No Beethoven: An Autobiography & Chronicle of Weather Report

by Peter Erskine

  Dave always WATCHED the drummer, something he learned to do while playing with Buddy Rich. It proved to be a wonderful way of playing in the rhythm section, especially in the piano trio when we would tackle really slow tempos. We could “open” up a bar by playing the next bar’s downbeat on the “phat” or late side, and Dave would always be right there.

  Dave was simply one of those bass players who made the drummer sound better, and made the whole band feel better. Dave Carpenter understood what it was to be a bass player. I penned a few words for a memorial tribute that was held in Dave’s memory; a “Who’s Who” of the L.A. jazz scene was there. “Dave Carpenter played with a lot of musicians. If you’re reading this, the chances are pretty good that he played with you. It’s safe to say that everyone in this room today felt that they could claim Dave as their own — a musical best friend. More than any other musician I’ve ever known, Dave had the knack and the ability to COMPLETE a band. He was a bassist’s bassist, a drummer’s most trusted ally, a singer or horn player’s dream, and a piano player’s best accomplice. The man knew more songs than anyone, it seemed, and he always chose the perfect note to play. His accomplishments on the acoustic and electric bass were of a singular nature. Dave Carpenter was truly great. Dave was also one of the sweetest human beings the world has known. Even when he got surly, losing patience at the idiocy of some dopey situation, his humor got the best of us. You could only love Dave Carpenter, and that’s why we’re all here today. Dave — we’ll always miss you.”

  Diana Krall

  Diana is one of the hardest-working people I’ve known in the business. While she’s enjoyed a tremendous amount of success, I can say from first-hand experience there’s no laziness or complacency on her part. She works hard. I get the impression that success has been a double-edged sword for her: success can bring fame and wealth, but it imposes a lot of limitations along the way. She tried to break away from her audience’s expectations by following her muse on the album The Girl in the Other Room, many of the songs co-composed with her husband, Elvis Costello. That’s where I figured in (I was not as resistant to playing straight eighth-note grooves as Jeff Hamilton was), and I enjoyed the touring up to a point; her hard-work ethic had us touring for longer than I cared for, and so I tendered my resignation, just around the time she started slipping back into her Oscar Peterson/Ray Brown trio-inspired roots. I admire that music but soon feel at a loss when playing it. And, as odd as this may sound, I began to hate staying in such fancy, high-priced hotels. This was before the great crash of 2008, but I could already sense that there was something mighty wrong with the economic state of things — people should not be able to afford staying in such high-priced digs, and despite the generous paycheck, I could not afford the extra charges for WiFi, bottled water, and room service in those places. When you make more money, you spend more money. I returned home from one leg of the Diana tour with an expensive case of wine, and my wife asked me, “What were you thinking?” Guess I wasn’t.

  Don Alias

  Don Alias had the baddest beat on the conga drums, period. Listen to the way he played with Elvin — and Jaco. Genius! One of the funnier and finer gentlemen of music anyone could know. Don is sorely missed by all who knew him.

  Don Grolnick

  The master of understatement, musically and otherwise. Don came to visit me in a New York hotel while I was still playing with Weather Report; I met him in the lobby, and he asked to come up to my room so he could use the phone. As we rode up, the elevator stopped at a floor, the doors opened, and Jaco came bursting into the elevator car, not acknowledging Don’s presence but merely demanding of me, “Have you been to Zawinul’s room yet? CHECK IT OUT!” Jaco punched his own chest for emphasis and ran back out of the elevator car, with Don able to chime in “Uh …nice talking to you” before the doors closed. Don did a great Jack Benny. His wonderfully expressive eyebrows also conveyed more musical information, pleasure, or displeasure than any conductor’s hands I’ve ever worked under. Don kept this drummer’s musical motives pure, and the man was worth his weight in gold on any project we ever did together. I really miss him.

