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KURT ROSENWINKEL
Wearing one of his trademark brimmed hats (not
a baseball cap, he stresses) and a casual combo of red
flannel shirt and worn blue jeans, Rosenwinkel, 42,
talks about his friendship with Clapton as well as
his latest release, the double-CD set Star Of Jupiter,
recorded with his steady quartet: pianist/keyboardist
Aaron Parks, bassist Eric Revis and drummer Justin
Faulkner. Rosenwinkel’s 10th album as a leader and
his fourth on the Word of Mouth Music label, Jupiter
captures him delivering a compelling summary of
his musical life, with its manifold modes of expression.
At turns meditative, reflective and hot-grooved,
the album exudes radiant energy as well as luminous
transcendence. The title track is a gleeful jaunt fit for a
rock arena, while the waltz “Heavenly Bodies” slowly
spins out as an 11-minute muse of soft-toned guitar
lyricism and piano sprinkles.
In 2000, Rosenwinkel told me that every period of
growth in an artist’s career must go through some
stage of instability: “You start off not knowing what
you’re doing, then you organize things so they become
ordered. Then when that order becomes static, you
have to break it up to create another state of instability,
which in turn throws you back into chaos. That’s what
continuing on to the next step is all about.”
For the past seven years a resident of Germany,
where he teaches at the Jazz Institute of Berlin,
Rosenwinkel has certainly experienced a fair share of
chaos, especially with the Jupiter project.
But he’s ready for even more in the near future,
including an improvisation-infused solo album
based on the concerts he’s been doing alone, a fiveyears-in-the-works
adventurous ensemble album
titled Caipi—which he likens to his 2003 Q-Tip
co-produced album Heartcore (Verve)—and a rock
’n’ roll album. “All the rock songs are written and
recorded with me singing lyrics for the first time,”
he says. “But we have other fish to fry first. I have so
much music that I want to get out there. Piles and
piles. I need to clear the deck.”
Underlying all of Rosenwinkel’s endeavors are his
dreams. Not just quaint aspirations or romantic
quests, but real, deep-to-the-marrow dreams that are
resonant, poignant and revelatory. Two dreams in particular,
which occurred more than two decades apart,
have significantly shaped his artistry. “Dreams have
always been a big part of my life,” he says. “Certain
powerful dreams have been important. They’ve given
me information. They’ve shown me life lessons.”
Our conversation begins with Rosenwinkel
vividly recounting a mid-’90s dream.
Dream No. 1: The Voodoo Priest
It’s the city at night and I’m in a limo. It pulls up to a banquet hotel, where all these
other limos are arriving. I get out, and everyone—the super rich, the super famous,
the super celebrities—is going to a gala dinner. And I’m thinking that this is such rich
bullshit. Inside I hear something. It’s Bobby Hutcherson playing the vibraphone down a
small flight of stairs. Oh man, I thought, This is great. My attention was drawn away from
the dinner. Then I see a pygmy dude, and he’s holding vibraphone mallets, too. But he’s
playing in the air, and he starts edging Bobby off the vibraphone. The pygmy is striking the
mallets in the air, but the vibraphone is still playing. He works the music up in a crescendo
until it’s a feverish pitch and then bang! A shot of flames flies out of his chest and catches
the banister on fire. Holy shit! And I’m the only one who notices it. I get up and go toward
the bathroom, which is down a hallway. On my right, there’s a room that is like a dark,
dilapidated New Orleans bedroom with a jet-black, bare-chested voodoo priest in a bed.
He has a candle on his chest. I keep walking toward the bathroom. I walk back and look in,
and he motions for me to come into the room. I kneel down next to the bed. He says, “Come
here, I want to tell you something,” then continues, “What you saw when the flames were
shooting out and catching the banister on fire—that’s not the hard part. The hard part is
increasing your energy little by little every day, so that in the end things like that are inevitable
and just happen. Now, that’s the hard part.”
DownBeat: Does this dream still manifest in your
life?
Kurt Rosenwinkel: Absolutely, with all the
things that have happened to me in my career.
They’re a result of this long-game dedication.
Crossroads is a good example of the flames shooting
out of my chest.
The newspaper amNewYork previewed the lineup
of the guitarists that Eric Clapton had assembled
for the benefit shows, with “the stars” being Jeff
Beck, John Mayer and Buddy Guy, and the “keep
an eye on…” column with your name included with
Sonny Landreth and Gary Clark Jr. How did you get
on this bill?
About a year ago, Eric texted me and asked if I
would be available. I replied, That could be arranged
… . [He and I] do a lot of texting back and forth.
When did that start?
Eric came to see me play at the Village Vanguard
last year. He had seen me play in the documentary
Icons Among Us: Jazz In The Present Tense, during
a segment where I was playing with the Brian Blade
Fellowship at the Newport Jazz Festival. Clapton saw
it on the television in England, and that’s when he got
interested in my music. He investigated my albums
and eventually made it a point to see me live.
Did you know he was coming to the Vanguard?
Yeah, his people called ahead to request seats for
him and [producer] Russ Titelman. They paid for the
tickets. So, I thought, Wow, cool. It was a surprise
and a real treat to meet him. We talked before the set
and then he hung out backstage after. I immediately
felt very comfortable with him. We had some kind
of chemistry that feels like we’re friends. He’s totally
cool and down-to-earth and straight-up and honest.
No trips. He’s very unassuming. Sometimes you
have to remind yourself how big he is and how he’s
such a fundamental root of rock music … . Even Jimi
Hendrix went to see Clapton in London. Jimi knew
all his songs and wanted to play with him.
How did your relationship develop?
We kept in touch and shared music. He gifted
me a playlist on iTunes of some of his favorite tunes.
There were 20 songs, including a wonderful version
of “The Folks Who Live On The Hill” by Peggy Lee,
and I absolutely fell in love with “Let’s Not Forget”
by Curtis Mayfield. I sent him a track from Kevin
Eubanks’ Opening Night, which is one of my favorite
albums. I included two Billie Holiday Decca tracks,
“Deep Song” and “No More,” plus a George Russell
piece, “Odjenar,” with Miles and Lee Konitz in the
band. I also sent Felicia Sanders’ version of Kurt
Weill’s “Speak Low,”
which is a rare gem I
found by looking through
record bins when I was younger. So our friendship
started very simply, with two musicians sharing with
each other. He treats me like a brother. We have a
soul connection.
During the Crossroads rehearsals and after the
shows, did you spend much time with Clapton?
Eric and I talked, and he showed me one of his
Stratocasters. I said that I had been thinking about
getting one. He asked me if I was going to get a new
guitar or if I wanted one of his [laughs]. The next
day at soundcheck his guitar tech asked me for my
address. Why? “Because we’re going to ship you one
of the Strats.” Really? Wow! The next day Eric texted
me and asked which one I wanted: the Porsche
Atlas Gray or the Ferrari Gray. I looked the colors
up, and they’re car paints. So I chose the Ferrari
26 DOWNBEAT JULY 2013