soul Cycle (Prestige)
1972: Breakthrough! with Hank Mobley (Cobblestone)
1973: A Night At Boomers, Vol. 1 (Muse)
1973: A Night At Boomers, Vol. 2 (Muse)
1974: Firm Roots (Muse)
1974: Pit Inn (East Wind)
1975: Mobius (RCA)
1976: The Pentagon (East Wind)
1977: First Set (SteepleChase)
1977: Second Set (SteepleChase)
1977: Third Set (SteepleChase)
1978: Animation (Columbia)
1980: Soundscapes (Columbia)
1980: The Maestro (Muse)
1981: Piano Solos (Clean Cuts)
1982: Among Friends (Theresa Records)
1985: The Trio, Vol. 1 (Red)
1985: The Trio, Vol. 2 (Red)
1985: The Trio, Vol. 3 (Red)
1985: Cedar's Blues (Red)
1985: Bluesville Time (Criss Cross)
1986: Up Front (Timeless)
1986: Cedar Walton Plays (Delos)
1987: This Is For You, John (Timeless)
1992: Live at Maybeck (Concord Jazz)
1992: Manhattan Afternoon (Criss Cross)
1996: Composer (Astor Place)
1999: Roots (Astor Place)
2001: The Promise Land (Highnote Records)
2002: Latin Tinge (Highnote)
2005: Naima (Savoy Jazz)
2005: Midnight Waltz (Venus Records)
2005: Underground Memoirs (Highnote)
2006: One Flight Down (Highnote)
2008: Seasoned Wood (Highnote)
2009: Voices Deep Within (Highnote)
2010: Cedar Chest (Highnote)
2011: The Bouncer (Highnote)
With Eastern Rebellion
1975: Eastern Rebellion, Vol. 1 (Timeless Muse)
1977: Eastern Rebellion, Vol. 2 (Timeless Muse)
1990: Mosaic (Musicmasters)
1992: Simple Pleasure (Musicmasters)
1994: Just One of Those... Nights At The Village Vanguard (Musicmasters)
With Timeless All Stars
1982: It's Timelss (Timeless)
1983: Timeless Heart (Timeless)
1986: Essence (Delos)
1991: Time For The Timeless All Stars (Early Bird Records)
As sideman[edit source]
With Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt
God Bless Jug and Sonny (Prestige, 1973 [2001])
Left Bank Encores (Prestige, 1973 [2001])
With Art Blakey
Mosaic (Blue Note, 1961)
Three Blind Mice (Blue Note, 1962)
Free For All (Blue Note, 1964)
Kyoto (Riverside, 1964)
Indestructible (Blue Note, 1964)
Golden Boy (Colpix, 1964)
Buhaina (Prestige, 1973)
Anthenagin (Prestige, 1973)
With Donald Byrd
Slow Drag (Blue Note, 1967)
With Ornette Coleman
Broken Shadows (Columbia, 1972 [1982])
With John Coltrane
Giant Steps (Atlantic, 1959)
With Sonny Criss
Up, Up and Away (Prestige, 1967)
The Beat Goes On! (Prestige, 1968)
With Kenny Dorham and Cannonball Adderley
Blue Spring (Riverside, 1959)
With Teddy Edwards
It's All Right! (Prestige, 1967)
With Art Farmer and Benny Golson
Big City Sounds (Argo, 1960)
The Jazztet and John Lewis (Argo, 1961)
The Jazztet at Birdhouse (Argo, 1961)
With Curtis Fuller
Soul Trombone (Impulse!, 1961)
Smokin' (Mainstream, 1972)
With Benny Golson
Take a Number from 1 to 10 (Argo, 1961)
With Dexter Gordon
Tangerine (Prestige, 1972 [1975])
Generation (Prestige, 1972)
With Steve Grossman
Love is the Thing (Red Record, 1985)
With Eddie Harris
Cool Sax from Hollywood to Broadway (Columbia, 1964)
The In Sound (Atlantic, 1965)
Mean Greens (Atlantic, 1966)
The Tender Storm (Atlantic, 1966)
Excursions (Atlantic, 1966-73)
How Can You Live Like That? (Atlantic, 1976)
With Jimmy Heath
The Quota (Riverside, 1961)
Triple Threat (Riverside, 1962)
With Joe Henderson
Mode for Joe (Blue Note, 1966)
With Freddie Hubbard
Here To Stay (Blue Note, 1962, [1979])
With Bobby Hutcherson
Highway One (Columbia, 1978)
With Milt Jackson
Milt Jackson at the Museum of Modern Art (Limelight, 1965)
Born Free (Limelight, 1966)
Milt Jackson and the Hip String Quartet (Verve, 1968)
Goodbye (CTI, 1973)
Olinga (CTI, 1974)
With J. J. Johnson
J.J. Inc. (Columbia, 1961)
With Sam Jones
Seven Minds (East Wind Records, 1974)
With Clifford Jordan
Spellbound (Riverside, 1960)
Starting Time (Jazzland, 1961)
Bearcat (Jazzland, 1962)
With Eric Kloss
First Class Kloss! (Prestige, 1967)
With Abbey Lincoln
Abbey Is Blue (Riverside, 1959)
With Pat Martino
Strings! (Prestige, 1967)
With Christian McBride
New York Time (Chesky, 2006)
With Charles McPherson
From This Moment On! (Prestige, 1968)
Horizons (Prestige, 1968)
With Lee Morgan
The Sixth Sense (Blue Note, 1968)
With Blue Mitchell
The Cup Bearers (Riverside, 1962)
Boss Horn (1966)
Summer Soft (Impulse!, 1977)
With Houston Person
Chocomotive (Prestige, 1967)
Trust in Me (Prestige, 1967)
Blue Odyssey (Prestige, 1968)
Broken Windows, Empty Hallways (Prestige, 1972)
With Sonny Red
The Mode (Jazzland, 1961)
Sonny Red (Mainstream, 1971)
With Stanley Turrentine
Another Story (Blue Note, 1969)
With Woody Shaw
Setting Standards (Muse, 1983)
References[edit source]