  Ed Shaughnessy

  From a book blurb I recently penned for Ed: “Ed Shaughnessy represents more than just being the man behind the drums on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show for years and years. He’s also the man responsible for the drumming on some of the best jazz recordings to have come out of New York in the 1950s and ’60s. I grew up listening to Ed almost daily, and this was BEFORE I started to stay up late enough to watch the Tonight Show. Ed went on to become one of the pioneering drumset educators for Ludwig Drums, and he continues to dispense expert advice to drummers young and old — I learn something new from the man every time I hear him speak. Finally, Ed is the only drummer other than Louie Bellson to go toe-to-toe with Buddy RIch — on numerous occasions —and come out of the experience looking and sounding good! Additionally, Ed is a gracious man with an appetite to keep on learning and drumming, and we’re all the better for his being. On top of all of this: I’m a fan.” His playing on the Oliver Nelson albums from the ’60s is nothing less than brilliant and totally swinging. Ed was the first person in the music biz to send a baby gift to Mutsy and me when our daughter Maya was born.

  I recently received the following Blackberry message from Ed: “Peter...back after another great listening of you + Norrbotten Band...I am even more thrilled. I realize U have done many fine things...but WOW...that project has to be up there. Finest collaboration of drummer + big band in jazz history.....+ I know my stuff !! Thanks for kicks + inspiration , Ed Shaughnessy”

  And this from his just-released book, Lucky Drummer, an inscription: “To Peter — Not only a world-class artist — but a world-class person who brightens my life.” Ed’s book is terrific (Rebeats Publications). Very sorry to write that we lost Ed in 2013 shortly after his book was published.

  Fred Adams Erskine, Jr

  Known as “Adam” to his friends, Freddie and I share the same birthdate, seven years apart. We’re not in such close touch these days, much to my regret. I’m afraid he always resented the undue attention I got from Dad, due to my interest in jazz drumming. Dad had been a bass player in college, and jazz was his biggest passion in life. My brother Fred took up the accordion when he was a kid, and suffered the very bad fortune of being told by his teacher that he “would never make it.” That’s a terrible thing to say to anyone. Still, brother Fred showed a lot of support to me during my own formative years, and I’ll always be grateful for that.

  George Cables (Debbie Sabusawa)

  It was because of George that I got to work to work with Freddie Hubbard and make several recordings on the Contemporary label, including my first solo album. I also met my first real living-with-someone girlfriend as an adult, Deborah Sabusawa, who happened to be waitressing at the Lighthouse Jazz Club in Hermosa Beach on the night I played with George’s trio there. We flirted, she said goodnight, and as I watched her from the sidewalk in front of the club she turned around with an ebullient smile and blew me a kiss. Cupid’s arrow doth pierc’d my heart! I got her telephone number from the club manager, but when I called her the next day, a male voice answered, and when I asked if Debbie was there, he said, “No, she isn’t.” When I inquired if I could leave a message, this guy went, “Well, ya can try.” I thought that was it, but he just turned out to be her roommate’s wise-guy boyfriend. Anyway, I wooed and won her with a morning bouquet of fresh-squeezed orange juice, champagne, and some cashews and flowers — blame it on the Trader Joe’s. So, thanks to George, I met Debbie. And I got to play with one of the great jazz piano players. Zawinul always spoke highly of Cables, one of the few keyboard players he actually seemed to like.

  Gregory Itzin

  Famed actor, university friend of Jeff Ernstoff, and theatre colleague of mine as a result of Jack Fletcher and Andrew Robinson-directed plays over the years. Even though I’ve lived in Hollywood, figuratively speaking, for a number of years, I
don’t know that many actors outside of the theatre community there. However, some of the most-engaged actors and actresses constantly return to the stage, and so I’ve been fortunate to work and get to know some wonderful artists. Greg is always at the top of that list. I love listening to actors talk about their work process; it’s very informative as it can apply to music. Interestingly, most good actors I know really like jazz. A good number of the cast members from the hit television show 24 are Weather Report fans.

  Gordon Johnson

  Gordon is the primary reason I left college a 2nd time to go on the road: his bass playing was that good! We were best buddies on Maynard’s band, and getting to play with him night after night was the best preparation for playing with Jaco (who was a big fan of Gordon as well as his brother Jimmy). Gordon now lives and plays in Minneapolis.

