Houston PERSON (Jazz Hot 635)

Interview by Josef Woodard

Although Houston Person is considered a bold and distinctive player, who has stayed his musical course for decades, Houston Person hasn’t quite bumped up into the upper echelon of veteran tenor saxists. But the time may be ripe. The world needs more such wise, no-nonsense tenor players who bring a soulful and lived-in maturity to their playing.
Person’s gift, especially when working out on ballads and blues, is for melodically-charged statements that speak plainly and to-the-heart. Simplicity, and an accompanying lack of pretense, becomes an almost philosophical statement in Person’s playing. That may have explained why, when he played at the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival in Moscow, Idaho last February, Person brought down the house without really trying.
He had been brought up to the stage, to play with the festival’s house band, an impressive band including guitarist Russell Malone, pianist Benny Green, bassist John Clayton and drummer Jeff Hamilton. Many other flashier soloists were on the bill that night in February, but the only spontaneous mid-song standing ovation this evening was for Person’s coolly passionate, and virtually improvisation-free reading of the melody to “Since I Fell for You.” He seemed a bit startled by the crowd response, but there was nothing contrived about the ovation: the melody, in Person’s hands, registered deeply and immediately.
Fittingly, the song is a featured track from Person’s latest album, To Etta with Love, a tribute to his longtime bandstand partner, singer Etta Jones, who passed away in 2001. On the album, Person mostly keeps his cool, while guitarist Paul Bollenback plays the role of the more active, gymnastic soloist. They make for a fine musical tag team.
There is a buzz of history, personal and musical, in Person’s saxophonic voice these days, befitting a player who has consistently done fine, tasteful work in the margins of the jazz scene. Born in Florence, South Carolina on November 10, 1934, Person grew up listening to music in the church and then on the radio, at a time when eclecticism ruled the airwaves. He absorbed blues, jazz, country and western and even opera coming up, and has always maintained a broad interest in music, although keeping his own music focused largely on mainstream jazz, with a bluesy emphasis. Balladry, too, has always been a main avenue of musical expression, although his ballad playing now seems to have taken on new depth and meaning.
In his four-decade career so far, Person has had long and fruitful relationships with the Prestige label and later Muse Records, which morphed into the present-day High Note.
At the time of a recent interview, he had just returned from a gig in Kansas City to his home in Westchester County, just north of Manhattan. Person is an amiable conversationalist, whose cool demeanor only subsides a bit when expressing frustration over what he perceives as being misunderstood by dismissive jazz critics. Otherwise, person is a seasoned musician and human being with a healthy, swinging sense of self.


Jazz Hot : At the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival, you performed in concert, and also gave a master class to a theater of young musicians. When you do see a group of young players and students, do you feel like jazz is maybe in good hands? There’s so much more jazz in higher education these days than in decades past.
Yeah. They just keep coming and coming. Yeah, jazz is in good hands. The kids are preparing themselves. I think it’s in good hands. I just wish there was more opportunities for them to play while they’re learning, with the established older guys. They can get some of that reality.

A reality check?
Yeah, but I guess it will work out.

One thing that impressed me that afternoon was the way you didn’t promote jazz snobbery. You seem open to all kinds of music, and told them they can find good songs anywhere. Is that part of your musical philosophy?
Oh yeah. If you get involved in all types of music and then bring that experience to improvisation, you’ll be much better off, by having experienced all types of music.

Were you always open to different kinds of music, coming up?
Always, yeah. I liked everything. I still do.

Your latest project, To Etta, With Love, pays tribute to a longtime collaborator. You had a great rapport and long relationship with Etta Jones, a rare thing in jazz. How did it start with her, and how did that develop?
Well, we just started out with my having engagements where I’d take a singer, when they wanted one. Back in that time, they used to have shows. They’d have singers and dancers, and I came out of that tradition. I always wanted a singer with the band. So when I did go to places that wanted a singer with the band, I’d always take her. Sometimes, I’d work without her and one day she asked `why didn’t you take me on that job?’ I said `I didn’t know you wanted to go, and they didn’t particularly ask me for a singer.’ She said `well, just take me on all the jobs.’
So that’s the way it developed. I would take her on all the jobs. It just kept evolving and we were intertwined. She just stayed in the group, and she ended up being there for 35 years. That was the way that developed.

That must be some kind of record.
Yeah, she was always there.

On this album, you chose tunes that were her favorites, and her hits. Was her voice kind of ringing in your ear when you were making it?
Sort of, yeah. I was trying to sometimes do interpretations that were as close to her as possible. At other times, I took the songs and did them my way. It was a mixture, but the whole album was a tribute to her. Those were songs that she had done.