^ Deardra Shuler, "Cedar Walton and Barry Harris to play Jazz at Lincoln Center", New York Amsterdam News, June 20, 2013.
^ a b Cedar Walton page at Last.fm.
^ Bailey, Phil (1985), Volume 35 - Cedar Walton, Jamey Aebersold, 1985.
^ Lifetime Honors, National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Masters.
^ Mark Memmott, "Jazz Pianist Cedar Walton Dies", NPR, August 19, 2013.
External links[edit source]

Cedar Walton at the Internet Movie Database
Interview with Cedar Walton, Do The Math, March 2010.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Wayne Shorter: The Living Legacy of a Great Musician, Composer, and Philosopher

Robert Yager for The New York Times
Wayne Shorter, the saxophonist and composer, is nearly 80 and remains driven and influential.

"I knew Wayne Shorter first in Newark where we were both, malevolently, born.  He was one of the two "weird" Shorter brothers that people mentioned occasionally, usually as a metaphorical reference, "...as weird as Wayne."
--Leroi Jones,  "Introducing Wayne Shorter", Jazz Review,  1959

“We have to beware the trapdoors of the self. You think you’re the only one that has a mission, and your mission is so unique, and you expound this missionary process over and over again with something you call a vocabulary, which in itself becomes old and decrepit.” 
--Wayne Shorter,  2013

All,

A Great Artist.  A Great Musician.  A Great Composer.  A Great Human Being  (And a Bad Muthafucka).  My eternal goal remains to be fortunate enough to become "as weird as Wayne"...

Kofi


Major Jazz Eminence, Little Grise
Wayne Shorter’s New Album Is ‘Without a Net’
 
By NATE CHINEN
January 31, 2013 
New York Times

THE STANDARD LINE on Wayne Shorter is that he’s the greatest living composer in jazz, and one of its greatest saxophonists. He would like you to forget all of that. Not the music, or his relationship to it, but rather the whole notion of pre-eminence, with its granite countenance and fixed coordinates. “We have to beware the trapdoors of the self,” he said recently.

Alejandro Bolivar/European Pressphoto Agency
Wayne Shorter at a festival in January.

Erin Baiano for The New York Times
The Wayne Shorter Quartet, with Danilo Pérez on piano, Mr. Shorter on saxophone, John Patitucci on bass and Brian Blade on drums, performing at Lincoln Center.

“You think you’re the only one that has a mission,” he went on, “and your mission is so unique, and you expound this missionary process over and over again with something you call a vocabulary, which in itself becomes old and decrepit.” He laughed sharply.

Mr. Shorter will turn 80 this year. Decrepitude hasn’t had a chance to catch up to him. Last week he appeared at Carnegie Hall as a featured guest with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, which played several of his compositions. On Tuesday “Without a Net,” easily the year’s most anticipated jazz album, will become his first release on Blue Note in more than four decades. And next Saturday he’ll be at the Walt Disney Concert Hall with the Los Angeles Philharmonic for the premiere of “Gaia,” which he wrote as a showcase for the bassist and singer Esperanza Spalding.

He hasn’t accrued this late-inning momentum alone. The vehicle for most of Mr. Shorter’s recent activity, including the orchestral work, is his superlative quartet with Danilo Pérez on piano, John Patitucci on bass and Brian Blade on drums. A band of spellbinding intuition, with an absolute commitment to the spirit of discovery, it has had an incalculable influence on the practice of jazz in the 21st century — and not necessarily for the same reasons that established Mr. Shorter’s legend in the 20th.

Since the emergence of the quartet, which released its first album on Verve in 2002, jazz’s aesthetic center has moved perceptibly: away from the hotshot soloist and toward a more collectivist, band-driven ideal. There has also been an unusual amount of dialogue between jazz’s tradition-minded base camp and its expeditionary outposts, where conventions exist to be challenged.

Mr. Shorter’s working band is far from the only one to embody these principles during the past decade, but it has been the most acclaimed and widely heard. Traces of its style can be detected in other groups, including those led by the saxophonist Chris Potter and the trumpeter Ambrose Akinmusire. Its slippery methodology has also taken root in the conservatory, and not just at the Berklee College of Music, where Mr. Pérez is on the faculty, or at the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz, where Mr. Shorter is a resident guru.