  Jack DeJohnette

  One of the nicest living legends you’ll ever meet. Jack has been killing it on the drums ever since he first hit the scene as part of Charles Lloyd’s band or with Miles, and of course with Keith Jarrett’s trio. Jack is one of those endlessly creative drummers. Not always the most supportive, but in his assertiveness is always the invitation for the other musicians to step up to the plate.

  He is also a good guy. During the first day of recording John Scofield’s Blue Note album debut Time On My Hands (I produced those sessions), the Dolby noise reduction system went haywire. It was a Sunday, and we were basically looking at several lost hours. We were just about to pack it in for the entire day, but Jack kept everyone so enthralled and entertained by telling stories and keeping positive — and at one point giving everyone a master class on the history of jazz drumming styles — that by the time we got things working the band was in a really good mood to make some music — all thanks to Jack. The man has a lot of spirit, and it shows in his music.

  Jack Fletcher

  Life-long friend and theatre music mentor, our collaborations brought the gift of composing my way. Jack has turned out to be my compositional muse, and he is one of my biggest cheerleaders. Jack and his wife, Ellen, live in San Francisco, but we try to get together as often as the miles will allow. My favorite sentiment of his: “The universe is right on schedule.”

  Jeff Ernstoff

  It’s nice when the guy you think you dislike most in the world winds up becoming one of your closest friends. Thanks to the trusted word of Vince and Pamela Mendoza, I gave Jeff a second chance after our “Clash of the Titans” work experience when he was my Radio City Music Hall-producing boss for a 1994 World Cup Final Game Opening Ceremony gig. Vince and I were hired to put together a “Salute to the Drum” or “America Welcomes the World Through the International Language of the Drum!” extravaganza as part of the final game opening ceremony, and while Jeff saw it as his duty to put on a good show, I saw my duty as being to protect the integrity of whatever drumming culture was being represented on the pitch (playing field) of the Rose Bowl.

  The idea was to have each of the world’s continents represented by an appropriate percussive ensemble, so America = drumset, Latin America = congas and timbales, Asia = a Japanese taiko group, Europe = classical percussion, and Africa = well, Africa became an interesting case in point. I reached out to Alfred Ladzekpo, the co-director of the African Music and Dance Program at the California Institute of the Arts; he also chaired the World Music Program at Columbia University, where he taught drum and song seminars in African music and dance for three years, and is considered a Ghanian master drummer. Alfred put together a wonderful bit of music for the pre-record (Radio City saw fit to have Disney Lion King parade cast members do the on-field lip-synch or drum-mime performance).

  >Vince and I spent an evening and a good part of our budget recording this wonderful musical contribution by Alfred and his ensemble, only to be told by Jeff (after his initial “That’s it?” response the next morning) that it “wasn’t African-sounding enough,” to which I replied, “Hey, if you watched too many Tarzan movies as a kid, that’s YOUR problem,” after which the entire project descended into a sort of musical mud wrestling marathon. There are plenty of funny stories that go with this whole venture; suffice to say that Jeff and I made contact a few years afterwards and got to know each other outside of the boss/client paradigm, and I was able to discover how brilliantly funny, if acerbic, the man can be. Sound familiar?

  We now collaborate frequently at innovation conferences where I play the drums (and straight man) to his highly entertaining presentations.

  Jim Beard

  Fellow Hoosier (Indiana University alum) from a later decade, Jim is a tremendously talented pianist, synth player, composer, and producer. We worked together on the Skunk Funk project that won a Grammy a few years back, and more recently on the Metropole Orchestra’s tribute to Joe Zawinul. Jim also played on my Motion Poet album and took care of the myriad programming duties that recording required. In 1986 he was touring as part of John McLaughlin’s band that was opening a series of concerts with Joe Zawinul’s short-lived Weather Update. Jim had apparently been drinking after their show and during our set, so much so that when he came onto the Weather Update tour bus looking for Joe to compliment him, it came out as follows: “Joe Zawinul, FUCK YOU!” to which Joe smiled and responded, “Now let’s not get carried away.” His playing on the Zawinul tribute concerts is anything but an FU.

