A sonic exploration and tonal analysis of contemporary creative music in a myriad of improvisational/composed settings, textures, and expressions.
Welcome to Sound Projections
I'm your host Kofi Natambu. This online magazine features the very best in contemporary creative music in this creative timezone NOW (the one we're living in) as well as that of the historical past. The purpose is to openly explore, examine, investigate, reflect on, studiously critique, and take opulent pleasure in the sonic and aural dimensions of human experience known and identified to us as MUSIC. I'm also interested in critically examining the wide range of ideas and opinions that govern our commodified notions of the production, consumption, marketing, and commercial exchange of organized sound(s) which largely define and thereby (over)determine our present relationships to music in the general political economy and culture.
Thus this magazine will strive to critically question and go beyond the conventional imposed notions
and categories of what constitutes the generic and stylistic definitions of ‘Jazz’, ‘classical music’, ‘Blues.’
'Rhythm and Blues’, ‘Rock and Roll’, ‘Pop’, ‘Funk’, ‘Hip Hop’, etc. in order to search for what individual
artists and ensembles do cretively to challenge and transform our ingrained ideas and attitudes of what
music is and could be.
So please join me in this ongoing visceral, investigative, and cerebral quest to explore, enjoy, and pay
homage to the endlessly creative and uniquely magisterial dimensions of MUSIC in all of its guises and expressive identities.
The late Jaki Byard
was, arguably, the most versatile pianist in jazz, though he also
played trombone and was an excellent tenor saxophonist. Born in 1922, he
grew up during the golden era, and while younger than Duke Ellington,
he embraced, as had his predecessor, all of the changes the music went
through, from its origins in New Orleans through the free improvisation
era. Byard
would, in a single solo concert, reveal his truly awesome mastery of
the aforementioned styles, as well as R&B, stride, swing, funk,
blues, honky tonk, and the extreme arpeggios of Art Tatum. But Byard's style was completely his own, developed from his early days playing with Earl Bostic in the late '40s and early '50s. After leaving Bostic, he played with Herb Pomeroy and Maynard Ferguson until he won a spot in the legendary Charles Mingus band of 1962-1964 along with Eric Dolphy. He also recorded with Dolphy and Booker Ervin, as well as Charlie Mariano and Rahsaan Roland Kirk. One of his notable achievements was as the pianist in the Mingus
band that tore apart concert halls all over Europe in 1964. Between
1961 and 1972, he issued a string of his own dates for Prestige (Hi-Fly, Here's Jaki, and Out Front! among them) and other labels; they embody his finest work, with a rhythm section that included Richard Davis and Alan Dawson, though he never made a bad record. Byard became an educator in the early '70s (after another collaboration with Mingus in 1970), teaching at Harvard, the Hartt School of Music, and the New
England Conservatory, and he recorded and performed intermittently the
world over until his death from a gunshot wound in 1999.
John Arthur “Jaki” Byard (pianist, multi-instrumentalist) was born on
June 15, 1922 in Worchester, Massachusetts and passed away on February
11, 1999 in New York City. Byard grew up in a musical family. His father had been a member of
marching bands around the turn of the century, playing both the trumpet
and the trombone. His mother was a piano player at the African Methodist
Episcopalian Zion Church. His grandmother played the piano at silent
picture shows, and set him on an early start on his way to a career in
music. As silent picture shows were replaced with the technological
advances of the “talkies,” or movies with their own sound, her job grew
obsolete, and she was able to bring the piano from the silent movie
house to their home. Byard began playing the piano around the age of
six, and when he turned eight, a piano teacher named Grace Johnson began
giving him lessons.His mother encouraged the boy’s interest in music, listening to jazz
music on the radio and, when she was able, providing him with
opportunities to go and see some of the great jazz musicians when they
were playing nearby. “My mother used to give me seventy-five cents to go
see the bands that were playing at Quinsigamond Lake—ten cents for the
streetcar each way, fifty cents to get into the dance, five cents for a
coke,” he told Royal Stokes in an article on Jazzhouse. org. “I
would walk to the dance so that I could drink five cokes. I’d stand in
front of the band all night and listen. Fats Waller, Lucky Millinder,
Chick Webb with Ella Fitzgerald, the Benny Goodman Quartet with Teddy