“The students are very familiar with that quartet,” said Doug Weiss, who teaches a popular Wayne Shorter ensemble class at the New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music. “They come in having heard the way that band plays together, and a lot of them have no idea what’s going on, and that’s why they’re there.”

So in addition to Mr. Shorter’s body of work — his terse and insinuative compositions, which have been closely studied by jazz musicians for decades — this newer generation has also had the opportunity to grapple with his elusive philosophy of play.

Once, in an interview, Mr. Shorter was asked to account for his pursuit of music above other art forms. He replied that music has an inherent sense of velocity and mystery. It would be hard to find a more concise distillation of his priorities as a bandleader.

“When we go out onstage we always start from nothing,” said Mr. Patitucci by phone from Mr. Pérez’s native Panama, where the quartet headlined a jazz festival last month. “So anybody can spin the wheels in a certain direction, and then we develop those themes.”

What follows isn’t free jazz, exactly, though it uses some of the same tools. “It’s spontaneous composition,” Mr. Patitucci said, “with counterpoint and harmony and lyricism. All of those values are still there. It’s just being pressurized into milliseconds.”

Mr. Shorter framed the idea as an image: “We don’t count how much water there is in a wave when we see the ocean.” He was on the couch of a hotel suite overlooking Central Park South, during one of his recent visits from Los Angeles, where he lives. That evening he would perform at a gala for the David Lynch Foundation, along with the pianist Herbie Hancock, his former partner in the Miles Davis Quintet. He wore dress loafers and a fleece pullover embroidered with the logo of Soka Gakkai International, the Nichiren Buddhist organization to which he and Mr. Hancock belong.

A scheduled interview began with an unscheduled interruption: Ms. Spalding — who won the Grammy for best new artist in 2011, and was also booked at the gala — dropped by with the Argentine pianist Leo Genovese. For all of her success Ms. Spalding still belongs to the demographic that grew up with the notion of Wayne as sage: she and Mr. Genovese were there simply to give him a hug.

Mr. Shorter is a notoriously elliptical conversationalist, prone to cosmic digression and quick-fire allusion. During a spirited two-hour interview he touched on modern art, social politics and science fiction — among the books he produced for inspection was the dystopian “Ready Player One” by Ernest Cline — as well as music and movies, and movie music. “I’m looking at a lot of old silent films now,” he said, “and I listen to the new, hip boy bands. I was checking out some Selena Gomez.” On the subject of jazz, he said pithily, “The word ‘jazz’ to me only means ‘I dare you.’ ”

But he also painted his own jazz narrative in precise strokes, whether it was hearing Charlie Parker at Birdland at the age of 18 — what stuck with him was a quotation of “Petrushka,” the Stravinsky ballet, that Parker sneaked into one solo — or sensing the mortal urgency that burned in John Coltrane, his fellow saxophonist, and in some ways a mentor. And Mr. Shorter made several references to the cryptic wisdom of Miles Davis, slipping each time into an unusually convincing imitation of that trumpeter’s throaty rasp.

Davis’s celebrated quintet of the mid-’60s was one of the most aerodynamically advanced in the history of jazz, and apart from Davis himself Mr. Shorter was its chief in-house designer. One of his signature contributions was “Nefertiti,” a slithery 16-bar tune ambiguously shaded with altered and half-diminished chords.

On record, as the title track to a 1968 album, the song features Davis and Mr. Shorter tracing and retracing its melody while the rhythm section improvises in the background, with all the supple intrigue of a shadow creeping across the landscape. It’s a useful precedent for Mr. Shorter’s current band, which derives much of its dynamism from rhythm-section cohesion within the loosest possible framework.

Another precedent, less obvious, is the transitional band that Davis led before his swerve into jazz-funk, a quintet with Mr. Shorter, the pianist Chick Corea, the bassist Dave Holland and the drummer Jack DeJohnette. A boxed set released last week on Columbia/Legacy, “Live in Europe 1969: The Bootleg Series Vol. 2,” illuminates just how much liberty that group took with its materials, even to the point of feverish abstraction. It never sounds freer than on a concert in Stockholm, attacking three of Mr. Shorter’s compositions: “Paraphernalia,” “Nefertiti” and “Masqualero.”

Two of those have surfaced on Mr. Shorter’s recent albums with the quartet, along with other pieces from a broad swath of his career. “Without a Net,” a compilation of live recordings from 2011, opens with “Orbits,” a theme from the Davis quintet era. It also includes a majestic take on “Plaza Real,” from the songbook of Weather Report, the epochal ’70s fusion band that Mr. Shorter led with Joe Zawinul.

But the provenance of the music takes a back seat to its process, which Mr. Shorter said was meant to herald an ideal of self-actualized communal leadership. “This kind of stuff I’m talking about is a challenge to play onstage,” he allowed, and chuckled. “When Miles would hear someone talking about something philosophical, he would say” — here came the rasp — “ ‘Well, why don’t you go out there and play that?’ One thing we talk about is that to ‘play that’ we have to maybe play music that doesn’t sound like music.”

