Clarence SEAY (Jazz Hot 607)
Team Player

The robust bassist may have crossed path with the likes of Pharoah Sanders, Tony Williams, Joe Henderson, Larry Willis, and above all Art Blakey, Lou Donaldson and Billy Harper, whom he has been playing with for 20 years, but he also represents a very special generation. He is to rank among the Charles Farmbrough, Bob Hurst, Lonnie Plaxico, Essiet Essiet (b), the Marsalis sons, Kenny Kirkland, Jeff Tain Watts, Geri Allen, Mulgrew Miller, Donald Brown, Kenny Garrett, Wallace et Antoine Roney, Donald Harrison, Terence Blanchard, Ralph Peterson Jr., and also a set of younger players like Carlos McKinney, Cyrus Chestnut, Sarah Morrow. He came about on the New York scene in the early 80’s, part of a generation with multiple aesthetic choices that have been constantly fostered by playing with the elders. With the elders disappearing gradually, these players who are still young but completely mature are the next link to the great jazz tradition. More than 20 years of playing have sharpened this expert musician who is keen on exploring and developing his own culture. Although he is called upon for every job where workmanship is demanded, it is his depth of approach that make him such a special accompanist.

An interview with Jean Szlamowicz


IClarence Seay : I was born in Washington D.C., January 7th 1957. I grew up there, I went to a fine arts high school, Duke Ellington School of Arts. I studied there with Mickey Bass. He was from New York but he would come down twice a week to teach. He got me started and put me in the right direction. I was already playing; I had followed a programme in classical music, scales, technique, theory and stuff like that. High school was when I got into the jazz thing. Another person who was very important to me at that time was Wallace Roney, he started the programme there during my last year. That’s when I met him, in 1975.

Jazz Hot : Was music part of the family life?
Not really. My parents were government workers, working for the NIH. Of course there was music on the radio all the time, gospel music. And my mother played piano a bit in church, my grandmother was a real churchgoer. I went to church, it was a Baptist church but I didn’t really get my musical education there. The community I was in was basically all black, middle to low-income people. But it was a good community - everybody was looking at each other, kids didn’t mess up because the neighbours were there to smack you in the ear. We knew everybody; we’d keep our doors open. There was no problem. I moved out of there around 1982; that’s when I moved to Richmond Virginia. I got married, to raise a family you’ve got to be there, but it was close enough to go to New York. There’s a good jazz scene there too, I’ve been working a lot there.

Who did you start out with when you became a professional?
The first one was Billy Harper, in 1982. That’s when I started travelling a lot. I played with Chico Freeman too, a little stunt with Wynton Marsalis - and a lot of side gigs! I like playing, so I would go whenever I get a call. I also started playing with Lou Donaldson around 1985, we were together about 5 or 6 years. I played with Art Blakey about a year at the time, when Wallace was playing, after Wynton left, maybe in 1981-2.

So you were immediately associated with such strong personalities…
Yeah, I was just hanging out in New York, early 80’s, trying to get on the scene, going to jam-sessions. Wallace introduced me to Branford and things led to another. With all these people, you learn how to play that music for one thing. A bit of business too. And they’ll tell you about the history.

With Billy Harper, do you work as a collective unit ?
No, he’s the leader, he has his style, but he gives us freedom too to open up and do what we like to do as a group. We’ve been together for twenty years now, when we play together, it’s a gel, we just hold together… It’s a very spiritual, strong, hard-swinging sort of music. You have to be ready for the challenge. That’s the style I love, I love playing strong records. I’ve been lucky I’ve been playing with a lot of strong drummers, like Cindy Blackman, Art Blakey… I love drummers! It’s all about listening to each other, when I know where the drummer’s coming from, we just try and blend in together. When you’ve been practising all your life, you see where his cymbal beat is, how he feels and you try and blend over that.

Looking back, what do you feel you’ve learnt?
You learn to adapt. Lou Donaldson is more beboppish, bluesy whereas Billy Harper is more of the strong style. When I play with him I try and be strong, I play rhythms, still 4/4 but more syncopated, going different directions, doing pedals and stuff like that - on the edge kind of thing.

