And so it was that, during a soundcheck, after Joe had made his umpteenth suggestion to me about how to play something, Jaco came over to the drumset and said, “Hey man, don’t THINK so much; just CONCENTRATE!” What does that mean? I understood it right away on several levels, but will boil it down to two meanings here: One, LISTEN to the music; don’t think about what or how to play, just LISTEN and then you’ll play what you want to hear; Two: rediscover the magic that music brought to you when you first began to pay attention to it and when you first began to play.
This turned out to be excellent advice. I was able to return to a natural state of musical energy and enthusiasm in the band. Plus, like any good advice, it would prove to have a timeless and universal quality to it; i.e., it qualified as a “truism.” I find myself quoting it nowadays to my students.
Jaco, giving advice to anyone about to listen to part of any new recording we made: "Fasten your safety belts."
Jaco said a LOT of things. Once, as I began to gain some weight, he cautioned me not to get on a trampoline and jump too high, lest someone come along and paint “Goodyear” on my side! Another time he was less humorous and more blunt; when I encountered Jaco in the airport just before we departed for the ill-fated tour of Japan with the Word of Mouth Big Band (where and when Jaco’s illness manifested itself beyond anything anyone had seen or expected), shocked by his crew-cut appearance with pieces of electrical tape on his face (to “hold my face together,” as he later explained to me) — I greeted him with a quiet, “Hi, Jaco,” and he replied, “Hiya, Fatso.”
Back to Joe and the weight thing: running into Zawinul a few years ago, I said, “Hey, Joe,” and he replied by poking his finger into my belly and asking, “What’s that?” I explained that Mutsy and I had joined a health club and that I was working with a trainer, doing a 45-minute workout routine, and so on. He looked at me and said, “Oh yeah? Since when: TOMORROW?”
Funny guy. And then he said, ‘Wayne and I are talking about putting the band back together for a tour, but I’m not going to call you. I’m going to call Paco because you play different now.” I could only say “Thanks,” because I did play differently by then, as I do now.
I started finding that the dynamic area I liked to work in was not always so loud. I simply didn’t like the way I played, and the way playing loud made me play. I also learned how to make musical choices that were not only best for the music but true to my own values. I finally found my own voice. A couple of times I’ve run into some players who felt that I wasn’t giving enough or I wasn’t listening. I’m listening incredibly intensively when I play; that’s all I’m doing, and I make the choice. “Yeah, I hear what you’re doing, it’s cool.” And I think it’s cool because I’m doing what I’m doing. I’m not going to comment on what they’re doing or play the obvious. The Wayne thing. It’s gotten to the point with more and more of my drumming that it has everything to do with space and less with playing. Kind of like anti-matter, only it’s anti-playing. Not suitable for all occasions, but when it’s right, man, it’s right!
56. Weather Report Drummers
The Percussive Arts Society holds its annual convention in autumn, with 1997’s musical festivities taking place in Columbus, Ohio. I took an early flight from Los Angeles to get there for the opening day, and what a flight! Other passengers included Louie Bellson, Emil Richards, and Ndugu Chancler. I quickly ran into more drumming legends and heroes when I arrived at the convention hotel: Ed Thigpen, Vic Firth, Arnie Lang (New York Philharmonic), Alan Abel (Philadelphia Orchestra), Bill Platt (Cincinnati Symphony), She-e Wu (marimba soloist), Dave Weckl, Omar Hakim, Chester Thompson, Billy Martin, and the man that would join me in a presentation to the PASIC audience at the close of the conference, fellow Weather Report alumnus Alex Acuña. Apologies for other legends whose names I have omitted; it seemed like everyone was there!
Two highlights were the Weather Report drummers panel, where Alex, Omar, Ndugu, Chester, Skip Hadden, and I discussed our work with the band, its recordings, etc. Rick Mattingly moderated this panel; the hour’s time went by too quickly. Hopefully, we’ll be able to have more reunions of this sort. The second highlight was the clinic that Alex and I gave on the final day of the conference. The ballroom was packed, and there was a positive sense of excitement in the air. This was more like an actual Weather Report gig than a clinic. We had prepared some play-along tracks — the antithesis of what Weather Report was about, admittedly, however… Since we wisely chose NOT to practice with these tracks beforehand, we were experiencing the music “live” and in the moment at the exact same time as the audience. Of course, getting to play this music with Alex is a drummer’s dream. And so, we took chances, we had a lot of fun, we made some great music and, I hope, some great memories for the people who were there.