If that sounds like a Zen riddle, comfort yourself with the knowledge that even Mr. Shorter’s band mates have had to warm to the uncertainty. “It was scary, to be honest,” Mr. Pérez said of his early experience in the quartet. “It was a shock to put myself into a situation where I had no idea what was happening. Even when I listened back, I felt like an outsider: ‘What is that? What key are we in?’ ” He gradually made adjustments, including one to his practice regimen: for two or three hours at a stretch he would watch Tom and Jerry cartoons with the sound muted, making up a score.

The band hasn’t relaxed its pursuit of revelation, which expresses itself in myriad ways: Mr. Pérez’s on-the-fly cadenzas, the unexpected thunderclap of Mr. Blade’s crash cymbal, the dartlike insistence of Mr. Shorter’s improvisational flights. All this remains true even as Mr. Shorter steps up his output as a composer. “He’ll bring in this 10-page piece of music, and it’s gorgeous,” Mr. Patitucci said. “And he’ll say, ‘Just this 16 bars.’ He’s not even attached to what he wrote.”

The center of gravity on “Without a Net” is “Pegasus,” designed to feature Imani Winds, a classical wind ensemble. Through much of that track’s 23 minutes, the woodwinds deftly frame the dramatic fluctuations of Mr. Shorter’s band; at times the two factions achieve a compelling synthesis, advancing a dramatic theme.

It’s horizon-scanning music, but it also features glimpses of the past, like the fanfare from “Witch Hunt,” which led off Mr. Shorter’s landmark 1965 Blue Note album “Speak No Evil.” During his solo in “Pegasus” Mr. Shorter also nods to the old Sonny Rollins tune “Oleo.” Elsewhere on the new album he drops a quotation of the Afro-Cuban bebop standard “Manteca,” and leads the band through a cubist recasting of “Flying Down to Rio,” a movie theme originally sung by Fred Astaire.

“To me there’s no such thing as beginning or end,” Mr. Shorter said. “I always say don’t discard the past completely because you have to bring with you the most valuable elements of experience, to be sort of like a flashlight. A flashlight into the unknown.”

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Roy DeCarava, Legendary Photographer and Iconic Artist: 1919-2009



"Sun and Shade" (1952) by Roy DeCarava


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"Man Coming Up Subway Stairs"  (1952) by Roy DeCarava

"John Coltrane on Soprano" (1963) by Roy DeCarava

 "Dancers" (1956) by Roy DeCarava

Roy DeCarava in 1996 by Sherry DeCarava

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/29/arts/29decarava.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all

All,

Roy DeCarava is a legend and a GIANT in the field of 20th century photography and one of the finest, most revered, and influential artists in the United States since 1945. His astonishing photographs are thankfully on public display in many of the world's greatest museums including MOMA. But even more importantly DeCarava's extraordinary work has been and continues to be a beacon for visual artists on a global level and especially for artists of color in the United States. I personally had the distinct and lasting pleasure of viewing Mr. DeCarava's stunning photographs and hearing him talk about his work on a number of occasions in many spaces throughout the country. In 1998 my wife and I attended a ravishing international retrospective of DeCarava's photography at San Francisco MOMA where Mr. DeCarava regaled the SRO crowd in the museum auditorium with fascinating anecdotes and stirring recollections not only of his revolutionary and pioneering work photographing many anonymous and "ordinary" people in New York's incredibly diverse urban context but many indelible encounters with such iconic artists as John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, Langston Hughes, Dinah Washington, Mahalia Jackson, Erroll Garner, Coleman Hawkins, Count Basie, Sarah Vaughan, Lena Horne, Dizzy Gilespie, Horace Silver and many, many others--all of whom he immortalized in ethereally powerful photographs that have defined the very essence of the fine art of portraiture and location photography. His kinetic, meditative, and haunting style has been widely imitated but absolutely never duplicated in a prolific career that lasted over six decades. I cherish the autographs he gave me and my wife--especially of the famous large photograph of the late, great John Coltrane that adorns our living room wall to this day. Three generations of African American, Latino, Asian, and white photographers and painters have been captivated and inspired by his work and have gone on to continue his wonderful and thriving legacy of creating incredible images of everyday life and experience. His riveting and classic books of photography like The Sound I Saw: Improvisations On a Jazz Theme (Phadon, 2001), The Sweet Flypaper of Life--with text by Langston Hughes)-- (Hill & Wang, 1955; reprinted by Howard University Press, 1984), and Roy DeCarava: A Retrospective (Museum of Modern Art, 1996) stand as some of the greatest photographic art that has ever been produced in the United States.

Kofi


Roy DeCarava, Harlem Insider Who Photographed Ordinary Life, Dies at 89 
By RANDY KENNEDY 
October 28, 2009
New York Times

 
Roy DeCarava, the child of a single mother in Harlem who turned that neighborhood into his canvas, becoming one of the most important photographers of his generation by chronicling the lives of its ordinary people and its jazz giants, died on Tuesday in Manhattan. He was 89 and lived in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn.

http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/10/28/parting-2/?hp

 
His death was announced by Sherry Turner DeCarava, his wife and an art historian who has written about his work.

