No Beethoven: An Autobiography & Chronicle of Weather Report

by Peter Erskine

  Alan Pasqua

  Formerly the head of Jazz Studies at USC’s Thornton School of Music. Our Fuzzy Music recording Standards earned us a Grammy nomination. Our trio with Dave Carpenter was a dream group. Bassist Darek Oles now plays with us, and our latest recording is The Interlochen Concert. Whenever we play together, it’s like we’re picking up a conversation in a dream and carrying it forward, guided in our starts and stops, silences and notes by an unseen hand. We’ve been doing it for so long, and it’s the most intense in-the-moment thing, and yet we’re hardly there at all. I hope that our duties in academia will only serve to bring more playing opportunities our way as time unfolds. Meanwhile, I’m grateful for every chance we get to play, and Alan proved to be really good at the university jazz department stuff. Making music with him is the most effortless process I’ve experienced. We complete each other’s thoughts without saying anything; that’s pretty cool.

  Alan’s a musical genius, no doubt about it. And we both feel blessed to have Darek Oles in the trio.

  Alex Acuña

  One of the great survivors of the Weather Report experience, Alex went on to become one of Hollywood’s busiest studio percussionists while maintaining a musical and personal relationship with Zawinul that lasted until Joe’s passing. Alex has always been my first call for percussion, and the drumming gifts he gave us all on Heavy Weather still rank as some of the best drumming ever recorded, in my opinion. The quintessential “Reporter,” I am proud to call him my musical brother and friend.

  Anne Hills

  Folk singer, composer, rights advocate, and conscience/awareness raiser, also my first love and girlfriend throughout high school and the beginning of college. We’ve remained friends over the years and always seem to get back in touch just when one of us is thinking about the other. One of the nicest and smartest people I’ve ever known. We collaborated on the recording October Child, her album of Michael Smith songs, with Vince Mendoza, Paul McCandless, Jimmy Johnson, Jim Cox, Bob Mann, and the legendary Carlos Vega on drums. Carlos’ time was incredible: We didn’t use a click track but he used a stopwatch to check the lengths of each measure during playback — never more than a couple hundreds of a second off. I was so knocked out by Vince’s writing and the band’s playing that I mixed Anne’s voice too low, an unforgivable sin for a record producer to commit. I am lucky that Anne is a very forgiving woman. Also glad that my wife has been such a good sport about Anne’s and my friendship and of our remaining in touch over the years. It’s the lucky man who gets to go back in time by being in the present with the people who matter the most to him.

  Bernhard Castiglioni

  Bernhard is the man behind drummerworld.com, THE place to go for photos, audio, video clips, and biographical reference materials relating to just about every drummer of note on the planet, past and present. My wife has always commented on how remarkably giving the drum community is, and no one gives more than Bernhard. His creed: “The DRUMMERWORLD project was created 15 years ago by Bernhard Castiglioni in Switzerland — that’s me. My intention is to spread the word and show the younger drummers and students the masters at work — from the beginnings to the present. I want to keep DRUMMERWORLD clean, fast, and free for all drummers and friends.” Add drummerworld.com to the list of notable Swiss contributions to the world — ahead of cheese and the cuckoo clock, somewhere just behind chocolate.

  Bernard “Pretty” Purdie

  A hero. The man should be the recipient of a Pulitzer Prize for all of the great work he has done, in my opinion. (Bassist Chuck Rainey would be my other choice.) If an album had Bernard’s name on it, I bought it. That was a lot of albums, and he plays great on all of them. In high school I really got into Purdie, who I still think is incredibly underrated. When I play his stuff for my students at USC, they’re like, “Holy crap,” amazed at the fatness of the groove. We’ve never collaborated on any project, but we’ve always enjoyed one another’s company and drumming, I’m proud to say. I hope and am pretty sure Bernard knows how much I respect him, I really think the world of his drumming, and I believe that his drumming has made the world a better place.