What did you get from the Blakey school?
(Sighs) Oh, that was a hard gig!! I was so nervous! (laughs) You learn so much from Blakey, he swings so hard, you know, he makes you swing! He’s so powerful, so strong! He was into the dynamics of the music. He always wanted the music to go somewhere. He wanted you to play as a group, start somewhere, go somewhere, finish…

How do you account for his music being so personal without him composing or arranging?
(thinks) That’s a good question. (pausing again) Well, he did arrange the music; you’d bring a tune in and he’d make the tune his; he’d change the music and make it his own - in that respect I would consider him a composer.

Are you a leader yourself?
I have plans to do a recording of my own. It doesn’t matter that you play the bass if you want to be a leader. I never think of myself as being in the background, I always think of myself as being part of the group. First it’s important to be a sideman, to be a team player. And also, as a bass player, you can throw rhythms in there to set up different moves with the drummer. I always think in terms of the whole band. First and foremost, I try to connect with the drummer. Me and the drummer, we got to be together then try to mould the whole band together.

It’s not something that’s learnt from a school programme…
No, schools are important but I didn’t stay in college that long, most of my experience was on the road - learning how to play in the pocket with Art Blakey, learning how to throw some rhythms with Billy Harper… If you have the opportunity to play with the veteran musicians when you’re out of school, that’s where you’ll get into it. You get a lot of guys they get out of the school and they’ll be leaders - that’s a problem! Things change, you know… The records companies now they’re after young people, they’re letting the older musicians die off, in a way. They’re not recording, or playing that much. I can see that sense of community dying off too now. There’s no club where you can go to and hang out and stay up till six in the morning. Now everything now is about money, money, money! Those spots where you could find the older musicians hanging out too, talking trash. Now people are more business-like - three sets or two wets and you’re out…

Is jazz dead?
I don’t think jazz will ever die. There will always be a bunch of people playing this music. There are plenty of young talented players really pushing the music. You’ll still have underground groups who will keep the music going. Maybe it won’t even be commercialised but it will stay alive. I’ve never been in this music for profit, I’ve always been in this music for the art. I want to play music. I never really think about the frustrating things in this business.

How do you deal with the weight of history and the pressure of people labelling you as neo-bop or something?
Well, that’s the challenge right there. That’s what keeps you going - trying to find your own voice, opening up your own door. I don’t listen to what they all say, asking for something new. That’s the challenge. You should only play what’s in your heart, stay in your ground, do what you love doing. That’s why I’ve stuck with Billy Harper, he’s different.

Why jazz of all types of music?
It’s a strong music, it’s a challenging music. When you get to that inner spirit when you feel happy, that’s the goal to me, to try and go to that point where you’re playing so high you don’t even know where you are. Jazz is a tradition that’s been passed on by the elders. Once you’re started, you just can’t let it go - because there’s love. You can’t retire. Sometimes you think, “This is it, I’m not gonna do this no more, I’m gonna do something else” - but you can’t do it (smiles). Jazz is different - it’s a black music. You have a lot of African roots but it’s American music, it was created there. That’s something we talk about a lot with the elders. Back then you had a real strong community, with black stores, black schools. It’s still being passed on - there are still black churches, and so on. You know, the main element of jazz is always going to be the blues. The thing is, you try to keep the tradition going but at the same time it’s important that you try and get your own voice out of that tradition, you understand what I’m saying?

Who are your models?
All of them! Ray Brown, Paul Chambers, Ron Carter, Oscar Pettiford… You have to listen to the whole spectrum.

Contact: seayBass@aol.com

Discographie sélective
Sideman
1981. Wynton Marsalis, Wynton Marsalis, Columbia 468708
1981. God Rest Ye Merry Jazzmen, Columbia/ Sony 37551 (collectif)
1987. Cindy Blackman, Arcane, Muse 600609
1989. Billy Harper, Destiny Is Yours, Steeplechase 31260
1991. Jae Sinnett, Blue Jae, Valley Vue 22004/ i-Nett 9336
1992. Cindy Blackman, Telepathy, Muse 5437
1993. Wallace Roney, Misterios, Warner Bros. 245 641
1994. Jae Sinnett, House & Sinnett, Positive 78020-2
1995. Wallace Roney, Wallace Roney Quintet, Warner Bros. 45914
1997. Wallace Roney, Village, Warner Bros. 46649
1997. Jae Sinnett, Listen, Heart Music 20
1998. Billy Harper, If Our Hearts Could Only See, DIW 931
1999. Billy Harper, Soul of an Angel, Metropolitan 1120
2001. Francesca Tanksley, Journey, DreamCaller 7168
2001. Sarah Morrow, Standards And Other Stories, RDC-Cobra Bleu 640100 2

