Branford Marsalis |
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Fri. October 11.2002 6:01 PM EDT |
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Branford Marsalis: Jazz Savvy, Pop OpinionsSaxophonist tackles point guards, jam bands, Springsteen, and stanky funk. by Jim Macnie |
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Branford Marsalis (VH1.com) |
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Rock fans recognize Branford Marsalis through a stint with Sting and a high profile gig on The Tonight Show. The charismatic saxophonist led Jay Lenos band during the early nineties. Jazz heads know Marsalis through a string of impressive
Hes also an utterly candid kind of guy. When Marsalis walks into a room, bullshit heads for the door. Thats a refreshing trait, and when combined with wit and a zest for life, its hard to resist. You can hear the musical equivalent of this personality on the new Footsteps of Our Fathers, a fierce and frolicking quartet record released on Marsalis own label. Backed by drummer Jeff Tain Watts, bassist Eric Revis, and pianist Joey Calderazzo, the saxophonist wails through a number of jazzs high water marks, including John Coltranes A Love Supreme and Sonny Rollins Freedom Suite. VH1 sat down with Marsalis during the bandleaders romp through New York. The subject matter flew in several directions during the chat, but by the end he provided valuable commentary on his New Orleans youth, the idea that musicians need hits to thrive, and the short life span of most rock tunes from the eighties. VH1: You had a hard-hitting show last night. Branford Marsalis: Its something that jazz has gotten away from, and its unfortunate. Players arent physical anymore. Its [become] real polished. You hear a song start and the drums are clean - tsh, tsh, tsh, tsh& Everyones playing in the altissimo register, it all sounds nice. Its not raucous enough. Thats something Tain and I talked about when we joined Wyntons band (in the early 80s). We were two kids growing up in a black neighborhood listening to rock and roll and R&B. He went to private school, I went to catholic school, and the kids at school kept trying to get us to choose. Theyd say We dont like that R&B stuff round here. And at home itd be Man, whats with the white boy music? But we got the best of both worlds and they got the best of one. So we stuck with it. And part of that was learning about making music physical, like rock. With the exception of Coltranes band and Tony Williams band and Art Blakeys band, that physicality is gone in jazz. Sheer raw energy - people really like the intensity. In metal the fans dont really know what the notes are, but they dig the intensity, whew! Thats what we want to do. Cept we dont have amps, so everybodys lips are shot and were all hangdog at the end of a show. I love it. I relish those opportunities to play hard. [Watch Clip] VH1: In the last few years, a section of indie rock fans have turned to whats called ecstatic jazz - loud, wild, clamorous stuff. Any reason rock and jazz audiences should be mutually exclusive? Marsalis: [Saxophonist] David Ware does that thing better than any body. Weve just got to get him heard, because rock fans will follow. And thats one of the things the Dead were always good with. There was a time in that northern California scene where the posters would say Grateful Dead. Opening: Thelonious Monk. Thats awesome, man - Bill Graham had a different thing going on out there. The market forced him to change his philosophy and I understand why he did, but I knew where his heart was. When the Dead started incorporating me in their stuff, and they got me to do a band with Bruce Hornsby and Kevin Eubanks. We started playing A Love Supreme and the audience really started digging that - thats their trip. VH1: You also sat in with the Dead. Did you have to have a different mind set than with your own jazz group? Marsalis: The Dead were actually the only rock group I played with where it didnt require a different mindset; I just walked and hit it. The chord structures are a lot simpler than jazz songs. Theyre written a certain way, so you cant play whatever you want. But there are moments within those songs where you can literally play whatever you want. And it works. Thats unheard of in pop music. I had a blast playing with them. VH1: Whats this about you and Nils Lofgren taking on other guys in two-on-two basketball? Marsalis: We started in 88 and resumed it during those two big rock tours for Amnesty International. Nils was playing with Springsteen. We had a formidable two-on-two thing going. Nils had a sweet jump shot, and I had a wicked elbow, and we were just beating the shit out of everybody. We were playing Tracy Chapmans manager, whose name escapes me at the moment. And hes saying You cant beat me, Im from Brooklyn, Im the kid, Im from way back. But we beat em. Nils is the man - we had a good inside-outside thing going on. I was bulky and Id post up guys and then kick it out to Nils and he was money in the bank. VH1: Whos the three hippest point guards of all time? Marsalis: Of all time? Clearly, Magics on the list. He redefined the big game. Then Oscar Robinson, because he was a point guard and shooting guard - amazing. And I guess Cous, man. Cousy. Those are my three. All these new guys are great. But they dont really make the team better. John Stockten did, but they never won. Jason Kidd clearly made his team better, and they almost won. But theres not that many. VH1: Whats more important in the 20th Century, melody or rhythm? Marsalis: To whom? Depends on who you talk to. To most people, rhythm. Especially when the Euro pop started and the drums were on all fours: boom, boom, boom, boom - you couldnt possibly get lost. Yeah, its rhythm. If you listen to a lot of the songs that are popular now, theres very little melody in there. People