Mr. DeCarava trained to be a painter, but while using a camera to gather images for his printmaking work he began to gravitate toward photography, partly because of its immediacy but also because of the limitations he saw all around him for a black artist in a segregated nation. “A black painter, to be an artist,” he once said, “had to join the white world or not function — had to accept the values of white culture.”

Over a career of almost 60 years, Mr. DeCarava — who fiercely guarded the manner in which his work was exhibited and whose visibility in the art world remained low for decades — came to be regarded as the founder of a school of African-American photography that broke with the social documentary traditions of his time. While an outspoken crusader for civil rights, he felt that his pictures would speak louder as a record of black life in America if they abandoned the overtly humanist aims of mentors like Edward Steichen.

“I do not want a documentary or sociological statement,” he wrote in his application for a Guggenheim Fellowship, which he won in 1952, becoming the first black photographer to do so. His goal, he explained, was “a creative expression, the kind of penetrating insight and understanding of Negroes which I believe only a Negro photographer can interpret.”

His books, like “The Sweet Flypaper of Life,” a best-selling 1955 collaboration with Langston Hughes, and his most famous photographs — a girl in a pristine graduation dress heading down a desolate, shadowed street; a man ascending wearily from the subway; a stage portrait of John Coltrane playing with closed-eyed fury — were hugely influential, paving the way for younger photographers like Beuford Smith and Carrie Mae Weems.

“One of the things that got to me,” Mr. DeCarava told The New York Times in 1982, “was that I felt that black people were not being portrayed in a serious and in an artistic way.”

Peter Galassi, the chief curator of photography at the Museum of Modern Art, who organized a retrospective of Mr. DeCarava’s work there in 1996, said of him on Wednesday: “He was looking at everyday life in Harlem from the inside, not as a sociological or political vehicle. No photographer black or white before him had really shown ordinary domestic life so perceptively and tenderly, so persuasively.”

Roy Rudolph DeCarava was born in New York on Dec. 9, 1919. He was the only child of Elfreda Ferguson, a Jamaican immigrant, who separated from Mr. DeCarava’s father not long after his birth. As a child he shined shoes and delivered newspapers and ice to make ends meet, while his mother, an amateur photographer, made sure that his artistic talents were nurtured with music lessons and drawing supplies.
  He was one of only two black students at a high school for textile studies in the Chelsea section and one of only a few at the Cooper Union School of Art, to which he had won a scholarship to study art and architecture. After two years there, discouraged by the hostile attitude of many white students toward him, he left and enrolled at the Harlem Community Art Center on 125th Street, where he pursued painting while also using his brushes to make signs for the Works Progress Administration. After a stint in the Army during World War II, he returned to New York and left painting behind for printmaking, which he juggled with a job in commercial illustration.

But soon his field work with a camera, meant to feed his printmaking, became his primary interest, and he joined the great postwar street photography world, where practitioners like Helen Levitt, William Klein and Lisette Model were at work with their 35-millimeter rangefinders.

Mr. DeCarava (pronounced dee-cuh-RAV-ah) told Charlie Rose in a televised interview in 1996 that photography was an ideal way to get at the directness he desired from art. “Going outside and meeting the challenge of taking what is and making it yours, that’s what photography does for me,” he said. “It’s not the subject that interests me as much as my perception of the subject.”

Avoiding flash whenever he could, his pictures explored the nuances of shadow perhaps more than any other photographer of his day. The critic Vicki Goldberg, writing in The New York Times, described his best work as “bafflingly dark, suffused with stillness,” adding: “DeCarava reads the city’s small secrets as it goes about its business unawares, and comes in so close that everything outside his concentration falls away.”

The $3,200 he received from his Guggenheim Fellowship allowed him to shoot in Harlem full time. Steichen used some of Mr. DeCarava’s work in the landmark “Family of Man” exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in 1955. At the same time — after he had approached Hughes for help in finding a publisher — he published “Sweet Flypaper of Life,” which uses his work with Hughes’s prose poetry to weave a fictional narrative of Harlem life as told by a grandmother named Sister Mary Bradley.


Around the same time, he embarked on a years-long project of photographing jazz musicians like Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Count Basie and Thelonious Monk at work and at rest. He was drawn to his subjects, he once said, not only because of his love of the music, but also because of the affinities he saw between jazz and photography, both of which depend on the understanding that “in between that one-fifteenth of a second, there is a thickness.”

Like many photographers who came of age in the 1940s and ’50s, he fought to win full recognition of photography by museums and galleries. For two years in the mid-’50s, he turned an apartment where he lived on the Upper West Side into a photo gallery, featuring exhibitions of work by artists like Harry Callahan and Minor White.
 
“From the broader art community recognition did come, albeit slowly, and sometimes at great cost,” wrote his wife, Sherry Turner DeCarava, whose three daughters with him, Susan, Wendy and Laura DeCarava, all of Brooklyn, also survive him. “His insistence that people recognize and treat photography properly, as a fine art, was ahead of many in his generation.”

But Mr. DeCarava struggled against barriers much more difficult to overcome. He was active in the Committee to End Discrimination Against Black Photographers and helped lead efforts like a protest against Life magazine, demanding that it address the lack of black photographers on its staff. But not everyone agreed with his approach. Gordon Parks, Life’s only black photographer in the 1960s, declined to endorse the protest and Mr. DeCarava never forgave him.