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Niels-Henning ØRSTED PEDERSEN
Swing from Denmark

Few musicians in jazz have recorded more at such a constantly high level of musicianship than Niels-Henning Ørsted-Pedersen. And yet the great Dane comes from such a different culture ! A lucid and serene musician who can boast a unique carreer, he told us about his cultural background. Just a tiny portion of his collaborations would feature names such as Kenny Drew, Bud Powell, Anthony Braxton, Chet Baker, Count Basie, Bill Evans, Sahib Shihab, Roy Eldridge, Dizzy Gillespie, Dexter Gordon, Niels Lan Doky, Ben Webster, Albert Ayler, Tete Montoliu, Monty Alexander, Sonny Rollins, Roland Kirk, Stephane Grappelli, Milt Jackson, Count Basie, Clark Terry, Palle Mikkelborg, Johnny Griffin, Oscar Peterson, Sam Jones, Billy Higgins… It would be difficult to imagine a more eclectic or more essential who’s who of jazz. being such a precocious young talent enabled him to meet musicians that he might otherwise have missed. These encounters have given him a philosophy of life inspired by self-knowledge and listening to other people. Perfectly at ease in a world at variance with his, he became a master of his instrument in a spectacular way and took advantage of a singular cultural and family background to build a personal approah to music. He became an inspiration for other bassists like Brian Torff or Mads Vinding. Speed and depth of sound, mellowness and precision make him instantly recognizable. With the notable exception of George Mraz, he is among the very few European plaayers to have gained such a reputation as a rhythm player. We met him last summer shortly before a concert with Oscar Peterson and found a calm person lacking neither humour or seriousness about his craft.

An interview with Jean Szlamowicz


NHOP : I was born 27th may 1946 in a small village called Osted in Denmark. My father was the principal master of a boarding school based on the Danish tradition of a philosopher and priest from the XIXth century. We lived in the school, it’s a very special upbringing, let’s put it that way. The whole principle of that kind of school is that you learn according to your abilities not according to what society demands of you. It’s a very open school. Maybe you can compare it a little to Rudolf Steiner.

Jazz Hot : Do you feel it shaped you in some ways?
Oh yes, in many ways. One peculiar idea of this philosopher was that you would sing a lot of songs. Denmark has a great tradition of songs reflecting the seasons and also evening, morning, etc. So everyday, the school started at eight o’clock singing and finished at night with a couple of songs, as well as songs for various events of the day. Music as part of everyday life was part of that system. The music was Danish songs, the only composer you would know in that genre is Carl Nielsen, a classical composer who wrote about a hundred melodies in that vein.

What other source for music was around?
My mother played organ for the church where my sister is now. And my older brothers - I’m the youngest of five - were heavily into jazz. So consequently I don’t remember not hearing jazz or classical music or that folk music. It’s been around me in all different kinds of ways from the start.

How did you pick up the bass?
To make a long story short, my mother decided that we should all take piano lessons when I was six. We didn’t really have to practice if didn’t feel like it but we had to go to that teacher, once a week in a close town and spend half an hour. I was out-competed by a friend of mine, piano player Ole Kock Hansen, who was to become the conductor of the Danish Radio Big Band. So my brothers who didn’t want our social life to be disturbed, decided they needed a bass player because they had already picked up trumpet, sax, etc. So I picked up the bass at the age of twelve and my parents let me have it on condition that I should take lessons - that’s very good advice if you want to play an instrument that’s so physically demanding if you don’t want to make too many mistakes. I made my first recording and was a professional player when I was 14. So as I was finishing school, eighth, ninth and tenth grade, I was playing three nights a week in a night club in Copenhagen. They appointed the piano player to be my guardian because I was really young..