love the beat. But to musicians, its melody, because we understand how elusive it is and how hard it is to hold. VH1: You call the record Footsteps of Our Fathers. Does the past have more resonance in jazz than it does in pop? Marsalis: Pop doesnt really look back. It cant. What makes pop work is simplicity. I remember touring with Sting and he was talking about expanding his stuff: Listening to Bach, incorporating ideas. I said dont do that: its a Pandoras box you cant close. You start doing that and it changes your music. The thing that you do thats brilliant and simple and people love? Its going to become brilliant and complex and people will love it less. Most people who listen to pop who are 11, 12, 13 or so - they have no idea about the past and dont give a damn. But people who are lovers of pop music will do the research. There are people who can have wonderful careers a la Bruce Hornsby - his talent and his success doesnt hinge upon his ability to dance or make a great video. Hell have a job when hes 75 years old. Hell never fall out of fashion, because in some respects he was always a little too hip to be in fashion. Same with Bonnie Raitt or Sheryl Crow - they do their thing and know whats going on but dont live or die on being in the moment. [Watch Clip] Watch Branford speak about Bruce Springsteen's best music. VH1: You cut Coltranes A Love Supreme a long time ago. Now youve done it again on the new disc. Why the update? Whats changed? Marsalis: Everything. Im a better musician. Im a wiser person. I understand his music now. Even though I was never a notes and scales kind of player, theres always this thing of letting the music define the music - chord scales and notes all the things that the average record buyer knows nothing about, which is why its hard to get the average record buyer to buy a jazz record - were dealing with dynamics that they dont have any understanding of - which they shouldnt have to in the first place. So the band has grown, and for me the parts of Coltranes music that Ive understood emotionally and intellectually I didnt have the technical ability to match it the way it needs to be represented. I practice a bit more now - Im done with the side projects, playing with Sting or doing The Tonight Show, Ive got to a certain level where I can execute the music. Im ready to try it again. VH1: Why start your own label? Why take on the responsibility? Marsalis: Its nice to work with people who are eager. Rounder Records distributes our stuff. And Ive had more Rounder people come to my concerts in the first six months than in 20 years at Columbia. Matter of fact the only time I saw Columbia people at my concerts is when I played with Sting - then they were all coming out. And Im not mad at those guys. [Most of the labels workers] didnt sign up with Columbia to work with a guy like me. They signed up to work with Springsteen and whoever else is popular. Its just nice to know that people at the label are going to bust their ass to make sure that radio stations are going to get your product. The Rounder guys are involved in the music. VH1: You recently were quoted as saying that one of the first things youre going to tell artists who approach you about being on the label is that youre not cutting classic songs, the so-called jazz standards. Marsalis: Thats not actually what I said, but the whole point is give me a break with the standards. You go to the average jazz label and suggest a record and they want to know which standards youre going to play. Im saying lets break the formula. First off, nobodys buying em anyway. It might as well be smooth jazz: They put em on at the dentist and they talk through the music or whatever. So Im saying lets think outside the box. If youre going to use standards as criteria for signing musicians, you can sign thousands. If youre going to use some sort of conceptual interpretation thats based on the tradition of those standards, but is trying to move away from it, youre down to about 10 people or so. Once you get rid of that standard format, a lot of artists dont make the cut. The guy who did that interview with me said, Well, youre doing standards on your new album. And I a said All of a sudden A Love Supreme is a standard - what are you, crazy? Theres not one Tin Pan Alley song on my record. But if youre just doing The Way You Look Tonight without reconfiguring it, just because its a standard, well, for damn sure I dont want it on my label. VH1: As a teen did you involve yourself in New Orleans regional music, or did you snub your nose at it - the old familiarity breeds contempt thing. Marsalis: No, we embraced out culture in New Orleans. Our dad took us to hear the Meters, who were obscenely funky, stank funky. It was a great time. Remember, this was before the Reagan administration deregulated the radio stations and one company was allowed to own lots and lots of stations. So the whole national format is a somewhat recent phenomenon. But when I was a kid, virtually every station - rock or R&B - had a local group theyd play. I dont care where you were. In Cleveland, a Cleveland band made the cut. In New Orleans it was Chocolate Milk, and another was the Meters. They were never popular, but were always respected by musicians. Keith Richards went bananas for them; whenever the Stones were in town theyd throw wild-ass parties with the Meters. They opened for the Stones. So we grew up with that stuff. VH1: In your kid days: Are there songs that you recall your dad playing on the piano that you now, as a knowledgeable musician, know were big songs? Marsalis: One of em was Marvin Gayes Whats Going On. That was the one I liked. The other stuff... hey, my dad was a musician, it was just what he did, like another guys dad drives a meat truck. It wasnt like the media explains it these days, Marsalis: the first family of jazz! Our house was