Wilson, Lionel Hampton, and Gene Krupa. That would be about 1936. And I
was tuning in on the radio broadcasts of the big bands from hotels,
11:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. Ellington, Basie, Fatha Hines, Jimmie Lunceford,
Benny Carter. Those were the things that inspired me.” By age 16, Byard had his first professional job as a musician. In
1941 he moved from Worcester to Boston in an attempt to further his
career. However, as the United States was entering into World War II,
Byard was drafted into the Army. Fortunately, he met other musicians,
including drummer Kenny Clarke and piano player Ernie Washington. He
decided to join the army band, but since the band already had a piano
player, Byard took up the trombone. He was discharged from the Army in 1945 and returned to Boston, where
he studied music on his own, particularly the styles of his two
favorite players, Bud Powell and Errol Garner. He quickly began to find
work in the Boston area. By the late 1940s, he had worked with tenor
saxophonist Sam Rivers in his band, and had worked with violinist and
trumpeter Ray Nance in society jobs. In 1949 he joined alto saxophonist
Earl Bostic in his band. His talents were in great demand, and he also
began teaching others, despite never having had formal training of his
own. In 1955 Byard joined trumpeter Herb Pomeroy’s band as a tenor
saxophone player. He also began composing and arranging music for the
group. After a few years, he returned to solo piano playing. He moved to
New York City and recorded his first solo album, Blues for Smoke,
in 1960. He also played in the band of trumpet player Maynard Ferguson
before finally joining up with jazz composer and bass player Charles
Mingus. Mingus had a great influence on Byard, constantly pushing him to
try new rhythms and harmonies. In 1960 Byard played on woodwind master Eric Dolphy’s recording, Outward Bound. Dolphy then assisted Byard in a relationship with Prestige Records that resulted in Byard’s release of Here’s Jaki in 1961. Then he recorded with Mingus on The Complete Town Hall Concert and Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, as well as The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady.
In 1963 he worked and recorded with Booker Irvin, a tenor saxophone
player. He also worked with other music greats, including Don Ellis,
Charlie Mariano, and Booker Little. In 1965 he connected with another multi-instrumentalist, Rahsaan Roland Kirk. In 1966 he won the Down Beat
Jazz Poll Award for most promising musician of that year. Byard joined
the faculty at the New England Conservatory in 1969, after an invitation
by its president, Gunther Schuller, to head up the school’s jazz
teaching. He taught there until 1977, while also teaching classes and
lecturing at other schools, including the Manhattan School of Music,
Bennington College, Hartford School of Music, Brooklyn Conservatory,
University of Massachusetts, Harvard University, University of
Pittsburgh, University of Maryland, and Bismark Jr. College. He was
asked by Mercer Ellington to sit in for his father, Duke Ellington, when
the Duke was ill. He received the Duke Ellington Fellowship Award from
Harvard University in 1973. In the mid-1970s, Byard decided to form a big band from a group of
his students. He named it the Apollo Stompers. At one point, he made up
two bands from his student groups, with each group sitting on opposite
sides of the stage. “I called it the Stereophonic Ensemble,” he joked to
Royal Stokes, “and the effect was very interesting because I could
bring that band down and this band up and you could hear the
difference—just like listening to a stereophonic performance. That was
one of my dreams.” He then decided to put together another band by the
same name with a group of musicians he knew in New York. In 1983 People stated, “As a solo pianist, Byard mixes his styles liberally, not only from song to song but often within songs.” In 1986 People again reviewed his work, this time evaluating Rhythm is Our Business,
which he recorded with Jordan Sandke. “Crossing generational and
stylistic lines with gleeful disregard, this album is an engaging bit of
chamber jazz,” the article stated. “The group wanders happily from New
Orleans style to swing to bop.” In 1995 Mayor Rudolph Giuliani presented
him with an award during the 100th anniversary of Harlem Week, for his
work with the Apollo Stompers.Byard’s influence on the music world was that of a true musician.
Throughout his lifetime he mastered the piano, trumpet, trombone, bass,
vibes, drums, and saxophone. He was a lifelong student who continued to
learn about music, even while he taught others.Byard’s wife, Louise, had passed away previously in 1994, but he left
behind three children, Denise, Diane, and Gerald, as well as four
grandsons and six great grandsons.