Was there much of a jazz scene at the time?
It started out in the late fifties. Stan Getz got married to a Swedish woman and he like Copenhagen very much. There was a fairly rich guy who wanted to build a club on the model of what existed in France and in the States who opened up the Montmartre. Oscar Pettiford came to live in Copenhagen too at that time. But Stockholm started a little earlier and Copenhagen sort of copied Stockholm a bit. But then I was playing with the leading Danish jazz group in an other jazz club but the first Montmartre closed down for a little while. Then it was bought by the owner that made it famous, Herlufkamp Larsen. With the drummer, William Schiöpffe, and the pianist, Bent Axen, we went to the Montmartre and became the house rhythm section. This was in 1960 so when the Montmartre opened in 1962, that’s when Bud Powell came in Copenhagen, that’s when I played with him at the age of fifteen.

Were there other bass players or did they have no other choice but a teenager?
(Smiles) I’m not the right person to ask but I can tell you there were other bass players! Except they preferred me at the time…

How did you learn the bass?
I’m classically trained. The conservatory teacher I had for five years was the principal bass player for the Royal Philharmonic. Jazz was… as it came. My brothers kept playing those albums like “Sent for You Yesterday and Here you come Today” by Count Basie with Jimmy Rushing in 1939 with “Swingin’ the Blues”, “Jeep’s Blues” with Ellington, Art Tatum and “Tea for Two”, Errol Garner…

How come you were not attracted to develop a career in classical music?
I was and I am attracted to classical music. I don’t know what to call myself, really. I’m equally attracted to classical music, jazz, fusion, folk music… At some point, I could have made a classical career but that would have meant restricting myself. It would mean being in a symphonic orchestra, going to work, for rehearsal every morning… I never felt attracted to that kind of life. Probably because I came from the background I came from. Music is a very wide spectrum for me. Even when people talk about me as a jazz musician, I feel it’s a restriction because there are so many other things that interest me in music and I have recorded so many other things. Of course the focus will be on me working with Bud Powell or Oscar Peterson but nobody knows that I was also in fusion bands when I was 17, doing a lot of recordings with fender bass, that I have been playing in symphony orchestra, chamber music. Nobody knows about that outside Denmark.

Was going for the jazz life a break from your background?
No, no. I floated into life (laughs). When I read biographies saying “and then suddenly he decides to become a jazz musician”. I never did that, it just happened. I was still going to school when I had that offer from the Count Basie orchestra when I was 17. Basie heard me when I was working with Quincy Jones, with his European band. And my father, although he was a teacher, he took me out of school, he said I shouldn’t miss an opportunity like that. I was supposed to go to the States with Basie but we found out that because I was under age I couldn’t have a work permit. I more or less panicked, because I wanted to go to the university and study literature and history - maybe music. You don’t know much about anything when you’re 17 and when it comes to taking a decision. Some people do but I didn’t. It was good for me that my father told me to go ahead. I went back to school the following year to try to complete but then the Danish Radio Big Band started and I was playing full time at the Montmartre. So I stopped, I simply couldn’t carry on with my studies.

Who was around at the time in Copenhagen?
Sahib Shihab, Idrees Sulieman, Kenny Drew, Dexter Gordon, Stuff Smith, Ben Webster… they lived in Denmark, off an on but most of the time they would be in Denmark. And then Tootie Heath, who was living in Gottenburg came to live in Copenhagen for about a year, later on Ed Thigpen came, Horace Parlan, Duke Jordan… Lots of people! And even those who didn’t live there, like Don Byas, who was living in Holland, they would come to Copenhagen and we would be touring in the festivals.

Did you realise the exceptional character of what you were going through?
At the time maybe I didn’t, although I do now. I remember Vi Redd, the Hampton sax player, the first female saxophone player I’ve seen, she came with Rex Stewart. When I look back on that, everything was so different at the time. And that was one thing that I knew by instinct - that I was working with personalities. Some people say “I’m a bebop player” or “I’m a mainstream player”. That kind of thing never really entered my mind because when you hear Ben Webster play a ballad and you sit right behind him, you don’t think about whether he plays like Coltrane or in what school. You focus on him because, believe him, there’s a lot of awe and charisma about someone like that. And then when the next week you were working with Stuff Smith, the same thing happened! He was not the corny violinist that I heard some people say, he could swing like mad!! I know that some of my colleagues then and today, asked me why I played with people who were not hip. For whatever reason, maybe because of my upbringing, I never had blinkers, maybe it wasn’t hip but it was good.