Speaking of the other Weather Report drummers…
I take my hat off and bow in respect to all of the drumming brethren who have shared the chair in Weather Report with me. It was not an easy gig, but it sure was hip. Alphonse Mouzon started the ball rolling, and I thought he was the perfect fit for the band. But then, so was Eric Gravatt, probably the hippest drummer to have played with the band in my opinion; there was a quality to his playing that seemed to reach out to the cosmos. A lot of drummers contributed to the band’s growth, touring and recording in the years following Gravatt’s departure, including Herschel Dwellingham, Gregg Errico, Ishmail Wilburn, Skip Hadden, Darryl Brown, Ndugu Chancler, Chester Thompson, Alex Acuña, Steve Gadd, Tony Williams, and, following my tenure, Omar Hakim. Their combined recorded legacy forms a history of modern American music unlike most any other imaginable.
My favorite WR recordings? In addition to the first two albums (Weather Report and I Sing The Body Electric), I love Mysterious Traveler, Heavy Weather, and Sportin’ Life. My favorite composition is Zawinul’s opus “Unknown Soldier”; like the best of the music from the late ’60s and early ’70s, it speaks from one time to another, reaching backwards and forwards in musical and emotional space.
A salute to everyone who weathered the storm!
photo: Peter Erskine
57. Stormy Weather
Speaking of stormy weather — as “right” as everything was about the band and its successes during the years I toured with Weather Report, there was plenty of dysfunction to go around. One lamentable aspect of Joe and Jaco’s perfectionism in the studio was that every album took longer to complete than planned for, with the post-production overdubbing, editing, mixing, and artwork process lasting right up until that album’s release tour was set to take place. So we always seemed to be behind in terms of promoting the album. Worse, the band would begin an arduous tour often in the poorest of health, having come straight out of the confines of the studio with its attendant late hours, drinking, etc.
By the time we had finished work on Night Passage, Joe was absolutely exhausted, but this did not fit in with his self image of tough guy, hard drinker, and so on. He began this tour occasionally giddy, but more mean and short-tempered, to the point where all of us were walking on eggshells around the man. There was no pleasing him or curbing his nastiness. It speaks volumes about Jaco’s character as well as his relationship to Joe that Jaco had enough balls and sense of what’s right to assemble the band and crew following an early concert during this tour, somewhere in Norway as I recall. And there took place a remarkable scene: The entire Weather Report band and crew were standing in a large circle, with Joe and Jaco in the center, Jaco addressing Joe, pointing out his behavior and demanding that Joe stop it once and for all: “You’re RUDE, Joe. You’ve been acting like a rude motherfucker for a while now, and it’s got to stop.” We all stood wide-eyed and in silence. Finally, Joe said, “You’re right.” More silence. And then he continued, “And I would like to apologize to everyone here, right now.” It was time to put that in the past, and we continued to tour and play some of the best concerts I remember the band giving.
It seemed that Joe would try to
even out the score —out of earshot of Jaco — coming up to me and saying things like, “You know what? Jaco sounds like a trombone a lot of the time,” or, backstage, “Jaco’s solo lasts for another four minutes? I’ll see you in five minutes,” and he would disappear to the dressing room.
I don’t remember Wayne ever being or seeming mean-spirited.
Despite the competitiveness or edginess to much of the band’s humor, we all knew how to have a good time and enjoy each other’s company. We laughed a lot, we cheered each other on, and we looked out for one another. Joe came to Jaco’s rescue a few times to get him out of a jam, usually a result of something Jaco had said to someone. Jaco didn’t have much of an “edit” button. But that’s part of what made him so great. His impulsiveness is the stuff of legend. Once, immediately following a concert in Antibes, France, while the audience was still cheering, Jaco suggested we run onto the beach just behind the stage and into the Mediterranean — without our clothes on, of course. This seemed like a really cool idea, and I’ll never forget how much fun it was to come up from under the water and still hear the people cheering. Jaco loved the water as much as he liked doing crazy things, and sometimes the two likes were well-met fellows.
photo: Peter Erskine
58. Three Views
photo: Norman Seeff
What should the music be called?