normal. Did you do your homework? No. When are you going to do it. When I get around to it. Im really serious about this, you know. I know, dad. We werent taken with the fact our dad was a musician. There was a club called Lu & Charlies, and they made the best damn charbroiled hamburgers. So wed go and pretend we wanted to hear the music - dad or whoever - when we just wanted the hamburgers. Me and Wynton - wed eat the burgers in the first set, and fall asleep on the table during the second set. Dad would carry us to the car. VH1: One of your trademarks is your no-bull personality. Did you recently stop one of your classical music concerts in the middle of a piece and tell the audience that you were way, way lost? Marsalis: I remember. I was playing with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra in San Francisco, and we were playing this Max Dubois piece that was notey as hell. Its like that Zappa piece, The Black Page, just notes, notes, notes. The tempo is killer, and at one point you have four clicks to turn the page. So we started and I grabbed and turned it, and knocked the music off the stage. And wed rehearsed it so much that I remembered it and kept going. And every time I thought I had a space to breathe, I reached for the music, but didnt have enough time to grab it. And I went through 75% of the thing and reached the spot where I didnt remember it anymore. And the violinist helped me. He stopped and picked up the music, but when he placed it in front of me, it was upside down - useless. Finally it reached a point where I just stopped and said to the audience, Im sorry. I just cant keep doing this. I dont know how I even remembered this much of it. Give me a second and well continue. [Watch Clip] VH1: People respect that kind of candor. Marsalis: They love imperfection. Because humans are imperfect. Thats one of the reasons that classical and jazz are in trouble. Were on the quest for the perfect performance and every note has to be right. Man, every note is not right in life. There are bumps in the road and misses and squeaks. You make a mistake in the studio, and the producer says Well clean that up in the mix. You listen to these classical records and theyre absolutely pristine - no mistakes. How is that possible? I go to concerts, know thats bull. Ive never been to a performance where a musician doesnt miss notes. VH1: Youve called your time with Sting and The Tonight Show, exquisite diversions. When youre all alone, driving home in the car, do you wonder why you left jazz to make those moves? Marsalis: Perfect question. I just moved to North Carolina, and I was recently in this fancy-schmancy shopping mall, and they had the music piped in through the garden - the speakers were hidden right in the rocks of the garden. And Stings Englishman In New York was playing. And I stopped... for almost the whole song. And I waited, listened, and started to smile. And I remembered that it hadnt been so long since I saw a TV commercial for 80s Rock! The best of the decade! And everything I heard there sounded dated. When you think of Pat Benatar songs and Madonna songs, and other songs from the 80s - they sound bad, old. But Englishman sounded good that day, like it could have been made last week. It withstood the test of time and I was glad I was a part of it. Im glad I did all that stuff, and I still bring its memories with me when I play. I think it gives me an edge that other jazz guys dont have. A different perspective. I dont regret those moves. But the reality is when you make them for that amount of time, youre constantly playing catch-up with your primary thing. Thats all I meant. [Watch Clip] VH1: If you wanted to bring a music fan who knows nothing about jazz to a really convincing show, which artist would you take them to? Marsalis: Living or dead? VH1: Living. Marsalis: Nobody. Living?! Shit... nobody. A lot of musicians remind of Jim Careys character in The Cable Guy. Theres some kind of fucked up emotional disconnect thats gone on. In his case the TV was the babysitter. In their case jazz was the babysitter. Know what I mean? Really nerdy cats who spent their whole lives in the jazz world working on music. At best it has a certain kind of introspection. At worst its completely self-indulgent. Like, the only world that matters to the artist is the artist. Its not uncommon for me to go to a concert when a quartet or quintet is playing, and all I see on stage are five individuals completely immersed in their own vainglorious pursuits of whatever it is theyre pursuing. Stellar technical solos or whatever. But they sure arent listening to one another. The lions share of what I hear right now are people who, intentional or accidental, have avoided all jazz prior to 1960. And all the musicians who were successful in the sixties spent their entire lives, prior to 1960, listening to all the musicians these people avoid. Kind of like an Ohio garage band who wants to play like Led Zeppelin. Tell to check out Muddy Waters and they say, No, we dont want to play like that. We want to play like Led Zeppelin. Theres a disconnect. Which is why they dont sound like Led Zeppelin. They sound like theyre trying to sound like Led Zeppelin, they sound like Whitesnake. VH1: Name a record that people who are into you would be surprised youre into. Marsalis: Gino Vanelli. When I was a kid I dug Gino Vanelli. There were a couple of groups that were very popular in New Orleans, and one was Frankie Beverly and Maze. When New York wouldnt spit on him, Frankie Beverly played New Orleans four or five times a year. Another guy was Gino Vanelli - he was a star there and nowhere else for a while. Two albums in particular: Powerful People and Storm At Sun Up. They had the jazz chords. Man, me and pal Kermit Campbell. We used to love us some Gino Vanelli. |
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