“Don’t Go To Strangers” was a big one for her, wasn’t it?
Yeah, that was a huge hit for her. She could have very well worked off of that song for the rest of her life, which she did. But she could have really went after it, and been a single artist. But she chose to stay there with me.

It seemed that she was well-grounded, as a person, without any pretensions.
Oh yeah, she really was. That’s why we had no problems. We never had problems. She just wanted to be a singer. That’s all she wanted to do, sing. So she just stayed there with me (laughs). I just made sure that was all she had to do. It worked well for both of us.

Do you think it worked well partly because that also reflects your own attitude about music - that you have a natural attraction? I get the idea that your main idea is to get out there and play, with minimal distractions.
Yeah, I just want to play. But I have to run the band’s business, too. I’ve been doing that all through my career, so it doesn’t bother me much. I’ve booked, did the management, and produced the record, did everything. That didn’t bother me.

When I listen to your playing, there’s a real vocal quality to what you do. Is that a conscious goal for you as a musician? It’s like you’re singing.
Oh yeah, that’s just what I’m doing. On some of my records, I don’t even improvise. I just play the melody with a little embellishment in there, because some of the melodies are so great, you don’t have to do anything to them. I’ve always been careful with melody, making sure that melody is sure. And I want to make it singable and hummable. People have told me they can hear the lyric when I play some songs. That’s really what I care about.

Were you always that way, or did you go through a period when you were more of a jazzhead, into improvisation over melody?
Well, when I was a younger musician, I guess I was concerned more with improvisation, but always had an ear for that melody. Keeping that audience in mind has been a part of my presentation, as well. That has served me well. That’s where I’ve always gone. It doesn’t win you any polls, but it keeps you working (laughs).

Well, I think you’re starting to creep into the polls, and getting more respect these days.
Well, I don’t know (laughs). It doesn’t bother me. I was just making a funny comment.

I know. But I do think it’s about time that more people heard you.
Well, I always look at it like this: they hear me. I’m out there, everywhere. So they may not want accept it, but I’m out there. I’m playing somewhere every day, and have recorded with just about every singer and every organ player. So I feel great because my peers have accepted me. And my audience has accepted me. So it’s all fine.

I’ve see the impact you can have on an audience. At the Hampton Festival that night in February, you played a very direct, non-improvisational version of “Since I Fell for You” and got a standing ovation. It was a bit stunning to see that ovation in the middle of the tune. You obviously did something very right.
Oh yeah, I was stunned, too. I will never forget it. I was really stunned. Everybody backstage was saying `my God, what did you do?’

You worked some magic in that room.
It made me feel great that they would do that. It was really rewarding to be there, and see that they appreciated it that much. That was pretty neat, as they say.

I would say you have a great way with a ballad, for one thing.
I love ballads.

Does have more life experiences to draw on improve your ability to play a ballad, with some depth?
I guess it does factor in, but I’ve always played ballads, even when I first started out. Ballads are really very important, and people like them. When I was in college, these guys used to come up to me and say `you really play ballads well. I want to dance with my girl when you play that way.’ So I’ve always put ballads on my albums. Everybody is thinking fast, fast, fast, but I’m thinking fast, slow, fast, slow.
Everywhere I go, people always ask me to play the ballads. When I play with other musicians, if there’s a ballad feature, they want me to do it. I just know that people started taking note of it, and suddenly I kept hearing musicians saying `well, Houston, you’ve got the ballad.’ I do it, and I love playing them. Some of them I improvise on, and sometimes I don’t, because the melodies are so great when you slow them down and people can really hear them. It’s just great.
I slow them down and the young people really get a chance to hear them. When I do workshops, I always make the kids slow them down, to see if they really know the tunes… and they don’t. Guys said `I thought I knew that song.’ You’ve got to play these melodies first, and then get into improvisation, in a way that makes sense. I try to connect that way with kids.

Are you speaking about the importance of knowing the melodies, and also the lyrics, to know the song from the inside-out?
Yeah. You get every edge you can on your improvisation. Then you can relate to the song. I always remind them that all these great jazz people they admire were great melodic players - Rollins, Miles, Milt Jackson, Stan Getz. They were all great melody players. You can go back as far as you want to - Lester Young, Ben Webster, and Louis Armstrong. They’re all about melody, and melody.
Charlie Parker is a different story, isn’t he?
Yeah, but it’s still melody. What he did with the strings albums and the way he played melody in improvisations, those things are still played. Supersax really brought to life what he was doing. Melody. Melody.

