F* Yeah! Jazz

Music, like most things these days, is considered a young person’s game. Most songwriters do write the bulk of their material early. Very few performers make a splash late in life. If a musician such as Miles Davis or Bob Dylan goes through several incarnations over the course of a lifetime, that becomes his signature, with the implication that most people just don’t do this. Jones, by his example, put the lie to that kind of thinking. He wasn’t splashy, but by maintaining a restless, yearning spirit all his long life, he reminded us that there are no boundaries in music, that it’s never settled, that you can always learn more, do more, notch it up to a new level, no matter how old you are.

Anyone who plays music with any seriousness, at any age, knows this implicitly, but most of us aren’t Hank Jones, so we think, “Well, if I played and practiced as much, I might somehow attain the level of [your hero here].” We don’t stop to think that, in fact, there’s never any stopping, never any “good enough.” Jones, having no one he had to look up to, saw clearly that he was just getting his feet wet in the great ocean of music. There was always room for something new. You could say, in that respect, that he was cut down in midcareer. What a hero. Go listen.

“

—	Malcolm Jones, in a really nice appreciation of Hank Jones. (via newsweek)

Hank Jones R.I.P.

“…one of the greatest piano players that we’ve ever had. He had a profile as a piano stylist in his own right and could do everything — stride, bebop, swing, serve as a great accompanist. He had such command of all the aspects of jazz piano. He was just remarkable until the very end.” –Dan Morgenstern

My friend Nick Moy pointed out this Washington Post obituary on jazz pianist Hank Jones. Partly because of the two records I produced in the 70s when Nick and I were roommates, but mainly because there were very few talents like Hank.

It must be said that Hank Jones being “produced” by a white kid from the New York suburbs is a complete overstatement, but it was an experience I’ll never forget. As is said about him almost everywhere, Hank was a gentleman to the core, with a soft but purposeful approach to life, which translated into his persuasive musicianship. A few hours spent with him translated into deep life lessons on many fronts.

Check out this half hour radio show, Piano Jazz Session on NPR’s Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz, and you’ll not only get a taste of some great piano, but of a real man in a tough business. (via Frederator Studios Blog)

My mentors: Joe Fields

fredseibertdotcom:

I’ve been posting quite a few of the records I produced or engineered at the beginning of my career, and lately in particular, the Muse records. Which has gotten me thinking about the incredibly important role Muse founder Joe Fields didn’t mean to play in my work life.

Somehow or other I ended up in Joe’s office (above the West 71st Street Bagel Nosh) in 1976 asking for a gig “producing” records (like I even knew what that was). Joe, in his always enthusiastic way, happily gave me an immediate assignment (I think it was the first Linc Chamberland LP), and for the next three or four years I was a willing student in his unintended record business class.

I won’t bore you with all the things I got out of those “lessons,” but suffice it to say that Joe had forgotten more than I would ever know. How to pick an artist? How to promote? What to ignore? How to negotiate? What’s important, what’s not? When’s a good time to take a chance? Who was Juggy Murray? What was ‘producing’ anyhow?

Joe introduced me to the real world. Without him I never would’ve gotten to work with 24 track recording, or get to meet the legendary Rudy Van Gelder. To say nothing of the artists like Hank Jones, Willis Jackson, Jaki Byard, or the others. And, he didn’t mean to change my musical tastes —I’m sure it was of no consequence to him whatsoever— but I walked in dedicated avant gardist and walked out a lifelong soul jazz devotee. (Soul jazz didn’t only sell better and longer, but was a lot more fun.)

There was a lot of history in Joe that I just soaked up and it was always fun dropping by the office just to listen to him on the telephone, working it with an artist, a studio, or maybe a distributor or radio station. Things that were second nature to him were golden to my uneducated ears, and I just couldn’t get enough. My only complaint is that I wanted more. More projects, more time, and more money. Mainly more projects, because they were just so much fun. But, I was going broke on the $250 a record he was paying me, though I now know if he paid me anything more he would’ve gone out of business. Lesson #1, being a survivor in the independent record business is never easy, and probably requires you to disappoint almost everyone wanting a better payday.

It was at a disastrous Muse session in Brooklyn that I called my friend, Muse liner note writer, and future partner Alan Goodman to come and help me figure out whether to stop trying to make a living at record producing and try my hand in the then revolution of cable television. You know who won.

Working with Muse Records was a once in a lifetime, unforgetable experience. Not all the records I worked on for Joe were wonderful. And some were beyond fantastic, truly world class. But, no matter the project, it was a rare privilege Joe Fields allowed me.

Joe was, and continues to be, a generous man. Thanks guy.