His first major solo museum exhibition did not come until 1969, at the Studio Museum in Harlem. In 2006, he was awarded the National Medal of Arts for work that, as his citation said, “seized the attention of our nation while displaying the dignity and determination of his subjects.”

To support himself and his family, Mr. DeCarava worked for many years as a freelance magazine photographer for publications like Fortune and Newsweek.

In 1975, he became an associate professor at Hunter College and later a professor of art there, one not afraid to take things into his own hands. Over one Christmas vacation, as his wife recalled, he designed and built the first full-fledged undergraduate darkroom for the college’s art department. But he described his most significant contribution as trying to impart to his students a sense of photography’s unique power.
“It doesn’t have to be pretty to be true,” Mr. DeCarava said in a 2001 interview with the contemporary artist Dread Scott. “But if it’s true it’s beautiful. Truth is beautiful. And so my whole work is about what amounts to a reverence for life itself.”

http://www.npr.org/templates/transcript/transcript.php?storyId=114287231

INTERVIEW WITH ROY DeCARAVA FROM 1996 ON NPR


Copyright © 2009 National Public Radio®.Heard on Fresh Air from WHYYOctober 30, 2009 - (Soundbite of music) 

DAVID BIANCULLI, host:  This is FRESH AIR. I'm David Bianculli, sitting in for Terry Gross.

Roy DeCarava, the man who became a famous photographer by taking pictures of every day life in Harlem, died Tuesday in Manhattan. He was 89 years old. DeCarava was born in 1919, and grew up in Harlem at a time when it was the center artistic and literary life. His photographs, covering more than half a century of Harlem, have been exhibited by many museums and collected in several books.Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong and John Coltrane are some of the musicians he photographed - at work and at play. In 1952, Roy DeCarava became the first African-American photographer to win a Guggenheim Fellowship. It enabled him to spend a full year taking pictures of daily life in Harlem.Terry spoke with him in 1996. One of his Harlem photos from 1952 is called "Man Coming Up Subway Stairs." The man looks like he's returning from a long hard day of work. He's wearing a rumpled shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top button opened. He's carrying his jacket. He's biting his lower lip as he walks up the stairs. Terry asked Roy DeCarava what led to that picture.

Mr. ROY DECARAVA (Photographer): I used to work - I was working nine to five and I used to - with like everybody else, I woke up in the morning and went to work and came home and I was tired. And I was very much aware of my fellow riders and their appearances and their feelings, and I thought in a sense that this was a remarkable experience, in the sense that these were the people who went to work every day, worked hard, and their lives were rather circumscribed. And in many ways, they were borderline in a sense in how they lived. And in a way, I thought that their consistency and their perseverance was, in itself, a rather heroic thing.And so, that this - with that picture, which I sort of planned. I planned in the sense that I'd seen these kinds of images every day for years and there was no doubt that I would, when I decided to take a picture, that I would find one that would come along. And so what I did, I established the hours from four to six, so I had to find a place. So I opted for the entrance or the exit of a subway.But it had to be a - one of those subway stations that have disappeared. But they had a kiosk, which is this overhead covering and the walls were made of glass - wide glass. And I managed to find one - believe it or not - with a hole in it so that I could stand on the side and wait for this gentleman, or person, or woman to come up the stairs. And he eventually did, and he was perfect.GROSS: What made him perfect? 

Mr.DECARAVA: Well, he had all the things that one associates with being tired.(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. DECARAVA: And yet, constant. I mean he was determined. I mean, either he was determined to get home or maybe he was just determined to get up at the top of the stairs, because he was very tired. And to prove it, when he got to the landing, he rested, which gave me a chance to put another roll of film into the camera; because at that time, I only had one exposure left and I was debating whether I should wait until he got there or put in another roll.So when he stopped to rest on the landing, I was able to put another roll of film in, and so when he got there, I had plenty of film to in case I need to take more than one. But fortunately, I only needed that one anyway.GROSS: Now, did you ever find out who this man was and did he ever find out that you took a now celebrated photograph of him?
  
Mr. DECARAVA: No, I don't think so. People generally - I don't know. I really -I have no idea. This was taken a long time ago and I've never had anybody say anything to me about it, so I imagine not. 

GROSS: I'd like to ask you about the photograph that on the cover of your Museum of Modern Art catalog. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Mm-hmm. 
GROSS: And it's a picture of a woman walking down the steps taken, I believe, in the early 1950s.

Mr. DECARAVA: Mm-hmm.GROSS: And the photograph ends at about her, just right above her waist. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Mm-hmm. 

GROSS: So basically you see her coat, you know, the bottom half of her coat. You see one arm; you see two legs sticking out from under this long coat.(Soundbite of laughter) 

GROSS: We have no idea who she is or anything about her. But in a way, it reminds me of the kind of image I see a lot. Like, if I'm looking down or if I'm looking up, but I'm not looking up far enough...(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. DECARAVA: Mm-hmm. 

GROSS: ...to see a person's whole body. Tell me why you framed it this way? Why we're just seeing the bottom half of her body?
  
