Homecoming King
By Josef Woodard
This fall at the Iridium in New York City, they offered a due celebration of what would have been Art Blakey's 85th birthday (and a 10th birthday club for the club itself, now in its second location). The club's "Jazz Messenger Reunion" had no shortage of candidates for the gigs, given the large number of young players who were groomed during Blakey's long career as a bandleader and opportunity-maker for the jazz scene. One logical choice for this Blakey tribute, and others, was alto saxist Bobby Watson, who spent over four years with the Jazz Messengers before launching his own long and winding solo career.
It was, in other words, the gig was a homecoming for Watson, but just one of many, as it turns out. The professional jazz life is rarely predictable or linear, but Watson's story so far is especially twisty, its plot thickened with many different projects, liaisons and also genres, which can make going back to his roots a rich or complicated process.
In 2004, Watson had a reunion tour in Europe with his old group, the 29th Street Saxophone - a more straight ahead variation on the form taken "outside" by the World Saxophone Quartet. Continuing the nostalgic trend, Watson's second release on a new deal with Palmetto Records was a long-awaited reunion with his unique quintet Horizon, on the record sensibly entitled Horizon Reassembled, with original members Victor Lewis on drums, Terrell Stafford on trumpet, Edward Simon on piano and Essiet Essiet on bass.
But the biggest recent homecoming of all came in 2001, when Watson returned from New York City to his homeland of Kansas City (he was born in 1953 in nearby Lawrence, Kansas, a college town and home of William Burroughs). When he's not out on the road on assorted gigs, Watson now fills a new role in Academia, given the official position of William and Mary Grant/Missouri Professor of Jazz, and is the director of jazz studies at University of Missouri/Kansas City Conservatory in Music.
Also on his schedule, Watson works with the Thelonious Monk Institute's "Jazz in America" program and the "Jazz Across the Americas" band, an all-star band from musicians from different cities, including Nicholas Payton from New Orleans. At home in Kansas City, he has been helping nurture a newly heated jazz scene in one of the historical seedbeds of jazz, leading the 18th and Vine Big Band, which performed a Count Basie tribute with guests James Carter and Clark Terry in September.
The homecoming trail continues.
Jazz Hot : Although Horizon has just been "reassembled" for recent reunion shows and the new album, it sounds like you never left. There a collective energy and a cohesiveness of sonic personality. Do you sense that?
Well, we do have a sound when we all come together. That's another thing we discovered, that the group - as a group - has a sound. You get those five people together and there's something there. That's been pretty good.
Listening to this new album, it seems like the continuing saga of the group, in that you're mixing up different approaches. You even put a new set of clothes on "The Look of Love..."
Thank you for noticing. Some people say we didn't do anything with it, but we did.
Is there a certain philosophy that you bring to this group, distinct from other projects?
I think about all the players and how they play. I hear the sound of the group in my head and figure out which songs would work for the group. The song "Permanon" was written by one of my students for his combo here at school. We have them in the clubs once a month playing and I heard them play it at a club. Right away, I said "that sounds like a Horizon tune. I'd like to record it." I can just tell which tunes would work for us.
We have such a broad way to go because Victor can play anything, Edward has his Latin influences as well as his jazz and Essiet with his African influences and Terrell and I with the blend we get together. So you kind of know when you hear a tune that will work. It's like picking a tune for a singer. The band is an instrument in itself.
Thinking back to your ambitious 1991 Blue Note project, Post-Motown Bop, do you feel that it was under-appreciated, and maybe even ahead of its time?
Yeah, I think it was. It took people a few years to catch up with it. As we'd travel around, people would be asking about that record and bringing it up for the band to sign. At gigs, Victor would run into people who said "when's that band getting back together? That Post-Motown Bop record was one of my favorites."
It usually takes people a couple of years to really catch up to the music, unless if you're an aficionado like yourself, who keeps on top of things. But with the public, it takes a couple of years. We could see that people were talking about The Inventor and Post-Motown Bop. That was really one that was an underground hit. People were looking for that one all the time and it's out of print. I found a couple of them in Poland one time and I bought them there. It's one of those underground hits.
A lot of kids out there playing today, guys out there with names now, listened to it when they were in high school. Antonio Hart and people of that generation tell me that they listened to that in high school or in college, so it was a part of their development period.
Recalling the musical environment at the time, in the early '90s, you really were pushing the vocabulary in a way that not many people were. Was that your intention?
I was trying to make this quintet format a little freer, in terms of spreading the responsibilities around the group. A lot of that came from my experiences with the 29th Street Sax Quartet. The way that group would present songs, having to think outside the box with four saxes, sort of carried over into Horizon. With Victor and the rest, they were very creative people. For me, it was never a problem to think outside the box.