You never thought in terms of free jazz, straight ahead, etc.…
I have never been able to be a member of a movement. When you hear Bud Powell, it convinces you. You don’t think of that, you think of what he is playing now. And that goes for most of these people. Of course there were some mediocre players, others who were just o.k. But when you play three months in one stretch, six nights a week with Dexter in the summertime, you knew you were playing with one of the giants. Sonny Rollins came over for three weeks at the Montmartre, you go in there every night thinking “Jesus Christ!”.

You’re probably the only European player who was able to get the best possible teaching of the time…
I would say so too. Yusef Lateef came over three months in a row. He would play oboe, strange meters 7/8, etc. but then at the end of the night he would pick up his tenor and play a blues. I still recall that. Freddie Hubbard came, Wayne Shorter came, Griffin came, every body came. I’m so grateful that I never thought to ask myself where do I belong, do I play swing, what kind of music do I play? No, I play with people. And that what I’ve done ever since. One night you can play with Ben Webster who will bring tears to your eyes and one night with Freddie Hubbard who will knock you out but it’s one and the same feeling to some extent, just done in a different way.

Were there problems initially due to your age?
Occasionally but don’t forget that very early Kenny Drew came in Copenhagen and Kenny and I were like this, very very close. Friends from the first day. So, with those who had an attitude, and since English wasn’t my first language I sometimes felt a bit of pressure. But Kenny would always be there to say to me “give the man a couple of nights, he comes straight from New York, he used to fight for his life, he doesn’t know it’s okay here.” And sure enough, that alliance between Kenny and I lasted till he died. If something got out of control, he would be there and in ten years of playing the Montmartre we had only maybe two or three artists that caused problems. The rest was perfect. Because when they realised we could play and that the owner, Herlufkamp Larsen, was ready to sell all his private property to pay salaries, that there was none of that American club-owner stuff where you would doubt ever getting your money, they did relax.

That’s why there were so many things going on…
Herlufkamp Larsen was just interested in music. He was the first to bring over Cecil Taylor, Albert Ayler, I played with him and recorded with him. I am again very happy that I didn’t refuse although I had probably played with Don Byas a week before. You get this fantastic opportunity to enter the music not on your own conditions - because your own conditions will always be limited - but through someone else. Don Cherry, Archie Shepp also came. I remember Archie suggested “Without a Song” and he said “we’ll play it up half-step every chorus”! When you think of it, you can’t even do it with a lot of musicians today! Since nobody had told us it was difficult or impossible, we just took it as a something we had to do and we did it! I’m not saying we sounded great but we did it, we didn’t question it. Albert Ayler wanted to play “Billie’s Bounce” and he didn’t play the line the way it’s supposed to be. I heard it recently and realised that in fact he counted on me to play the melody: he was leaning towards the melody. I didn’t ask any question about “please can we play the tune correctly”, I just followed because that was the way he went!

Did that attitude make you grow?
Definitely! Since Kenny was there it was never presented like “Can you play this shit or can’t you?”. I never had that. Kenny was a great piano player first, great human being and he had perfect pitch. I could always turn to him and he would never tell me “man, you’re supposed to know this shit!” He took away an awful lot of the pressure.

So that you had the musical challenge but not the personal pressure…
No, and don’t forget I went home every night. I never had to experience being alone in a hotel room in New York. Whenever all of this craziness went on - ‘cause there was a lot of craziness - I still had to go to school the next morning. So even when I was hanging out, I would have to go home and get some sleep and go to school, to a completely different world. And then go back to this other world at night - that’s a very good experience.

What made your relationship with Kenny Drew so special?
He was such a warm person. I won’t go into him being the best pianist of all time, because there is no such thing. He had that rare combination of playing the way he was, very soulful, very warm, very humorous. He was a brilliant technician.

He had his own style, with runs on the right hand…
Oh yeah. He was fantastic. At some point he had a success recording for the Japanese and we went on tour once a year in a Japan, that’s how he made a living. He sold more records than anybody else in Japan, they loved him!