Even, in his case, a lot of his melodies were rooted in his facile improvisational voice. “Donna Lee” was an improvised statement turned into a classic bebop tune.
Yeah. But he could play melodies. I remember first hearing him play “Don’t Blame Me.” That was great. And “Loverman.” Melody was always there.

Can you remember when music first entered your life? Was it always there in some way?
It was always there, always. We had a piano in the house. My mother played piano. My father was in the church choir. I was in the church choir, too, and listening to the Metropolitan Opera broadcast on Saturdays. I heard country & western music and gospel music. I heard blues on the jukebox. Music was always a big part of my life.

Where did jazz enter the picture?
Oh, it was always there. There was no division, so to speak, like there is now. I was from the South. The radio stations would play Count Basie, then the Dominoes and whoever. They didn’t have all that division.

Too bad it’s not like that now.
There was a station in Philadelphia back in the 60s, WHAT. I used to listen to them a lot. They’d play Temptations and then maybe the Modern Jazz Quartet. It was all over the place. It was great. If you had something good, they’d play it. There wasn’t any of that `well, this is jazz, this is R&B, this is whatever.’ So I liked that.

Were there tenor players you were you listening to, who really caught your ear and led you to that instrument?
Oh no, my parents bought me a saxophone for Christmas. That’s what got it started. But I used to listen to Illinois Jacquet a lot, and Lester Young, and the Jazz at the Philharmonic Recordings. But Illinois Jacquet and Arnett Cobb really caught my ear, all those RCA Victor, Decca and Apollo Records recordings. Lester Young was on Alladin, and I couldn’t get his records.
Then I got into Sonny Rollins later on, and those other guys. But basically, Illinois Jacquet was my first man, and Lester Young.

Is Ben Webster in there as an early influence?
No, not then. He came a little later.

Were you copping their licks, and learning that way?
No, I couldn’t (laughs). No, no. Another guy I listened to a lot was Stan Getz, along with Zoot Sims. Warne Marsh was another favorite of mine.

Warne Marsh is an underrated player, isn’t he?
Yeah, I’d say do. Ben Webster came later. A guy I used to listen to a lot, too, was Percy France, who worked with Bill Doggett. I used to listen to Tom Archie, who was an R&B player with Wynona Harris. Then there was Johnny Griffin with Joe Morris. They used to take all those solos on the R&B records. A lot of those players, and then there was Earl Bostick, who I use to listen to a lot. And I would listen to Charlie Parker, of course.
I think what has had a lot to do with some of my choices was that those are the people you could get in the South. They were widely distributed. But Illinois Jacquet was super popular then. This was in the late ‘40s and ‘50s.

Your playing is sometimes linked with Gene Ammons, in the sense of your having extending that style. Was he an influence on you?
Well, I guess so. I heard so many guys before I heard him, but you know, there’s definitely a connection with that style of playing - Lockjaw, and a lot of guys. I guess they all had an influence on me. And they all had a way with a ballad. With Gene Ammons, his most popular songs were ballads. Ben Webster, it was ballads. Prez - ballads. Illinois Jaquet - ballads. Those guys had a way with ballads.

But also a way with the blues, and that’s obviously one of your strong suits.
Oh yeah, definitely, with the blues and swing. They all did that, too.

You wound up playing with some notable musicians during your stint in the Army, in Germany. Was that kind of an educational musical experience?
Oh yeah, for me, it was. I played with Eddie Harris, Cedar Walton, Lanny Morgan. That was a very good training ground for me.

When did you land in New York? Was that right out of the Army?
Well, I went to Boston first. Then I went to New York in the early ‘70s. I moved to Newark, New Jersey, which is just across from New York.

Wayne Shorter’s hometown.
That’s right. Yep, a lot of music was happening there.

You did a lot of work with organists - with Johnny Hammond for a few years in the ‘60s, and other players. Is there something about that format that really suits you?
I just like it. I think it helped develop my sound. I know guitar players have said that, that working in that setting helps them. Organ has a swinging quality and the chords on the organ have a sustaining quality, and I like that. Maybe it also reminded me a bit of the church. All of that combined, and the swinging sound of a good organist, and I like it a lot.

Have you worked it that setting lately?
Yeah, I play with organists sometimes. Primarily, I work with pianists. But I work with Joey DeFrancesco, for instance. We’re going on a short tour this summer. Nice guy. He did his first albums with me. It was after he played with Miles and did his first album on Columbia, which was a big band album. I took him out with me and he did two albums with me, which were more open.