Mr. DECARAVA: Well, because the body talks to you. The body says things to you. You don't have to see a face to know. You can see a body, a person's way they carry themselves. Every individual is unique in that sense and in every sense, so that there's, I guess, for want of a better phrase, it's body language. The body tells you; your feet, your legs, how you walk, how you stand, how you relax - they tell you things. And this - I thought that this was a very beautiful moment. It was a very delicate kind of image of a woman. Definitely a woman and it was beautiful. It was - I liked it. 

GROSS: One of my favorite of your series of photos of jazz musicians is a backstage photo. It's during a session break with the Ellington Orchestra... 

Mr. DECARAVA: Mm-hmm. Yeah. 

GROSS: ...taken in 1954. 
Mr. DECARAVA: Yeah. Yeah.
  
GROSS: And it's such a beautiful composition of repose and disarray.(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. DECARAVA: Right. Right. 

GROSS: Because it's backstage, you know. In the center of the photograph is a coat rack, and either side of the coat rack is a jazz musician. They're each facing in opposite directions.(Soundbite of laughter) 

GROSS: They're each facing the wall. They're sitting on folding cars, each reading something. I can't tell whether it's...

Mr. DECARAVA: Yeah.
  
GROSS: ...you know, sheet music or the newspaper. And there's, you know, folding chairs kind of scattered around, and a lot of overhead light. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Right. Right. 

GROSS: But it's such a... 

Mr. DECARAVA: You have good eyes.(Soundbite of laughter)

GROSS: Thanks. But, such a kind of quiet moment and... 

Mr. DECARAVA: Yeah. Yeah. I understand. I feel the same way about it. You know, one of the things that is important to me is that one doesn't have to be so literal and so narrow in one's perception of, say music.Music is a very broad category, if you will, and the musicians to me are very important. So it really is not so much about their playing, singularly - you know, photograph them playing something - but it's about my interest in them as people and how they... 

GROSS: Mm-hmm. 

Mr. DECARAVA: ...how they respond to what they do and what they do, you know, when they relax or when they go somewhere. You know, the idea that musicians are entertainers and then after they're entertaining, they disappear. They don't disappear. They go home. They go to their families or their friends and they eat like we do. So I'm interested in all of that. And their resting is certainly one that is very important to me and very beautiful. You know, it's not just the act itself. It's a kind of a perception of them in their total environment as much as possible, you know. 

GROSS: Mm-hmm. 

BIANCULLI: Roy DeCarava speaking to Terry Gross in 1996. 

More after a break. This is FRESH AIR.(Soundbite of music) 

BIANCULLI: Let's get back to Terry's 1996 interview with photographer Roy Decarava, who died Tuesday at age 89. He took photographs of Harlem's everyday residents and famous folk for more than 50 years. 

GROSS: One of the things I really love about your photographs is the lighting. Many of your photographs - I'd venture to say most of the photographs of yours that I have seen - are really pretty dark with very subtle shades of, you know, grays and blacks. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Mm-hmm.

GROSS: And it's clearly a work of art. It's not reality. This looks different than reality, because of the lighting.

Mr. DECARAVA: That's right. Right(Soundbite of laughter) 

GROSS: And I'm wondering what inspired you to go for that very dark atmospheric lighting that almost reminds me of certain film noir. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Uh-huh. Well, it's first of all; I have to confess that it's what I like.(Soundbite of laughter)Mr. DECARAVA: I love the tonal scale and the photographic scale, which means the simply the range of tone from black to white, it's so… I mean it's so unique. There's no other process that can give you this kind of tonality. And I'm in love with that. And, in addition to which, when I photograph, I accept the lighting conditions, whatever they are. And I try not to say well, you can't photograph that because it's too dark or there's not enough light. I don't believe in that.(Soundbite of laughter) 

Mr. DECARAVA: I believe if I can see it, I can photograph it, and I accept the outcome in the sense that it is black and white and that in itself removes it from reality. And a lot of the things that I do, for instance, are in the subway, and the subway is not exactly daylight. And even in people's homes, in terms of the technology, the film is sensitive, but in order to really show it, you have to really print at what I call full, and that tends to be on the dark side.Let's say if, you know, 50 percent is this and 50 - it tends to be more on the dark side of 50, and that doesn't bother me at all. In fact, it gives it a luminosity that you can't get by printing normally. And what we consider normal is the information. In other words, one of the things that one gets in a photograph is information. And I would rather sacrifice the information in terms of details and things like that...GROSS: Mm-hmm.

Mr. DECARAVA: ...for a feeling of mood.GROSS: Yeah. Yeah. Did you resist color when color came about? 

Mr. DECARAVA: Yeah. Well I didn't resist it. It just didn't attract to me. I was never attracted to it, because I didn't - at first I didn't like the garishness of it. Color, when it was first introduced, was very garish. 

GROSS: Mm-hmm. 