Back to you at 18…
When I was 18 and I could get a work permit, the offer with Count Basie was repeated but there was too much going on in Copenhagen. I’m happy about it because I got to play and record with Basie later and I played with his big band once at a jam session in Munich - a fantastic experience! We did an album in Las Vegas, after he had his stroke, he couldn’t really play any more but his presence! People wonder how could he shape a big band, be the leading figure, well, you just had to be around him as a person for fifteen minutes to understand. He didn’t write the arrangements, he didn’t conduct as such, Marshall Royal was conducting. But he was there. Between him and Freddie Green, there’s a time thing shared by two people, it’s so heavy, that you realise oh oh, no funny shit now, this is where it’s at! But when I was 17 rather than go with Basie and play the same repertoire for 4-5 months, I got to experience many different players by staying in Copenhagen. Three weeks with Joe Henderson, three weeks with Phil Woods, and so on!

The thing is a lot of this music did get recorded!
Yeah it’s coming out right now, the archives of the Danish Radio are filled with music. They just put out another one we did with Ben Webster.

Did you think of playing as a leader or were you overwhelmed with your work as a sideman?
Everybody is a bit lazy and if you don’t have a lot of ambition and you find life interesting, then maybe what you’re just satisfied with it and I probably had it like that for many many years. It’s only as of the last 4 or 5 years, since I turned 50, that there are certain things I don’t do any more. I’m glad I did them when my ego wasn’t as big as it is today (laughs) because in those days I just enjoyed hearing different people. It’s interesting to play with different people, you pick up a lot when you play with someone. You don’t have to like all of it but you try and understand how he makes it work. Now that I mention Phil Woods, the resemblance with Ben Webster is something interesting, same with Chet Baker: it’s the sound that matters. For other players, it’s the chops that carry the music and there’s nothing wrong with that. And if you analyse each person you play with, you understand what makes their music function. How does he make it work? Like Count Basie - he’s a time-keeper like you wouldn’t believe. He can establish a groove that will make two thousand people jump in their seats with two notes! That’s what I find interesting in the music. Not whether they play in any particular style or whether they have chops or not, it’s the combination between the magic and the person.

Are there still people of that stature, in terms of strong characters?
No. I’m 57 and coming from someone of my age, it will probably sound like I’m lamenting on the old days. But that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that in the history and development of everything in society, even politicians, it’s more important how you look than what message you have to deliver. The same is true of actors and so on: the talk-show is where you sell the film or the party you are promoting. But they all look the same because it’s the image they have created. And unfortunately, the same is happening to music. A lot of people think in terms of “concept”, like “what concept should we make this next record from?”. Whereas, if you look back on he past, someone like Ben Webster probably didn’t know what the word “concept” meant, I’m sure, but he just played a certain way. And if you reflect, you can say what his concept was, but he didn’t start out with a concept in the first place to apply it to the music - he was just himself. The older I get, the more I see that. Some people realise that they need to have personality! It’s almost as if they are looking up in the dictionary what it means! They’ll take a course in personality and one in business, communication and styling!… (laughs and suddenly becomes very serious) The person I’m working with tonight, Oscar Peterson, has had a stroke. He is 77, he is in a wheelchair. Under normal circumstances you would say that he should retire. But when you see his eyes, you realise his willpower, his will to play. I was supposed to go on vacation tomorrow. I wasn’t supposed to play. But, for him… I wouldn’t let him down. You have to appreciate the people who want to play. He doesn’t have to, he wants to play, he wants to sit down and get this done.

That’s what an artist really is, someone who plays for a good reason…
Someone who puts life at risk every time he goes to the bandstand. Don’t forget the pressure he’s putting on himself. He could take off all of the pressure if he wanted to. He could retire, play a little bit at home - but no, the man puts pressure on himself.