Just for the record: Weather Report always rejected the word “fusion,” claiming the band played “modern American music” and “we don’t fuse nuthin’.”
Be that as it may, jazz-rock and fusion are handy terms; jazz-rock sounds a bit dated and faded, though, like an old pair of bell-bottomed pants. Maybe fusion is better, but I tend to picture Billy Cobham as soon as I hear the word.
How different was playing in Jaco’s Word of Mouth Big Band from Stan Kenton’s a decade earlier?
Jaco’s band contained many brilliant soloists. While Jaco was honoring the traditions of different bands, he was busy inventing his own large ensemble style. Stan’s band was largely dedicated to playing for young, aspiring musicians at schools, or older people at dances.
When the music morphed into “smooth jazz,” why didn't it die?
I don't think that the music that Miles played, that Weather Report played, et al, morphed into anything of the sort. The roots of “smooth jazz” come more from MUZAK than anything else — Percy Faith with an R&B beat. It is music that essentially aspires to nothing. Meanwhile, Weather Report’s music sounds as fresh as tomorrow.
The last time I saw Jaco…
Was at the Seventh Avenue South jazz club in New York City. He was holding his bass the same way I remembered when we first met: not drunk and not arrogantly angry at the world. He seemed subdued. In fact, he was on medication that was calming him down. And he told me, “You know, I burned so many bridges these last few years that I just decided to go ahead and burn every last one of them so I could simply start all over again.” Aside from the ubiquitous, “Hey, Man!” he would always offer, those were the last words I remember him saying to me.
The last time I saw Wayne…
Was backstage at Disney Hall; he and his quartet were about to play in concert with the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Mutsy and I met Wayne in his dressing room to say hello and wish him well. “Have fun!” right? Always self-conscious about giving fellow players their space, we leave somewhat quickly. As I look down the long passageway between the dressing room door and back where Wayne is seated, he leans into view and yells down the corridor: “Big BANDS!” and that’s been our last conversation to date.
photo: Peter Erskine
59. Two Deaths
photo: Peter Erskine
Jaco Pastorius and Joe Zawinul, the two baddest cats in the universe, are gone.
Only a few musicians of the highest order are recognized by their sound, and Jaco ranks at the top of that short list. And only a few icons, musical or otherwise, are known worldwide by their first name only; mention “Jaco” anywhere in the world and you are greeted with intense passion about the man, his music, and his legacy. There's no question that Jaco left us many years too soon. But his musical impact couldn’t have been stronger. Music was not the same after Jaco came on the scene. It was almost 25 years ago as I write this that his physical presence left us, murdered in Florida. We all miss Jaco, and can only begin to imagine what musical riches he would have brought to us during these last 20 plus years (and beyond). Yet his musical message remains as vibrant now as when we all first heard his magical tone and unearthly rhythmic prowess.
We used to tell a lot of jokes in Weather Report. Jaco was the best joke teller of all. Some of those jokes were about the kind of band that was in Heaven (or in Hell). I know that the band in Heaven has never sounded better than it’s sounding right now, and something tells me they're playing “Liberty City” or “Three Views of a Secret” as we celebrate and mourn and celebrate some more the gifts of our friend Jaco Pastorius.
“Birdland” is on the set list, too; you know it.
Josef Erich Zawinul was known simply as “Zawinul” to his many fans, “Joe” by those who knew him, and “Brother Joe” by those who loved and worked closely with the man. Joe Zawinul was uncompromising when it came to most everything in life, most especially when it came to music. “It’s all about the music,” he would say. And even though he held lively discussions about politics, history, food, literature, or sports, he never stopped thinking about his music. He demanded much from his colleagues as well as those he listened to. But he was also a kind and generous man — a teacher of the highest sort. During the years I spent working with Joe, he never failed to include a life lesson (that would always relate to music) to his bandmates He was our leader and our mentor. He was the “Mysterious Traveler,” and he never stopped touring or working. His musical vision kept growing all of his life, tempered only by the focus he brought to it. He followed his own path. Unlike most jazz stars in the twilight years of their careers, he never took part in joining up with others in some sort of an “all star” band. His band was always an all-star band as far as he was concerned, and he brought out the best in all of the musicians who were fortunate enough to play beside him. I am grateful for his music, and for his appetite when it came to life. I am grateful for the seriousness that he brought to the art and craft of creating music, and for his incredible humor. And I will always be grateful that I could call him “Brother Joe.”
