Captain Bacardi
Well-Known Member
This was posted at the 52nd St forum by our good friend Bob Bragonier, and was written by valve trombonist extraordinaire Bob Brookmeyer. It's some interesting reading:
Fame Is a DESTRUCTIVE THING!!
by Trombonist/Composer/Arranger Bob Brookmeyer in his Monthly Column for Jazzplus
Political critics virtually eviscerate targets but in "Jazz Journalism," we kill by omission. Not always so, I assure you, having been a subject, a critic and a member of, by comparison, a very opinionated and outspoken generation (1953-1965 or so). There was a Down Beat roundtable around 1962 -- probably on "the future of jazz," a favorite topic in those still-hopeful days -- and Manny Albam, George Russell, Don Ellis and I were among the anointed that day. Closing statements, in print: Don Ellis: "In my opinion, Jazz will be dead in 5 years." Bob Brookmeyer: "If you keep playing, that's a guarantee!" I did not care for Don, his playing, his band and probably wouldn't have liked his car, if he had one. Now, we did not come to blows -- plenty of people didn't like me either I guess, but we didn't take it "personally."
I give players being audited 6-8 times, and then the jury is back with the verdict. I tried Lester Bowie and -- rest his soul -- I found him fraudulent to the highest degree. Half valve smears and a dentist's smock. David Murray is in there also, while putting a rap on "cosmetic" bands (white boys, I guess) in favor of poorly written, sloppily played junk. The Coltrane salute was insoluble. Metheny's road bands (at least in the old days) were just this side of Kenny G. -- when he and Jim played at the Jim Hall Invitational some years past, one note from James closed the area for further use. Pat is very, very good but I don't see great, lasting results from the Hancock, Shorter, Hubbard and Corea generation.
Motivating factor -- MONEY! I live good on 200K a year -- a million plus won't give me anything except MORE, and I have more than enough of everything. And I can still dance to my own tunes, not worry about getting my ass kissed all the time and live my own life. I don't OWE the public anything. Fame is a very destructive thing, in my observation. I can't say from experience, having never been famous, but Getz, Mulligan, Mingus et al. provided some good lessons. Gerry, in 1957, had a Carnegie Hall Studio, next to Paddy Chayevsky, the playwright ("Marty") and was justifiably proud of it. I liked it too. Good to hang with the mighty now and then. However, in almost 2\two years, the only music written there was a page one sketch, big band score, of "Off Minor" -- period. We rehearsed there, listened to the pirate "Paris Concert" tapes there ("we promise that we will not record" -- trust the French! Always good in a war too) and in general hung out a lot. NOW -- I am told that Gerry, with new son and wife and fine apartment and world-renowned reputation, would -- fully and well dressed -- set off each morning to "write a masterpiece," since that is what was expected of him--by himself, to a degree and by the Jazz world.
Blank music paper is the great leveler. You cannot pull any wool over the eyes of a pad of music paper, no matter how big your rep is outside the studio. So, creep in with great humility, ask the Music God (there IS one, you know) for some forbearance and begin to w-o-r-k. No waspwaisted ladies with a glass of white wine curled in the hollow of the Steinway, no Tuxedoed composer with flowing mane, serenading the beauty with "my THEME!!! -- just you, a pencil, an eraser, some lines on paper and the Music God. Since no one can decide beforehand to "write lousy" or "write great" today, we are -- to some extent -- receivers of spirits. At some point in the piece, the music does seem to take possession of the corporeal being and your wife gets a hobby to get through the creative process.
Back to the "monied" generation, the one after mine. I have not found that you can peddle your ass for 20 years on the street and then turn around and become a "real lady" without some tire tracks on the bod. Wayne's first 3 LPs, after Weather Report, were incrementally boring and commercial. I had just returned from alcohol rehab and was not aware that, in my absence, he had become important! So, if nobody tells me who is playing, some REALLY interesting opinions get formed. That's what is great about Blindfold Tests. The Times, of course, had a big Sunday section devoted to each LP as it arrived in the store. OK, OK -- I ain't against PR or fame or none of that $#!^, BUT -- if it don't talk, it won't walk. Wayne is a fine man and I wish him all good things, but when someone is given to you as a demigod, their work becomes fair game. Their work, in fact, should be outstanding, so that second tier wannabes like me get inspired, the way the "big guys" frightened and inspired me. Bill Finegan, Eddie Sauter, Strayhorn, Gil -- these people knew more than I would EVER grasp. What happened to excellence? The Art Ensemble of Chicago? Not here, please.
In a Jazz Ambassadors interview, I said "I grew up around great musicians and they all died -- God bless Lee Konitz for still being here" -- I was charmed, in my life. My hero, Count Basie, asked me -- on the way out of Birdland in 1955 -- to write something for his band. Duke called me at 2 AM in my office, asking me to join HIS band in 1962. It was like hearing the voice of God. The encouragement from great players and writers was wonderful -- they GAVE to me. I now do my best to give to my students and to my New Art Orchestra. Ensemble teaching is almost a dead art and I worry that I will live long enough to make the necessary Video, explaining exactly how it gets done. I was there, I listened and absorbed the music and the phrasing and the timing in the good old days and now I HAD to now learn how to teach 18 dudes to fake an orgasm. It sounds REAL eventually and, with my band, it gets to be shared love and joy and music. I hate to shoot down folks, but there is SO much Corporate baloney being shoved at me, that -- since the big boys won't record me -- what have I got to lose. As the Vanguard Band said one Monday last year, "Yeah, man -- tell 'em -- tell those MF's the truth -- we'll stand in back of you!" I THINK that means I get shot first. MEDIC!!! - - - -
Capt. Bacardi
Fame Is a DESTRUCTIVE THING!!