Was it almost a democratizing ideal?
Absolutely. Victor would present some songs that were a challenge for me. Even if I'm not comfortable on them at first, I'm motivated to work on them and find my comfort zone. Vice versa for everyone. We work with the songs until we find a comfort zone, and it comes down to a sound and a style of playing that we do as a group.
It's interesting that you mention the saxophone quartet as an influence. What is the connection between Horizon and that certain other quintet, the Jazz Messengers?
The connection is, for one, in the presentation of music in the way we pace the music. We try to give a performance where the audience loses track of time. Art always said that "music is supposed to wash away the dust of everyday life." So we try to do that with our band, make people feel good when they leave and keep things moving.
During live performances, we may play the head in on a song and we may not finish the song. We know each other so well, after the solo, we may not have to play the melody again going out. Sometimes, we'll just signal that the song is over. Or we may just play on one section of a tune. So we break the tunes up so it becomes more of a suite. Our performances are like one huge suite.
Again, that comes a lot from the Sax Quartet, but from Art comes the ideas of making people feel good and also bringing out new talent. We brought out Terrell Stafford and Edward Simon, who now have nice names for themselves in jazz. Now, it's like an all-star band. We still have young people in the wings who can maybe sub for us. Curtis Lundy was one of the original members in Horizon. He's a big talent scout, as well. I think Roy Hargrove's first recording was on No Question About It. He was still in high school.
We brought out Frank Lacy, appearing on one of his first recordings. On those terms, we're like the Messengers.
You've played various Blakey tributes and reunions, including the gig at the Iridium this fall. Does that stir up nostalgic thoughts about your Messenger stint?
Yes, it does. We've done a few of these already, some with Cedar Walton and with James Williams before he passed. We did something with Wynton at Lincoln Center. Whenever we get together, it's like old home week, because we're family. We start telling stories. People start talking like Art (in a gruff voice, "well, you know..."). It definitely stirs up a lot of memories. Of course, we're older now and hopefully more mature. It's fun to get back together. We really appreciate what we had back then. It's a lot of love, a love fest.
In the course of talking to jazz players from a certain age on up, there are Jazz Messenger alumni everywhere you look. They're behind every corner.
Yeah, he was the greatest jazz talent scout of all time, definitely.
How did you initially hook with Art?
Well, I was in New York sitting in. It was in 1976 and I'd just moved to town. Some people heard me and said "you know, you need to be with Art Blakey." I said "cool," even though I didn't really how much of a talent scout he was. One day on his birthday, we were playing at Storyville and my friend, Joe Kingston, brought Art down to this club to hear me. They brought him some champagne. I was playing with some Basie guys, with Curtis Fuller and Jimmy Forrest and Butch Miles, different ones. They played there when they had time off.
Curtis Fuller really took me under his wing and helped to arrange the introduction to Art. He came down to see Curtis and to hear this young man Curtis was talking about. The next thing I know, Art's up on stage playing with us. He grabbed me by the hand and took me into the men's room, and asked if I'd like to join the Messengers. That was on October 11 and I actually joined the group on January 11, 1977.
I assume that was a catalyst moment in your life?
Yeah, to me, that was a turning point right there, a crossroads. It was a whole new buzz.
How long were you with him?
I was with him for four and a half years. He finally had to kick me out. But it was ok. I was ready to go.
Was that part of his modus operandi, knowing when to push young players out of the nest?
Sure. He told me he had a lot more young people he wanted to bring through the band before he hung up his drums. I'd been with him for four and a half years with him and made x amount of records with him and went around the world with x amount of times. He showed me everything he could show me and said "I think you'll be able to fly."
Can you put your finger on some of the things that Art influenced or left an imprint on you?
Well, he made sure that everything we played swung. He made me always look for mistakes and not be afraid to make them, because mistakes are the gateway to discovery. He taught me to handle mistakes during your playing and turn them into something nice. That's important, and also how to build your solo from one chorus to the next.
Also, he taught how not to lean on a drummer for your time. He would play behind different ones on different nights, in terms of how much he would feed you on the drums. Some nights, he wouldn't give you anything but time, and you'd be on your own. He wouldn't let anyone get lazy, in terms of expecting him to build them up in their solos. He made you a very strong player, not having to lean on a drummer and still be able to build your solos.
Also, he knew how to pace a set. He'd look at an audience and know when to start soft and build loud, or start loud and go down in the middle and back up at the end. He just had different contours of sets of music which I saw him use in different situations. That was very important. Keep your eye on the clock. If somebody says 70 minutes, make sure it's 70 minutes. Or if it's one set, 70 minutes, stop at 60 minutes so you can get in an encore and still come in at 70 minutes.