A musician that has spanned the generations
of Jazz is Jaki Byard. Jaki Byard was born John Arthur Byard, Jr. on
June 15, 1922 in Worcester, Massachusetts. His father was a member of
the marching hands at the turn of the 20th century and played the
trombone. His mother played the piano for the African Methodist
Episcopalian Zion Church (AME). His maternal grandmother played the
piano for the silent picture shows (visual movies without sound before
“talking movies” were invented). It was on that piano that Jaki began
his musical odyssey. When he was 8 years old, he started taking piano
lessons from a piano teacher named Grace Johnson. The swing rhythm of
the time and the lure of the big bands inspired Jaki throughout most of
his career. At the age of 16, he played his first professional
engagement. During WW II, Jaki was drafted into the army, but with luck
and circumstance, he was able to join the army along with Earl Bostic,
with whom he would later form a musical alliance with. By the time
he was in his late-thirties, Jaki had a recording contract with
Prestige records who engaged him in many recording sessions which
allowed him the freedom to have his own compositions heard. It was also
around this time that he performed with Charles Mingus as part of an
ensemble that featured among its players many fabulous musicians: Eric
Dolphy, Jack De Johnette, Johnny Coles and Bobby Jones, who toured
Europe and made some great sounds and history. During the 1960's, he saw
great success, and all of his albums received mostly 3-4 star ratings
in DownBeat magazine. In 1966, he won the Down Beat Jazz Poll Award for
most promising musician of that year. In 1979, his 21-piece big band,
The Apollo Stompers was voted the Best House Band in New York City while
playing at Ali's Alley, a club in downtown New York. On his own, Jaki
was to win numerous awards and citations for his music and contributions
to teaching and dance from many major academic institutions. He always
felt “academia” as he put it was very important. A most cherished and
proud moment for Jaki was when he was asked by Duke Ellington's son
Mercer to sit in for Duke as part of his orchestra while the Duke was
ill.
He was presented with an award by the Duke Ellington
Society for his performances. In February of 1988, he was also presented
with an award from the Mayor for Outstanding Contribution in Black
Music and Presence in Boston (the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Award). He
has the key to Worcester, New Orleans, and many peoples hearts. In 1995,
a year after the death of his beloved wife, Louise (my mother), he was
presented with an award by then Mayor Rudolph Guliani for his work with
the Apollo Stompers in recognition of Harlem Week and its 100th
anniversary. And while Jaki won many awards, the most cherished for him
was the honor he gave to himself and others when he could write a tune
for someone he loved or for a passing whimsy or idea that would send him
to the piano with a pencil and composition paper, and it was this love
that he did transmit through all of his performances dosed with his
outstanding wit and humor. The sixties and seventies saw a
moderate amount of success on the entertainment level. Jaki turned back
to teaching and academia in the late mid 1970s, 80's and 90's with
occasional recordings in between. In the early 1970's he accepted a
position at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston,
Massachusetts where he would stay for over a decade teaching both in the
curriculum and privately. Some of the other schools that he taught at
were The Hartt School of Music, Northeastern University, Bismark State
College, Alma Lewis School of Fine Arts in Boston, The New School in New
York City, The Brooklyn Conservatory of Music in Flushing, and lastly
The Manhattan School of Music in New York City. He also never had enough
time for his parcel of private students who would gladly, trek out to
his home in Hollis, Queens for their one on one lessons. Around
1979-1982 Jaki, along with some other local musicians (among them,
percussionist/composer/friend! JR Mitchell, bassist Peck Morrison,
vibraphone keyboard player Dwight Gassoway, saxophone player Harold
Ousley and bassist Larry Ridley) formed an organization called the
Unification of Concerned Artists in the hopes of creating more
recognition and engagements for New York-based musicians whose gigs were
just too far and few between. As with most endeavors of this sort,
things panned out well for a while, but somehow survival happens and
time had to be spent on that. I used to transcribe the minutes at the
monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees, and in retrospect I can say
that we really did try to create some openings. I think that if more
time could have been devoted to his effort, it, too would have
succeeded. Jaki's career that spanned over six decades was still
going strong. He was still recording and still arranging, composing and
teaching. In February of 1999, he was invited to conduct a seminar and
play at the Berkley School of Music in Boston, Massachusetts. He never
did make it to that engagement. However you define success, for Jaki
Byard, being able to play his music for the joy, the creativity, the fun
and the teaching of it was all that really mattered to him. Jaki
Byard died (tragically) on February 11, 1999. He was 76 years young and
still had much to offer the music and artistic community.
Written by Diane Jamila Byard and Prof. JR Mitchell
A
musician that has spanned the generations of Jazz is Jaki Byard. Jaki
Byard was born John Arthur Byard, Jr. on June 15, 1922 in Worcester,
Massachusetts. His father was a member of the marching hands at the turn
of the 20th century and played the trombone. His mother played the
piano for the African Methodist Episcopalian Zion Church (AME). His
maternal grandmother played the piano for the silent picture shows
(visual movies without sound before "talking movies" were invented). It
was on that piano that Jaki began his musical odyssey. When he was 8
years old, he started taking piano lessons from a piano teacher named
Grace Johnson. The swing rhythm of the time and the lure of the big
bands inspired Jaki throughout most of his career.