Was he a teenager at that point?
Yeah, he was pretty young.

But he’s an old soul…
Yeah, nice guy. Nice family. We’ve done a lot of things together.

You always had a knack for the soul-jazz style, which wasn’t always popular with the critics. Was it just a natural instinct for you to fall into that flavor of jazz?
I have my own feelings about that. There’s only one kind of jazz. That’s jazz that’s played soulfully. Critics seem to create these categories that I don’t know anything about. Miles was just as soulful as anybody. Milt Jackson, too, if you listen to some of those things he did. Come on. I don’t know where they get these categories from.
I think all it does is hurt the music. I still hear people calling me a blues player, a soul-jazz player. If you look at my last three albums, I don’t even play a blues. I don’t play blues, and still I’m called that (laughs). I’m doing things like “It Had to be You.” It‘s amusing, in a way. I wonder if they’ve even listened to the record.

That must be a bit frustrating for you.
Well, I just take it in stride. You can’t let things like that bother you, or it will eat you up. It’s just amazing that people can write something off that has a quality that I think good jazz should have. It should be soulful, be bluesy, swing and be danceable. Those are the qualities that they’re trying to throw out of this music, thereby throwing the people out of the music, and turning people away.
Back in the heyday, jazz was in all the ballrooms everywhere. People were just flocking to it. Guys were playing in a way you would call “soulful.” Take Lionel Hampton’s band: when they came to town, it was like a holiday. As soon as they take the dance away, take the swing out of it, you’ve just got to sit there looking like a mummy in a little cube. Then people run away in droves. Believe me, that’s what it is. That’s the reason.
The critics seem to want to go the elite way, make it into an elitist music. That’s what it will be, an elite music, to be play for people who don’t appreciate it, don’t know anything about it, but just figure they’re supposed to be there.

As you said before, you always have the audience in mind?
Yeah, the real people. (Unfortunately), the people who the music was meant for and who would enjoy it, can’t afford to see it. It’s not there for them. That’s what happens. That’s why we’re where we’re at.

Is that turning around at all, for the better?
Jazz will always be here. There will always be an audience. But the musicians just start getting a balance between their presentation and their audience, we’ll be alright. As for me, I just want to see people dance and having a good time with this music, the way it’s supposed to be. They should just be having genuine fun. That’s what I would like to see. Then the audiences will be back.

In a way, ironically, I’m hearing more stuff mixing jazz with R&B coming out again. You were ahead of your time, in a way, or were in on the first wave of that sound.
Yeah. When I started doing it, I was one of the first ones, but there were a lot of guys. Jack MacDuff was there, Ramsey Lewis had a lot of success with it. Herbie Hancock and Benny Golson were there…

Lee Morgan?
Yeah, Lee Morgan. See, you can still do that and be musical, find that balance. Bobby Timmons had his “Moanin’” and Cannonball had “Mercy, Mercy.” And you’re sure not going to challenge him on the bandstand. Dizzy Gillespie. The list goes on and on. The greatest one was Louis Armstrong. Who’s going to challenge that?
So we have models out there, already in place. We can see what has to be done. There’s nothing wrong with coaxing an audience and then doing your thing. Cannonball would just coax you with that “Mercy, Mercy,” and before you know it, he was blowing the roof down. Once you let the audience in, they’ll let you go wherever you want to go.
Jazz started with dance. You’ve got to play to your audiences.

And elements of dance and dance forms goes back centuries in classical music, to Bach and beyond.
That’s right.

So you’re saying that jazz shouldn’t lose the dance connection?
Oh no. The swing dancers are making sure of that. I just did a swing dance camp last week, which was very interesting. I was able to make the connection between jazz music and swing dance. We talked about Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and all those people. They love to dance. They called me to do it, because they read an article in which I talked about dance so much, they knew I was the right person.
We played a dance that night. It was really nice, really nice, because these kids came from all over the world. It was a swing jazz dance camp in Oakland, California. They realize the connection. There’s a swing dance organization here in New York, giving dances once a month, and they’re packed.

Well, most contemporary jazz clubs aren’t set up for dancing.
No, but they used to be. They’re trying to get the extra tables in to sell a few more drinks or something. And then some of them wind up not having anybody there, so you might as well let them dance. That’s that.

So that’s one of your missions?
Yeah. I’d just like to people have more fun, because this is a fun music. Sometimes, we have a tendency to get a little too serious with it. I don’t remember Lionel Hampton ever not having a good time. I don’t think Louis Armstrong ever hit the stage without having a good time. I don’t even remember Miles or Milt Jackson not having fun on the bandstand. And you heard it.