Life was supposed to be more difficult in the seventies, how did you develop as an artist at that time?
I used to say that I played to live and not the opposite. When you’re married and have three children, there are certain things in your private life that have an impact. You can be an artist but they still have to go to school, have a place to live and so on. So you can be an artist in your own imagination but daily life is part of it too. And certain people would say, “you’re not a true artist”. Someone has been writing a book about me at home, so that’s why I know the subject a bit now. Some people live to play and I sort of toyed with the idea that I played to live. I never really lived to play as such because my family was equally important, because life is equally important. But me just staying at home also sounded false to me. So I took me a longer time than other people to realise that I lived and played. Once I have reached that status… again, I should have been on vacation, but it’s also important for me to be here today. I’m not saying this is going to be the best concert ever, I’m just saying I want to be around people who feel sincere about the music. Which means that bands who want to go for the “Italian mood” or “French mood” or “Spanish” or “Nordic” - Nordic is in at the moment! (smiles) You can never make me do that. I will be around people who want to play. Even at a time when they have lost some of their capability, now it’s the mind.

What makes someone swing for all those years?
Again, I live and play. When you play music it’s the same as trying to communicate, as we are doing now. In music, there’s a lot of things you can’t explain, that’s complete magic. But then you also have straight-ahead craftmanship. I’m famous for playing fast, but the point was not to play fast, it was about talking that language: if you want to communicate and you can’t say what you think there’s a problem! So I could see a practical use for having technique and playing fairly well in tune. But at the same time it is a language - to go on playing is to go on living. (pauses) I became a grandfather, a year-and-a-half ago and it changes your life because all of a sudden there’s someone experiencing everything again. I lived a lot of my life through them - you don’t realise that but they go to school, you get involved, you try and write a better essay than them! (laughs) There’s a little new guy who comes in and is interesting in music and there you go all over again. What would drive me out of music and what would make me lose interest in music, and that happens from time to time, inevitably, is if I had to play always the same thing. Again, it’s like being a member of a movement, it becomes formulaic, it’s like you’re delivering a show. The funny part is when you don’t really know what’s going on. With Oscar, we don’t know what we’re going to play. And I like it! (laughs) I like it better than when I know what we’re gonna play, it’s nice to be in the middle of nowhere, you can change things.

How did you build up your personal sound and style?
I didn’t work on a particular kind of sound but I paid particular attention to the persons that I played with. Like Chet Baker, you just need to hear a couple of notes and that’s his thing! He comes in with an awful lot. Playing with Ben was like that too. He would just construct the melody in such a way that his sound would fit. He didn’t have a lot of chops when he was older but he had the sound. What you use to express yourself is the sound. It’s like Oscar’s touch; his left hand is not what it used to be but his right hand is really something! Same with Keith Jarrett or Bill Evans. If you want to play something that means anything to you, you need to have a sound that you can stand. So I’ve been trying to shape a sound of my own.

Although you’ve played with a lot of people, is there a family of musicians that you feel more comfortable with?
I’m repeating myself - personalities. At the moment I’m playing a lot with Palle Mikkelborg. We play trio, him on synthesisers and his wife playing harp and some pre-recorded tapes. But it’s a personal understanding, we don’t have to use the same language - his language is much more electronic than mine. But I enjoy going into some body else’s world. I don’t have to understand it and analyse it. But I’m glad when some body takes my hand to lead me to a different world. I play a lot with Ole Kock Hansen. I also play a lot with Mulgrew Miller. That probably represents the future for me. Could be with Alvin Queen or in a duo. We just did a recording of Duke Ellington’s compositions. Mulgrew has he same thing that Kenny had. It’s the same things that’s happening with a twenty or thirty years delay. He’s brilliant, he listens, we never have to talk about what tune we’re going to play and how we’re going to treat it because it’s always going to be different. It’s a mutual thing and on a personal level, he’s got the same qualities that Kenny had.

What’s your music with your trio with Ulf Wakenius?
I’ll play some parts of Bach’s cello suite solo, some of my compositions, a little bit of folklore, a few standards. I use the same principle: they don’t know what I’m gonna play. And it’s not necessarily going to be jazz.

What are the essential elements of jazz?
The right to develop your own language.

Within the language of jazz?
Not necessarily. Drawing inspiration from Brazilian music, classical music, etc. The interesting thing is not to repeat the Jazz Messengers, like some bands do. Lee Morgan or Freddie Hubbard were great players but does that mean that we need to have the gut strings on the bass, old drum set and do he same thing? I have too much respect for the people who did that originally that I think you should leave it alone. It’s been done as well as it could be done. The inspiring thing is that what they came up with something that had to do with who they were. Go in there, find yourself! The record companies look at success from the past and try and recreate the recipes. That’s anti-jazz, you’re not supposed to recreate. You can’t have the Woody Herman orchestra today because he’s dead. You can’t have another Errol Garner , it’s gone.