At the age of 16, he played his first professional engagement. During
WW II, Jaki was drafted into the army, but with luck and circumstance,
he was able to join the army along with Earl Bostic, with whom he would
later form a musical alliance with.
By the time he was in his late-thirties, Jaki had a recording
contract with Prestige records who engaged him in many recording
sessions which allowed him the freedom to have his own compositions
heard. It was also around this time that he performed with Charles
Mingus as part of an ensemble that featured among its players many
fabulous musicians: Eric Dolphy, Jack De Johnette, Johnny Coles and
Bobby Jones, who toured Europe and made some great sounds and history.
During the 1960's, he saw great success, and all of his albums received
mostly 3-4 star ratings in DownBeat magazine. In 1966, he won the Down
Beat Jazz Poll Award for most promising musician of that year. In 1979,
his 21-piece big band, The Apollo Stompers was voted the Best House Band
in New York City while playing at Ali's Alley, a club in downtown New
York. On his own, Jaki was to win numerous awards and citations for his
music and contributions to teaching and dance from many major academic
institutions. He always felt "academia" as he put it was very important.
A most cherished and proud moment for Jaki was when he was asked by
Duke Ellington's son Mercer to sit in for Duke as part of his orchestra
while the Duke was ill.
He was presented with an award by the Duke Ellington Society for his
performances. In February of 1988, he was also presented with an award
from the Mayor for Outstanding Contribution in Black Music and Presence
in Boston (the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Award). He has the key to
Worcester, New Orleans, and many peoples hearts. In 1995, a year after
the death of his beloved wife, Louise (my mother), he was presented with
an award by then Mayor Rudolph Guliani for his work with the Apollo
Stompers in recognition of Harlem Week and its 100th anniversary. And
while Jaki won many awards, the most cherished for him was the honor he
gave to himself and others when he could write a tune for someone he
loved or for a passing whimsy or idea that would send him to the piano
with a pencil and composition paper, and it was this love that he did
transmit through all of his performances dosed with his outstanding wit
and humor.
The sixties and seventies saw a moderate amount of success on the
entertainment level. Jaki turned back to teaching and academia in the
late mid 1970s, 80's and 90's with occasional recordings in between. In
the early 1970's he accepted a position at the New England Conservatory
of Music in Boston, Massachusetts where he would stay for over a decade
teaching both in the curriculum and privately. Some of the other schools
that he taught at were The Hartt School of Music, Northeastern
University, Bismark State College, Alma Lewis School of Fine Arts in
Boston, The New School in New York City, The Brooklyn Conservatory of
Music in Flushing, and lastly The Manhattan School of Music in New York
City. He also never had enough time for his parcel of private students
who would gladly, trek out to his home in Hollis, Queens for their one
on one lessons.
Around 1979-1982 Jaki, along with some other local musicians (among
them, percussionist/composer/friend! JR Mitchell, bassist Peck Morrison,
vibraphone keyboard player Dwight Gassoway, saxophone player Harold
Ousley and bassist Larry Ridley) formed an organization called the
Unification of Concerned Artists in the hopes of creating more
recognition and engagements for New York-based musicians whose gigs were
just too far and few between. As with most endeavors of this sort,
things panned out well for a while, but somehow survival happens and
time had to be spent on that. I used to transcribe the minutes at the
monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees, and in retrospect I can say
that we really did try to create some openings. I think that if more
time could have been devoted to his effort, it, too would have
succeeded.
Jaki's career that spanned over six decades was still going strong.
He was still recording and still arranging, composing and teaching. In
February of 1999, he was invited to conduct a seminar and play at the
Berkley School of Music in Boston, Massachusetts. He never did make it
to that engagement. However you define success, for Jaki Byard, being
able to play his music for the joy, the creativity, the fun and the
teaching of it was all that really mattered to him.