  Jimmy Cobb

  While I am interviewing Jimmy on drumchannel.com, I am astounded when he answers my question about what it feels like to be on the recording that’s included on every desert island album list — Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue — and he replies that he’s only recently realized that he’s “the only one left… I put that album on and I listen to it, and I really miss those guys.” The next time I got to ask him a question was in the lobby of the hotel in Cape Town, South Africa when I queried about the sights he had seen since arriving there. He answered, “I haven’t been outside my fucking hotel room the entire time I’ve been here.” Most recently I worked alongside him at the Hollywood Bowl for a phenomenal recasting of the Gil Evans/Miles Davis collaborations with Vince Mendoza conducting, Christian McBride on bass, Terence Blanchard and Nicholas Payton on trumpets, with Miles Evans and an all-star L.A. big band. When Jimmy played that cross-stick of his on beat “4” of “It Ain’t Necessarily So,” I started smiling so much that it almost hurt. One of the greatest concerts I’ve ever taken part in.

  Joe Farrell

  Funny cat and terrific player, a hard-boppin’ presence on the West Coast. I was a huge fan of his from the trio albums he made with Elvin Jones in the ’60s. We were playing a gig at Donte’s jazz club one night with a table of three loud and talkative patrons seated right in front of the bandstand: two men and a woman, all from Thailand, I think. These people are annoying us all night, but they become unbearable during a solo flute cadenza that Joe attempts to play at the end of a ballad. He’s finally had enough, so he just stops and stares at the three offenders; everyone else in the club is staring, too. Eventually the table realizes that the music has stopped and that everyone in the club is staring at them. In a moment of apparent panic, one of the men yells, “My Cherie Amour!” to the bandstand, followed by the woman chiming in with an almost frantic, “Earth, Wind and Fire!” plea. Silence. Joe speaks on mic, “This shit is driving me crazy.” The Thai people stand up, throw some money down on the table and leave. We finish the ballad.

  Joe Henderson

  I’ll resist the shorthand moniker “Joe Hen” that I often hear folks use. Joe Henderson was a remarkable musician and gentle man, though he always seemed to have a volcanic anger buried somewhere far below the surface. I got to work with Joe a few times: once on his album Relaxin’ at Camarillo (I was not relaxin’ playing that album, especially after Chick Corea asked me if he could sit down and try my drums upon our first meeting and he proceeded to play them much better than I knew I would be able to that day!); an all-star jazz festival in Japan (Aurex Jazz, 1980, a band lineup that consisted of Joe Hende
rson, Joe Farrell, Freddie Hubbard, Michael Brecker, Randy Brecker, George Duke, Robben Ford, Alphonso Johnson, and me); and the George Gruntz Concert Jazz Band.

  Joe uttered two highly memorable lines behind the East German “Iron Curtain” while on tour with the Gruntz aggregation: (1) I overheard Joe say this at a bar to a woman after our final concert in East Germany, “Why don’t you come up to my room so I can show you how the West was REALLY won?” and (2) the next day, after his failing to woo that woman upstairs, and now entering an East German border police trailer in the middle of the no-man’s-land barbed-wire maze that existed between East Berlin and Checkpoint Charlie, where all of us in the band had to turn over our passports to yet another East German soldier: “WOULD SOMEBODY TELL THESE MOTHERFUCKERS THAT WE AIN’T EAST GERMANS FOR SURE?”

  Joe Morello

  Most of us first met Joe Morello by way of Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five.” His effortless swing in the-then-unheard-of jazz time-signature of 5/4 was mesmerizing, and his melodic drum solo on the tune — a solo that owed much to traditions old and new but stood on its own as THE way to play musical drums — taught us all a thing or two about music and what was possible on the drumset. His overwhelming technique never overwhelmed the music. Brubeck’s album Time Out pointed the way to a future where music ruled the spheres, art was king, and jazz was hip. Swing was cool. Joe was the thinking man’s drummer, but he made the thinking man’s band swing. It’s simply impossible to imagine our world without his musical contributions. Thank you, Joe. I’ll think of that silver-sparkle Ludwig kit of yours every time I look up at the stars.