  Bill Platt

  One of the great American symphonic percussionists, Bill Platt just retired after being the principal percussionist in the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra for forty years. The circumstances of our meeting and subsequent friendship point to the dogged determination of destiny to connect the dots: Bill’s wife, Kazuko, is the sister of my wife’s translation colleague and pottery partner, Sachiko. One day, Sachiko happened to mention to Bill that her friend Mutsuko’s husband is a drummer, and Bill politely inquired, “Oh? And what’s his name?” Sachiko “cannot remember except it’s something like Peter,” and Bill said, “Peter? You don’t mean Peter Erskine, do you?” Sachiko got excited and exclaimed, “YES! That’s his name.” Well, a breakfast meeting was set up during Bill and Kazuko’s next visit to L.A., and Bill and I became like brothers in an instant. He revived my beat-up vintage Rogers Dyna-Sonic snare drum to its original luster and glory. (He collects and restores Rogers drums; he bought his first Dyna-Sonic on the same day and from the same music store as Steve Gadd when they were classmates at the Eastman School of Music.) Bill plays the snare drum in exactly the manner and way that I wish I could. His are the hands of a great musician. He is also an astute teacher. Now that he’s retired, I’m looking forward to our getting together more and more often.

  Bob Beals

  Bob Beals was many things: an innovator as well as historian, a dreamer who stayed pragmatic, a proud but humble man, impatient with things when they weren’t right, yet he always had all of the time in the world for a friend. He generously dispensed advice that was always on the mark. Bob was in the music business long enough to have seen it all, and I have many fond memories of his regaling me with story after story about this company or that person.

  Bob’s company, Evans Drumheads — which he owned and operated for many years before entrusting it to the dynamic and expert hands of the D’Addario family — pioneered many advancements in drumhead design, improvements that raised the bar for the entire percussion industry. I was fortunate to have met Bob when I was eighteen years old, shortly after my joining the Stan Kenton Orchestra. Since Evans was the drumhead of choice for Stan, it was natural that I would play Evans back then, and our association lasted ever since 1972. I posed for my first music industry ad with Bob behind the camera, holding a drumhead while seated poolside at some Kansas hotel. Before Slingerland or Zildijan, Bob Beals put me on the map.

  Bob Beals also put me on the path towards a truly successful music career, a career that necessitates our being able to wear a number of different hats in order to succeed and thrive. Bob came to a college gig where I was working as a guest clinician in order to show me a new thing he was working on (his CAD/CAM system for designing and manufacturing drumheads with computer precision and control). His enthusiasm for things technological as well as musical reminded me very strongly of my father, and I suspect that I invested some surrogate son-to-father affection towards Bob; he was like my father in the drum business. And, like a good father, he provided some excellent advice. Seeing how hard I was working by my having to fly all over the place to work —rehearsing, giving clinics and playing in concert — he said, “Peter, you have to learn to make money while you sleep.” He said this with his usual twinkle and bemused smile. And, with total thanks to Bob, I returned home with a determination to focus my future plans on creating a musical legacy where my work would not only remain for others to hear, but to create a library of writings, compositions, even musical products in cooperation with various manufacturers, in order to make money while I slept and ensure a gift to bestow to my children and their children. It had not occurred to me before Bob looked me in the eye in that university parking lot in Wichita and told me. I mention the story only because I think of that moment and of Bob often, always with gratitude and a smile — a bittersweet smile now that he is gone. I’d long
hoped that someone would sit down with Bob and record his stories before it was too late; I don’t know if that ever happened. I hope so. Bob Beals — watchmaker and repairman, drumhead company owner, inventor, tinkerer, technology explorer, entrepreneur, a man with so many gifts who always stayed humble and liked to keep things that way. Bob was and remains my music industry hero.