Mr. DECARAVA: And I did like that. But the main reason I don't use it is because it particularizes too much. It becomes - it's very difficult to do a color photograph without thinking about color first and not what the photograph is about, because color tends to be arbitrary, especially when you're dealing with human beings who dress up brightly when they're feeling sad and...(Soundbite of laughter) 

Mr. DECARAVA: ...when they're feeling bright, they may have on a black suit.(Soundbite of laughter)GROSS: Now I know your mother moved to New York from Jamaica when - I believe she was 17. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Right.GROSS: And she raised you as a single mother. Was she very determined that you would succeed? Did she push you? 

Mr. DECARAVA: No. She protected me...(Soundbite of laughter) 

Mr. DECARAVA: ...which is a little different.

GROSS: Mm-hmm. 

Mr. DECARAVA: She cared about me and she was very, I mean, she was really very concerned about me and very attached and caring. And she wanted me to do things. I mean she loved music so she wanted me to be a musician; and she loved the violin, so she wanted me to play the violin. But, I remember the turning point in our relationship, I think, or her perception of me, was when that a teacher from the public school system came to my house and told my mother that I was very gifted, and that she should encourage me - because the teacher was very encouraging. She had bought me a paint set and was very much concerned with my future. And she took the time to come to my house and talk to my mother about me, and I thought that was a - and I look back now...(Soundbite of laughter)

Mr. DECARAVA: ...and I can hardly see that happening nowadays. But it was a beautiful thing I think, on the part of the teacher. And my mother took her seriously, and from then on, she encouraged me to do and be what I wanted to be, you know, which was to draw and to pursue that avenue.GROSS: Now, in one of the catalogue essays, for the catalogue of your photography show, it explains that you were drafted in 1942 and that you had a terrible experience. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Forty-three.GROSS: Forty-three, okay. But it says you had a really bad experience in the military and that you were in a psychiatric ward for about a month and ended up with a medical discharge. What happened? Did you have a nervous breakdown? 

Mr. DECARAVA: I guess you'd call it that, yeah. And it was the conditions of - I hate to even think about it. It was just very uncomfortable and very mean and destructive, not only to me, but to so many black soldiers. Because at that time there were two Armies, you know. One was black and one was white. And the only reason for the separation is to treat black people different from white people. And that's what happened in the Army, and in the Army, there is no such thing as democracy. And you had to do what you were told.And they just try to break you down and make you a soldier, you know, which was something that went against what I was. So I had a difficult time, but I'm glad to be out of it and I no longer have nightmares. 

GROSS: How did being a soldier go against who you were?

Mr. DECARAVA: Well, because there was no - well, of course, it was you had to do things. You were forced to do things that you had really no interest in. And I didn't like the idea of killing people. I didn't like the idea of being killed. I didn't like the whole destructive thing that the Army is made for. It's made - I don't know - you can define it as protection. You can define it as this and that and the other, but the end result is about killing and not to be killed, and that was to - that to me is not a very civilized position to be in. 

GROSS: So, what was your month in the psychiatric ward like? 

Mr. DECARAVA: Well, it was where I learned about democracy.(Soundbite of laughter)

GROSS: What do you mean?

Mr. DECARAVA: I mean it was the only place in the whole United States Army where they - where we weren't segregated. So, we weren't really the crazy ones. 

GROSS: Oh.

Mr. DECARAVA: It was the people outside who were crazy.GROSS: That's interesting. So, did it change your sense of yourself when you got out of the Army? Did you see yourself differently than you did before you got in? 

Mr. DECARAVA: Yeah. I valued myself more.GROSS: That's interesting, because you'd think that kind of experience would kind of break you down and that you'd lose self esteem. 

Mr. DECARAVA: Well, if I stayed in there long enough, I probably would have. And that's what I was fighting against.GROSS: So, tell me about just coming out and feeling like you valued yourself more.(Soundbite of laughter) 

Mr. DECARAVA: Well, I just looked at the sky and I looked at the ground and I said, hallelujah.  (Soundbite of laughter) 

Mr. DECARAVA: It was - I was free to go and do as I please and to pursue my life in a way that was constructive. You know, I didn't have to learn how to shoot and how to do this and do that. And I felt that I could live. No one told me when to get up. No one was overtly cruel to me and mean and authoritarian. No, it was wonderful to be free, to get up in the morning and be responsible for yourself.GROSS: What kind of subject matter would you say interests you most now in your photography? 

Mr. DECARAVA: I think what it's about is my feelings.(Soundbite of laughter) 

Mr. DECARAVA: I mean, I've come to the conclusion that it's what I look at and it's how I feel about things that really is what I'm dealing with - not so much with the subject as how I feel about the subject. And the subject can be anything, depending how I feel at that moment, so that really it's about my perceptions that I'm really trying to express. And my perceptions are the same perceptions that human - other human beings feel. So, therefore, I have a kinship for that.GROSS: Roy DeCarava, I want to thank you very much, and congratulations on your show.

Mr. DECARAVA: Thank you. And I'm - I hope that you liked it and I hope that people liked it. And I was glad that I was invited to talk about it. Thank you.BIANCULLI: Roy DeCarava, speaking to Terry Gross in 1996, about his retrospective which started at the Museum of Modern Art. The famous Harlem photographer died Tuesday, at age 89. To see a gallery of his work, including his backstage photograph of Duke Ellington Orchestra, visit freshair.npr.org. 


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