You mean that even if Miles, by his appearance, looked glum, he was having a good time?
Yeah. Miles was very serious about what he was doing, and also having a good time (laughs). With those rhythm sections he had, he couldn’t help but have a good time. And the audiences had a good time. It goes back to Fats Waller, too. That’s where I’m at, you know.

Thinking about the connection of soul and jazz, and new variations on that theme, Joshua Redman’s new group, The Elastic Band, is an organ group with modern touches. He’s definitely going in a soulful direction, with that group.
Well, he better. A lot of musicians go the way of the critics. You go that way for a good review and then you can wind up not getting any work. It still comes down to the audience. Promoters sometimes listen to critics just as much as musicians. They follow that. Again, you end up leading the people down the wrong path, and then the people desert you and say `wait a minute, what is this?’ That’s what we’ve got to do. Everybody’s got to get on the same page.
One radio guy was telling me `you know what’s wrong with jazz radio? They always pick the wrong tracks.’ But if you’re in commercial radio, you wouldn’t have that luxury. You’d have to pick the right track, or you lose your audience. We all need to get on the same page.

Going back to the mid-70s, you’ve had so many albums out on Muse and High Note, the next evolution of the label. Is that a happy home for you?
Yeah, it is. Joe and Barney Fields have been real good to me. They’ve left me free to do what I want to do. Can’t ask for more than that. I’ve been very fortunate. In my whole career, I’ve never been without a record deal. I guess that’s a milestone within itself.

That’s true. Especially in jazz…
Yeah. Prestige was very good to me - Bob Weinstock. He stuck with me through those years of getting established. He was very good to me. Then I went over to Mercury, where Robert McBride was very good to me. Everywhere I’ve been, people have treated me very well. I was on Eastbound Records with Armen Boladian. It has been a nice run for me.

Prestige came back via the Original Jazz Classics series, which resulted in your out of print work resurfacing. Was that satisfying to see them resurface?
Yeah, some of those albums were very good and they never got a chance to hear them, because I didn’t have as much exposure back then. There’s one I did with Pepper Adams and Curtis Fuller, called Blue Odyssey. That just resurfaced. A guy just asked me about it yesterday. He said it was one of his all-time favorite albums. It was a good album. So there is some good stuff resurfacing, which I am enjoying.

Do you remember much about the circumstances surrounding the album Goodness!, from 1969? That’s one of your better-known titles.
Boy, do I ever remember it. Yeah, that was a great album. That was good for me, especially in the Midwest. That kind of music really went over in that part of the country. It was very good for me. And that has resurfaced.

That album kicked your career up a notch or two, didn’t it?
That kicked me up a lot of notches.

Are there recording projects you’re itching to do in the future?
Yeah, I want to do all kinds of stuff. I want to do some big band things, and some swing. And I’ve been doing things with the Statesmen of Jazz. That’s a group of guys out of Florida, led by Mat Domber. They’ve been doing tours, and I’ve been on some of those, with Joe Wilder, Eddie Locke and those kind of people.
I also did a wonderful recording lately with Aaron Weinstein. He’s a young violinist from Illinois. This was with Bucky and John Pizzarelli, which was great, a lot of fun. That was on Arbors Records. I also got into a swing/jazz/dance thing, with Barbara Morrison, out in Minnesota, and that’s on the Dakota label. Those are a few things I’ve appeared on.
With my projects, I’m going to keep on doing things in that tradition and set up our models. I’m going to stay the course. Joey DeFrancesco and I will keep recording. I’ve got something coming in September. On that one, I’m going to look back at the blues a little bit. I’m delving into the blues. And I will prove the critics right (laughs).

You’ll have the last laugh?
No, I love those guys. We’re all a part of the jazz community - the critics, the musicians, the club owners, the promoters. We’re all one community. Sometimes, we’re not on the same page, but we’re still in the same community. That’s the way I look at it. So I don’t mean to be demeaning in any way. I will bow their way this time (laughs). The next time, I’ll go another way.

Generally, when I hear your playing, there is a comforting, solid feeling attached. You seem to know what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it, as a player. Does that reflect a kind of inner peace that you have?
Yep. That’s exactly what it is. I don’t want to do too much to impress, because it would probably come off phony. I’m just giving you what I got. And you just have to take it on its own terms. I’ll try to do it well, but that’s all I know. Up to that day, that’s it. Maybe in another year, I’ll extend it a little bit. Right now, that’s it. I’m going to try to do things as well as I can. It’ll be honest.