  Bob James

  I was thrilled to get to play with Bob during the Montreux Summit project in the summer of 1977 while I was a sideman on Maynard’s band. (Maynard had brought over some of his band to play the theme from Rocky with him and, as it turned out, CBS superstar drummer Billy Cobham didn’t want to play every number that long evening.) The tune was Wayne Shorter’s “Infant Eyes.” Bob and I would later cross Weather Report paths of a sort again when we played together in tribute to Jaco’s memory on the album titled Who Loves Ya? Back in the early ’80s Bob kindly invited me to record with him on a couple of occasions, one of them being the album Foxie with Will Lee on bass. I initiated an impromptu drum solo during the fade-out section of one tune (“Fireball”), and during the playback Bob remarked, “A drum solo?” and I innocently replied, “Yeah! Why not?” and he kept it in. I was still invested in making my presence known on any tune I recorded back then. I eventually got over that. In any event: Thanks, Bob! And now, during the final revising of this book’s text, I am enjoying the pleasure of working with Bob along with clarinetist Eddie Daniels and bassist James Genus. We’re all older and wiser now, and there’s still excitement to be had when different musical worlds collide and collaborate with one another. He’s an inspired musician.

  Bob Mintzer

  Bob and I have known each other since the fall of 1969 when we were both students at the Interlochen Arts Academy, and our musical association is the longest-lasting one for both of us. As of this writing, Bob is teaching at the USC Thornton School of Music where I’m also teaching. We’ve made 30 recordings together including several with his big band. The big band albums had state-of-the-art audio quality with a process that employed some pretty old-fashioned techniques, such as moving players’ positions around a microphone this way or that way by a few inches until the balance was just right. These recordings were also done direct-to-2-track so there’s no fixing; the concentration effort is substantial but the results are worth it.

  Once, while tracking, we get this terrific beginning going on a tune, and we’re bubbling along when all of a sudden there’s a honk from the sax section with arms raised and waving for the rest of us to stop. I missed whatever caused this detour, and I’m isolated from the band to some degree by the booth I’m in and the headphones I’m wearing. And so I keep asking no one in particular, but I’m heard by everyone, “What happened? Why did we stop? Why did we stop, I don’t get it, that was feeling really good, what happened?” and so on when an exasperated Lawrence Feldman finally offers, in an effort to get me to shut up, “A MISTAKE WAS MADE, OKAAAYYY?!” Bob’s big band writing is great, and his small group writing is, too. He is, simply, an excellent musician.

  Chuck Berghofer

  Chuck Berghofer is responsible for some of the most swinging bass playing ever, period. Relentless. He’s also the man responsible for the descending acoustic bass line on Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Are Made For Walking” hit single and the electric bass funk groove on the Barney Miller TV show theme song. And Chuck will quote one or both of those musical bellwether moments on just about every gig. I cherish our relationship both on and off the bandstand.

  Colin Schofield

  An ardent fan of music in general and Weather Report in particular, Colin was responsible for shepherding the Left Side Ride into reality during his tenure at Zildjian. He was also responsible for introducing me to more delicious curry dishes than I can count whilst performing his artist relations duties. He’s been a good and stalwart friend.

  Dave Weckl

  Guitarist Steve Khan invited me to join him at the Breckers’ club Seventh Avenue South to hear a band of young players who were based in Connecticut. The band (Nite Sprite) was okay, but the drummer (Dave Weckl) was great. Shortly afterwards, I was asked to do some more gigs with the band French Toast, which included French hornist Peter Gordon, pianist Michel Camilo, and bassist Anthony Jackson; I had worked one night with them in the club Mikell’s. But my schedule was such that I recommended a sub, and that was this young drummer who I’d heard only once but instinctively knew would be great. The rest is history, as Dave and Anthony hooked up immediately and went on to other big gigs, one after the other for Dave. By a lucky combination of his earliest influences — including the rigors of trying to play like Buddy Rich, i.e., technical discipline combined with the latest innovations coming from Steve Gadd, et al, along with his attention to detail (the man brought his own drum PA/sound system with him to the most casual of gigs in Manhattan) — and then being put in the pressure cooker of the high profile Chick Corea Akoustic and Elektric bands (I always hated that “k” spelling, by the way), Dave pushed the boundaries of what was thought possible on the drumset. He enjoyed great popularity, and he suffered an unwarranted amount of criticism due to jealousy in the drum community. There, I said it. I always felt that Dave was a lightning rod of sorts. He survived the insane popularity as well as jealousy to grow into a terrific guy and tremendous musician.