by Trombonist/Composer/Arranger Bob Brookmeyer in his Monthly Column for Jazzplus
Political critics virtually eviscerate targets but in "Jazz Journalism," we kill by omission. Not always so, I assure you, having been a subject, a critic and a member of, by comparison, a very opinionated and outspoken generation (1953-1965 or so). There was a Down Beat roundtable around 1962 -- probably on "the future of jazz," a favorite topic in those still-hopeful days -- and Manny Albam, George Russell, Don Ellis and I were among the anointed that day. Closing statements, in print: Don Ellis: "In my opinion, Jazz will be dead in 5 years." Bob Brookmeyer: "If you keep playing, that's a guarantee!" I did not care for Don, his playing, his band and probably wouldn't have liked his car, if he had one. Now, we did not come to blows -- plenty of people didn't like me either I guess, but we didn't take it "personally."
I give players being audited 6-8 times, and then the jury is back with the verdict. I tried Lester Bowie and -- rest his soul -- I found him fraudulent to the highest degree. Half valve smears and a dentist's smock. David Murray is in there also, while putting a rap on "cosmetic" bands (white boys, I guess) in favor of poorly written, sloppily played junk. The Coltrane salute was insoluble. Metheny's road bands (at least in the old days) were just this side of Kenny G. -- when he and Jim played at the Jim Hall Invitational some years past, one note from James closed the area for further use. Pat is very, very good but I don't see great, lasting results from the Hancock, Shorter, Hubbard and Corea generation.
Motivating factor -- MONEY! I live good on 200K a year -- a million plus won't give me anything except MORE, and I have more than enough of everything. And I can still dance to my own tunes, not worry about getting my ass kissed all the time and live my own life. I don't OWE the public anything. Fame is a very destructive thing, in my observation. I can't say from experience, having never been famous, but Getz, Mulligan, Mingus et al. provided some good lessons. Gerry, in 1957, had a Carnegie Hall Studio, next to Paddy Chayevsky, the playwright ("Marty") and was justifiably proud of it. I liked it too. Good to hang with the mighty now and then. However, in almost 2\two years, the only music written there was a page one sketch, big band score, of "Off Minor" -- period. We rehearsed there, listened to the pirate "Paris Concert" tapes there ("we promise that we will not record" -- trust the French! Always good in a war too) and in general hung out a lot. NOW -- I am told that Gerry, with new son and wife and fine apartment and world-renowned reputation, would -- fully and well dressed -- set off each morning to "write a masterpiece," since that is what was expected of him--by himself, to a degree and by the Jazz world.
Blank music paper is the great leveler. You cannot pull any wool over the eyes of a pad of music paper, no matter how big your rep is outside the studio. So, creep in with great humility, ask the Music God (there IS one, you know) for some forbearance and begin to w-o-r-k. No waspwaisted ladies with a glass of white wine curled in the hollow of the Steinway, no Tuxedoed composer with flowing mane, serenading the beauty with "my THEME!!! -- just you, a pencil, an eraser, some lines on paper and the Music God. Since no one can decide beforehand to "write lousy" or "write great" today, we are -- to some extent -- receivers of spirits. At some point in the piece, the music does seem to take possession of the corporeal being and your wife gets a hobby to get through the creative process.
Back to the "monied" generation, the one after mine. I have not found that you can peddle your ass for 20 years on the street and then turn around and become a "real lady" without some tire tracks on the bod. Wayne's first 3 LPs, after Weather Report, were incrementally boring and commercial. I had just returned from alcohol rehab and was not aware that, in my absence, he had become important! So, if nobody tells me who is playing, some REALLY interesting opinions get formed. That's what is great about Blindfold Tests. The Times, of course, had a big Sunday section devoted to each LP as it arrived in the store. OK, OK -- I ain't against PR or fame or none of that $#!^, BUT -- if it don't talk, it won't walk. Wayne is a fine man and I wish him all good things, but when someone is given to you as a demigod, their work becomes fair game. Their work, in fact, should be outstanding, so that second tier wannabes like me get inspired, the way the "big guys" frightened and inspired me. Bill Finegan, Eddie Sauter, Strayhorn, Gil -- these people knew more than I would EVER grasp. What happened to excellence? The Art Ensemble of Chicago? Not here, please.
In a Jazz Ambassadors interview, I said "I grew up around great musicians and they all died -- God bless Lee Konitz for still being here" -- I was charmed, in my life. My hero, Count Basie, asked me -- on the way out of Birdland in 1955 -- to write something for his band. Duke called me at 2 AM in my office, asking me to join HIS band in 1962. It was like hearing the voice of God. The encouragement from great players and writers was wonderful -- they GAVE to me. I now do my best to give to my students and to my New Art Orchestra. Ensemble teaching is almost a dead art and I worry that I will live long enough to make the necessary Video, explaining exactly how it gets done. I was there, I listened and absorbed the music and the phrasing and the timing in the good old days and now I HAD to now learn how to teach 18 dudes to fake an orgasm. It sounds REAL eventually and, with my band, it gets to be shared love and joy and music. I hate to shoot down folks, but there is SO much Corporate baloney being shoved at me, that -- since the big boys won't record me -- what have I got to lose. As the Vanguard Band said one Monday last year, "Yeah, man -- tell 'em -- tell those MF's the truth -- we'll stand in back of you!" I THINK that means I get shot first. MEDIC!!! - - - -
Capt. Bacardi