Any form of contemporary music is now called jazz, how do you deal with that?
That’s a problem. I would say I’m trying to incorporate things from the outside into jazz; in that sense I’m a jazz player. Because the language I use is based on the blues and definitely based on swing. I try and use the beauty of Brazilian music, the laid-back feeling, as opposed to the aggressiveness of certain bebop things. I have nothing to be aggressive about, so it would be funny if I tried to be. And of course, I can’t run away from my heritage; there are lots of songs that I have to play because they’re obvious to me. Nor can I hide my love of classical music: Bach probably wrote the best solos ever played because they all make sense. You can become a victim and a hostage of the past in that you have to go back to the roots. Whose roots? Maybe you have to go back to your own roots. You can’t go back to Charlie Parker’s roots because they belong to him. You have to be you.

As a European, do you feel you come from a different history?
Oh yes. I was born in Denmark, a peaceful country, in the country, after World War II. How could I be aggressive? How could I be racial? I’ve never felt that pressure. That’s why I feel a lot of black American players have all the reasons to feel that way and be possibly aggressive because it’s true to their circumstances but it wouldn’t be true to my circumstances. So I would not be looking for my own roots, I would be trying to adopt someone else’s roots. First I can’t and then it would be very false. It’s like I have very mixed feelings about what they call “Nordic” jazz. What is “Nordic”? There was an Italian guy who said “Is that music that doesn’t swing and uses a lot of reverb?” That’s very close to the point! (laughs a lot). Once again, you can’t buy identity, you can’t buy a personality. If you try do to so, maybe you can put it together and it will last for a little while but sooner or later people will look through.

Jazz has produced a universal language that people have adopted to project their angers and joys…
It’s true for many things. If you think of Stravinski’s 9th Symphony about Leningrad. It’s supposed to express a certain anger. That’s what music is all about. If you can tell a story inside the music. The problem is when you’re trying to tell someone else’s story. If you feel aggressive, you can adopt that attitude. That doesn’t mean that everyone can adopt it.

There’s no good and bad art in a way: art is always a reflection of what you’re about…
That’s exactly what I’m trying to say all the time. If it doesn’t reflect you as a person, then you have a problem. The magic element is always what’s most difficult to describe. What makes Basie magic? Why is it so fascinating to play with Basie? Is it that plays a 16th note delayed? No - it’s because he’s Basie and he lets Basie come out. Oscar doesn’t sound like Basie, Tatum doesn’t sound like Oscar. Because they’re different, but you have the same feeling. The same is true in classical music. If you hear Vladimir Horowitz, the concert that he played when he came back at the Moscow conservatory. I saw it in Germany and I cried! There’s this old frail man, makes a lot of mistakes - but the expression! And I heard an interview with a journalist who was kind of eager to have him admit that he made mistakes. And he said, “Yes, but I’m Horowitz!”

Hawkins said “If you don’t fuck up it means you’re not trying!”
That’s true! If you walk up on the bandstand and you don’t want to communicate, there’s no sense in getting up there. You have to try and reach people and make your story clear. I’m just taking the consequences of that. That’s why I know I need technique, a good sound. But at the same time, I also know that if I have nothing to tell, nothing that tickles me, what’s the point? That’s why I need to play with different people, to get the same kick in a different way. If you’re working on a formula, with the help of a good stylist, you’re creating a product. If you take Diana Krall, they’re trying to recreate new copies of her who is already a copy of Nat Cole and tunes from another era! It’s really strange! In my experience it works just the other way round - it’s when people are concerned about what they play that the music works. There are lots of people who think they play like Oscar. I get a lot of calls saying “I know all the arrangements by Oscar”. Whenever they say that, I’m not coming - ‘cause I play with the real thing!! When he plays the sort of blues you heard at the sound check, you can’t hear that with anybody else. I’m sorry but that is him. That is why I’m here. that’s why we did a tour in Japan - it’s hard work, he’s in a wheelchair but whenever he goes to the band stand, he goes for broke. He plays mistakes, but he’s Oscar!