  David Benoit

  I played on his Waiting For Spring album, part of a series of GRP albums in the late 1980s and early ’90s that provided a lot of work for me and helped send the kids to a good school. I was and I remain grateful for those sessions that weren’t always up to the highest standards of Weather Report or ECM but represented a doorway to jazz for some — not that everybody dug it. Once while in New York I was walking down 7th Avenue minding my own business when I was recognized by some younger jazz musicians with saxophone gig bags strapped around their shoulders, etc. “Peter Erskine?” they inquired, and I smiled and said, “Yeah, hi ya fellas,” and was immediately accosted by one of them with a, “What the FUCK are you doin’ playing on a David Benoit record?” Shock. Smile. “Just payin’ the bills, boys,” and they were gone. That was a musical mugging of sorts.

  A writer asked me, “What do you attribute your chameleonic drumming abilities to?” I replied, “If anything, a sincere appreciation for most forms of music and the craft of making music. I admire diversity and believe that one experience informs the next.” THAT’S what I am doing on a David Benoit album.

  David is a nice man and popular musician. Waiting For Spring featured the late Emily Remler on guitar. John Patitucci and I also recorded with David, and I later did an album with David along with Mike Brecker and Christian McBride, produced by Tommy LiPuma. Former student Jamey Tate has been playing the drums for him the past few years. (Meanwhile, please see chapter “Whither Jazz Goest.”)

  Dave Black

  Dave is the co-author (with the late Sandy Feldstein) of the most successful drum book in print, Alfred’s Drum Method. He is now a vice president and editor-in-chief at Alfred Music, which happens to be my publishing home. His enthusiasm for all things musical is matched by his unerring sense of what most effectively teaches and what sells when it comes to instructional products. He’s been a dear friend for many years.

  David Carpenter

  (November 4, 1959 – June 24, 2008)

  The sum of a man’s life is difficult to measure and nearly impossible to describe in several hundred words. When a comrade-in-arms falls, one is summoned to characterize this person in part to help assuage the grief as well as to help make certain that his or her accomplishments will not fall ’tween the cracks and be forgotten. Dave left us so suddenly that we’re all still scrambling for words, not to mention how to fill the gaps in our musical worlds. Dave Carpenter was not the best-known bassist on the scene, ’though his name was always at the top of any musician list I would compile during the 10 years we worked together. And he left us music galore to remember him by.

  Dave left his home town
of Dayton, Ohio in 1983 to tour with the Buddy Rich band, and then worked with artists including Maynard Ferguson, Woody Herman, Mike Stern, Allan Holdsworth, Sadao Watanabe, Herbie Hancock, Al Jarreau, David Sanborn, Celine Dion, Michel Legrand, Barry Manilow, Toots Thielemans, Ringo Starr, Harvey Mason, Chick Corea, Brian Wilson, Boz Skaggs, Lalo Schifrin, Michael McDonald, Hubert Laws, and Clare Fischer. Dave and I first played together on a recording session for Venezuelan pianist Otmaro Ruiz. My immediate impression was of how comfortable everything felt. Dave knew any standard that would be mentioned as a possible song candidate at any gig, and he owned any style or genre of music or direction where a piece of music might go. He became an indispensable part of recording projects that I produced, and of two bands in particular: the piano trio that Alan Pasqua, Dave, and I shared, and the Lounge Art Ensemble, a horn trio with Bob Sheppard. While there were plenty of saxophone-bass-drum trios around, none of them enjoyed the luxury of the incredible 6-string electric bass chord comping that Dave could provide while at the same time taking care of business in the walking department. He played 4/4 like the best bass players, comped like a terrific keyboard or guitar player, and soloed like the hippest horn player. He was a one-in-a-million musician. Having worked so closely with another singularly gifted bassist for several years, I can say with total certainty that Jaco would have loved Dave Carpenter.