60. Musical Salute
The best way to honor the memory of great musicians is to play their music. And what better way than to present Joe Zawinul’s music in the famed Concertgebouw concert hall in Amsterdam, with Vince Mendoza arranging and conducting the Metropole Orchestra along with former Zawinul colleagues Alex Acuña, Victor Bailey, Amit Chatterjee, and myself, plus keyboardist Jim Beard and lead trumpeter Derek Watkins? I’m happy to report that I cannot imagine a better or more successful program than what was enjoyed by the standing-room-only crowd.
Vince arranged the big band versions of Zawinul’s music that Alex, Victor, and I premiered a few years ago with Joe and the WDR Big Band (Nathaniel Townsley plays drums on the Brown Street album of that music, which came out recently). This Concertgebouw incarnation of Joe’s music, however, involved the Metropole Orkest, an incredibly talented group that is part jazz band and part symphony (with strings, woodwinds, and percussion). Vince did a lot of writing leading up to our meeting at the Metropole rehearsal facility in Hilversum. Alex and I flew direct from the NAMM Show in southern California, while Victor arrived from New York and Jim Beard from Helsinki. Vince was already working with the Orchestra by the time the rest of us got there.
Weather Report was an organic music, most often composed as it was being improvised (for what is improvisation but instant composition?). The first task with some of the songs, like “Nubian Sundance” and “Jungle Book,” was to find consensus on where beat “one” was! There was a lot of back and forth about this during the transcription process, including whi
ch meter should be chosen: 3/8? 3/4? 6/8? Was Joe thinking in 5/8 and then 2/4 when he came up with a particular part, or was that an edit on the album? I gave Vince my best advice on a good many of these questions earlier when I was on vacation in Japan. My colleagues in the Netherlands were not in total agreement with some of my metric suggestions, but we learned the tunes as they were notated (at this point there were too many musicians’ parts to change).
Amit Chatterjee of the Zawinul Syndicate band played some great guitar and sang in Hindusthani style as well as in Joe’s “Zawa-speak” mode. Keyboardist Jim Beard added his own take to the Zawinul sound and formed a perfect bridge between the two worlds of the present and past. It felt like home to be playing again with Victor and Alex. The members of the orchestra were all keen and alert participants. Most of the music played itself, but there was room for some discussion and discipline on how best to play this or that song in order to maintain the proper essence of the music: to honor the man by properly honoring the music. I truly feel that we connected to Joe’s spirit, and it was his spirit that connected all of us to one another.
We repeated the process the following year in a rousing afternoon performance at the North Sea Jazz Festival; highlights from both concerts have been assembled for Fast City, A Tribute to Joe Zawinul. This, for me, was a more successful revisiting of Joe’s music than a previous attempt in Studio 4 of the WestDeutscheRundfunk in Cologne, Germany. The WDR Big Band is one of the best big bands in the world and was my big band home for several years. Other drummers could also lay claim to that distinction, Mel Lewis having been the first prominent guest drummer to work regularly with the band (others including Jeff Hamilton, Adam Nussbaum, John Riley, and Dennis Mackrel). The first time I worked with the band was on a project with Kenny Wheeler, and I played with them many times afterwards in conjunction with Vince Mendoza. Since the band is made up of lifetime appointees, some of the old-timer players leaned towards a pensioner’s penchant for slacking and/or whining. And since the band had to fulfill its music duties for German TV as well as for the more idyllic and idealistic world of pure music, i.e., American jazz, I don't blame them for whining some of the time; only thing is, none of us Americans enjoyed their whining on our projects (and, half of the time, it was the expatriate Americans in the band who were doing a lot of the whining). All of that said, some of my favorite musicians in the world play in that band, including bassist John Goldsby, pianist Frank Chastenier, and lead trumpeter Andy Haderer, one of the finest lead players anywhere.
No Beethoven: An Autobiography & Chronicle of Weather Report Page 20