He knew how to be an artist and how to talk to people, how to be engaging with people. Sign autographs. It's part of being an entertainer. He taught so much.
The word is that he also really stressed the importance of being "on" all the time onstage, not making excuses for a bad performance.
That's right. The bandstand was our altar, our sanctuary. He didn't allow any fatigue thoughts or negative thoughts on the bandstand. No matter how tired you were, when you were on that bandstand, you gave 120%. He led by example. Sometimes, we'd travel 16 or 18 hours a day. I'd swear he'd be so tired that we'd have a short set and "it's going to be easy. He's so tired. He's twice my age." But man, he'd hit that bandstand and the lights him, and his posture would change and his eyes would light up. He'd be another person.
He'd get on that bandstand and behind those drums and he didn't care about none of us, because he was there to play. We had to get drawn in with him, or else we'd get left out. There was no time to complain about "I'm sleepy, I'm hungry, I'm tired, my lip hurts." When you got on that bandstand, that was it. It was a great experience.
Back to the idea of comparing the Messengers and Horizon: in the '50s, when the band was starting and Benny Golson joined and wrote those classics, like "Moanin'" and "Blues March," the group moved in more of a bluesy sound, apart from what was going on elsewhere in jazz. In that way, would you say there was a stylistic parallel with Horizon, as well?
Yeah, it depended on who was in the band writing for him. When Wayne Shorter was in the band and started writing for him the sound changed. That was my favorite band of his. We try to have great compositions in Horizon and we've tried to be consistent on the bandstand.
Plus, you learn something from being in an organized band. The music goes deeper. In that sense, Horizon is an organized band. That's why we reassemble with the same guys. All that time apart, and the maturity and the growth, together just makes it deeper. That's one thing I learned from being in the Messengers, being there for four and a half years with pretty much the same guys. You really get into the deepness of the music.
You're from Lawrence, Kansas, but are basically a Kansas City native. That's home to you. It has such historical weight in jazz terms. How is it now as a jazz town, and is it getting better?
It is getting ready. We're going to have a jazz festival this year again, called "Rhythm and Ribs." It's going to be in the 18th and Vine district and will run for three days. The District is coming together.
There's a place our students can go down and jam six nights a week. Every night, there's a different p[lace they can go. We have our own club on Thursday that they let the students jam in. There's a lot of playing here for young people. The tradition is still here. It's not like it was in the heyday, when there were over 500 jazz clubs, but the fallout from the bomb that exploded then is still here. It's very much a jazz town.
And what was that bomb?
The jazz bomb. The Pendergast mob benefiting from the Prohibitionists. That's when there were 500 jazz clubs, running 24 hours. There are still people who remember those days. Jay McShann is still alive. We just lost Claude Williams, but there are plenty of people here who still remember those times. We're getting stories from them and trying to keep this tradition going.
Do you have a sense of the historical resonance there?
Oh yeah, absolutely, especially down on 18th and Vine. You can feel it.
It seems that now you may be in a position to lead the charge and build it up more, aren't you?
I am, actually. It's amazing. I represent Kansas City, which I'm very proud of. Wynton maybe represents New Orleans, and I'm here in Kansas City. I'm happy and proud for that. They do give me that respect here. They're happy that I'm back, and I'm happy to be back.
Looking over your career, you've touched on so many different niches. It's as if you refuse to be typecast. Is that by design?
Yes. And also by necessity. I'm trying to learn and make sure that I'm playing my horn all the time and being flexible, versatile and open to all kinds of music so that I can move between the camps and keep working. I raised my family, my two kids, by just playing my horn. I never had to drive a cab or nothing. I was always working, doing weddings, playing with rhythm, and blues bands, at the Rainbow Room playing for dancers, playing with some of the avant garde cats.
It's all music to me. You can find something in it and then you can enjoy it.
Do you feel that your interests are diverse as they ever were?
Oh yeah, absolutely (laughs).
That's just who you are?
That's it. Then there's gospel music, playing in the church, and there's world music. There's just so much stuff out there, Latin music and ethnic music from around the world. Greek music is very interesting to me. I got a chance to play with bouzouki players this past year, and Turkish musicians, with their odd meters. It's all fine.
I feel that jazz musicians should be to fit into any circumstance.
Do you subscribe to the idea that jazz is the most flexible genre to spring out of, to push into new directions?
Yeah. That's the definition of a jazz musician in 2004. He should be able to move between everything effortless, at least with a minimum degree of discomfort.