Interview John Beasley By Eric Nemeyer JI: What were the first sounds that attracted you to jazz JB: My mom and dad are musicians. My dad is a jazz pianist. He also plays saxophone and bassoon. He was always listening to Art Blakey, Bird, Trane and others, around the house in addition to classical music. So I grew up with it but not really knowing it was there. I started playing instruments and playing along with records. I was playing drums and I was into the Beatles and Led Zeppelin. One day I walked into my dad’s office and he was playing this Bobby Timmons record call Soul Time. That record just grabbed me. At the house, he started playing the Jimmy Smith Midnight Special record. They were kind of crossover records for me because they were funky. They were accessible. From that point on, I was just crazy about it. They made me play piano — although I was interested in playing drums or guitar or playing with my friends outside. I had this band and the piano quit right before a gig, and I had been playing classical piano. So I started playing piano and discovered that I was much better at it than I was on guitar. Playing piano got me into writing, and I started getting into Quincy Jones—and buying albums, like Walking In Space, Gula Matari, Then I got into Thad Jones and Mel Lewis and the big band thing. Then he brought home Maiden Voyage. I didn’t know what it was, but I wanted to listen to it again. That’s how I got into Miles and the whole modern thing. That led me to Herbie Hancock and then all the Dexter Gordon things, and I realized I wanted to do that. JI: What kinds of discussions do you recall having with Chick Corea or Freddie Hubbard that made an impact on you. JB: With Chick, it was through John Patitucci. John and I started playing in our early 20s and we started playing together every chance we got. Then he got that deal with GRP Records, and I’m on all of those and some of the Concord records. Chick produced the first couple and we played together on those. He’s so into things. One minute he’s doing a string quartet and the he’s playing a bebop gig with Roy Haynes and so on. So, I asked him, “how do you keep all that going?” It was inspiring to see how he could just plug into any idiom—especially because I was just starting to do studio work. So, I would show up at a studio gig and not knowing what I was going to play, or what style, having to read things and having to do it quickly. Chick has this masterful technique. There are no barriers. He would practice trying to play what he was hearing in his head—whether it came out or not. But, this was something he actually worked on—instead of just playing scales and improvising, hoping it would <strong>com</strong>e together. He would make this conscious effort. I started working with Freddie Hubbard when I was 22. A lot of what I learned from Freddie was by example. He would start every night by playing “Byrdlike,” blazing, without warming up or anything. It was so fast that you’re just trying to keep up—and try to play cool stuff, and be hip. I didn’t know what I was doing then anyway. It was an old school gig — like what I imagine it would be being out with Art Blakey or Dex[er [Gordon]. He would just disappear at the gig and you would be on your own to get to the next gig. He would often <strong>com</strong>e on stage and start playing a ballad, but you couldn’t tell what it was, even “No matter how good you felt you played on one song, on the next song he would just totally blast you — and you’d be back to being humbled again.” after the intro. If you didn’t know the tune, you had to play it anyway. Those are great lessons for a young dude — learning it on the set. There was one time where Freddie had launched into “Stardust,” and I didn't know that tune, and I had to do the intro with him—the verse. It’s tricky through there. So at some point this guy in the audience was calling out chord changes for me. [laughs] It was pretty humbling. I guess that’s what he could do. No matter how good you felt you played on one song, on the next song he would just totally blast you—and you’d be back to being humbled again. JI: What kinds of conversations did you have with Freddie? JB: There were conversations about <strong>com</strong>ping. He would yell, “Don’t lead me. Don’t lead me.” And, you’d have to figure out what he meant by that. He wanted me to play more 13ths and 6ths and he wanted me to chug the rhythm along instead of reacting to what he was doing. I think that’s what he meant by leading—reacting too much. He loved to duke it out with drummers. We talked about harmony. When we played ballads, he always said, “Listen to Bill Evans.” I Hear John Beasley with his quartet at the <strong>Jazz</strong> Standard, July 27. His current album, Positootly, is available on Resonance Records. thought that was cool. It would have been great to hear those two guys together. I was more into Cedar Walton—and funkier players at that point. It was a little bit later that I got into Bill Evans. I think we were going to play “Skylark” and he said, “You need to go and listen to Bill play ‘Skylark.’” So I did. JI: How did your association with Miles Davis develop? JB: In the late 1980s there was this club called Les Café where everyone used to play at. I had a band with Garry Willis, Vinnie Coliauta, Steve Tavaglione. We had a once a week hit there for a couple years. It got pretty popular and it was pretty wild. It was electric. But, we would just improvise sets—which was different for LA for that time. The people who were more hard core in LA would <strong>com</strong>e out and hear this band. And, Miles Davis’ nephew, Vince Wilburn had just stopped playing with the band, and began working with Miles as a right hand man. Vince came in and would hang out, and all these Chicago guys would <strong>com</strong>e in and hang out - so I got to know him. He said, “Why don’t you make me a tape for Miles?” He didn't say Miles was looking for anyone. So I went back to my home studio and put up the Alesis HR-16 on a loop, and just improvised with my rig … and played over beats. I made a cassette and gave it to Vince and totally forgot about it. I put it out of my mind, thinking, “I don’t even want to think that anything could possibly happen with this.” A couple months later, he called me and asked me to join the band. JI: What discussion ensued? JB: Miles told me over and over, “If you can’t <strong>com</strong>p like Ahmad Jamal, then don’t play.” It was my first window into understanding how dedicated to art he was every day. Every night after the show, he would listen to the show. He’d have a cassette there, and he would listen — and he would have a <strong>com</strong>ment for you before the next show. He would either call you into the dressing room and have something very specific to say— either about a section of the tune, or what he wanted from you. He was kind of cryptic the way he would say things to you. The <strong>com</strong>ment about Ahmad Jamal … my first reaction was that I never heard Ahmad <strong>com</strong>p for anybody except a bass player. What I think he meant — and it’s <strong>com</strong>e to me through the years — is, make a statement and get out of the way, and orches- (Continued on page 12) 10 July 2011 � <strong>Jazz</strong> Inside Monthly � www.<strong>Jazz</strong>InsideMagazine.<strong>com</strong> To Advertise CALL: 215-887-8880
dick griffin www.DickGriffin1.<strong>com</strong> ORDER Dick’s new CD time will tell with Cecil McBee, bass George Cables, piano James Spaulding, alto sax & flute Victor Lewis, drums
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