Jaki Byard died (tragically) on February 11, 1999. He was 76 years
young and still had much to offer the music and artistic community. And
while his death was a tragedy, his life was full of dreams coming true,
wonderful times and lasting relationships. Five years later, as his only
surviving daughter, I only wish that he could have had his last wish
which was to buy a boat. Not a big wish to have. I would like to think
that maybe he did buy that boat and that maybe our dreams do not die
with us, and that maybe he's just sailing right through heaven now,
listening to the music he admired, gigging with his departed fellow
musicians and enjoying the high seas of heaven as only he could. There
isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him. Everytime I do
though, it is mostly with a gladness that I can't explain. I guess
because he was a happy, humorous individual, a joyous upbeat person and
perhaps the most positive person I have ever known and whose
inspirations, love and kindness will live in my heart forever.
--Diane Byard
In memory of Jaki Byard: family man, musician, composer, teacher, and friend.
Jaki Byard, a Jazz Musician And Teacher, Is Dead at 76
by Peter Watrous
Jaki Byard, a
pianist, saxophonist and teacher who recorded with some of jazz's most
important figures, died on Thursday in his house in Hollis, Queens. He
was 76.
Police are investigating the
death of Mr. Byard, who was found shot in the home he shared with his
two daughters. Denise Byard-Mitchell, one of his daughters, said the
family was baffled by the killing, and that she and other family members
had been home when Mr. Byard died and had heard nothing.
Mr.
Byard was an extremely important figure in modern jazz for several
reasons. In his playing he spanned the history of jazz, and his
improvisations, filled with quick stylistic changes, moved from
boogie-woogie to free jazz. He was a stylistic virtuoso, his fecund
imagination saw comparisons and contrasts everywhere, and his
improvisations were encyclopedic and profound. He also had a sense of
humor that rippled through everything he played.
''I
played Bud Powell solos, and that was a phase,'' Mr. Byard once said in
an interview with one of his students, the saxophonist Marty Ehrlich.
''Then there was Garner, and that was a phase, and then Tatum, and then
finally I decided to put everything together and say the hell with it,
this is it.''
It made him the
perfect accompanist for two of the more well versed musicians of modern
jazz, Charles Mingus and Rahasaan Roland Kirk, and Mr. Byard was one of
the few jazz pianists capable of keeping up not just with their
stylistic references, but also with their humor and volcanic intensity.
Mr.
Byard also taught for several decades and brought his
cross-generational sensibility to his students. The re-evaluation of
jazz history that began in the late 1970's and early 1980's was partly
due to Mr. Byard's encouragement and example.
Mr.
Byard was, early in his career, an integral part of a little-known jazz
scene in Boston. During the late 1940's he worked with the tenor
saxophonist Sam Rivers in a band, and worked society jobs, sometimes
with the violinist and trumpeter Ray Nance.
He
then took a job with the alto saxophonist Earl Bostic in 1949, and when
he returned to Boston he performed as a solo pianist, and later joined
the big band led by Herb Pomeroy, one of Boston's most important bands.
In
1959 he joined Maynard Ferguson's orchestra for two years. Also that
year he met the saxophonist Eric Dolphy, and recorded with him on the
album ''Outward Bound.''
In
1961 Dolphy procured Mr. Byard's first recording date for Prestige
records, producing ''Here's Jaki,'' which featured the Boston-based
drummer Roy Haynes. Mr. Byard also worked with the innovative trumpeter
Don Ellis. For the rest of the 60's Mr. Byard became the pianist of
choice for one of jazz's many vanguards.
In
the early 1960's he started recording with Mingus, and his playing can
be heard on ''The Complete Town Hall Concert,'' from 1962, and the two
classic albums Mingus recorded for Impulse, ''Mingus Mingus Mingus
Mingus Mingus'' and ''The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady.''
In
1963 he recorded and worked with the tenor saxophonist Booker Irvin,
another Mingus associate, and with Charlie Mariano. Two years later he
began an association with Kirk, recording and performing with the
saxophonist.
During this time Mr.
Byard began teaching at the New England Conservatory of Music, where he
became an important figure in jazz education. He recorded regularly
until his death, and when Duke Ellington became ill at the end of his
life, filled the piano chair in the Ellington Orchestra. In the late
1970's Mr. Byard led the Apollo Stompers big band in Boston and New
York, and he continued teaching at the New England Conservatory and at
the Manhattan School of Music, along with stints at Bennington College,
the Hartford School of Music, the Brooklyn Conservatory, the University
of Massachusetts and others.
In
addition to Ms. Byard-Mitchell, he is survived by another daughter,
Diane, and a son, Gerald, all of Hollis, Queens, four grandsons and six
great-grandsons.
A version of this article appears in print on , Section B, Page 8 of the National edition with the headline: Jaki Byard, a Jazz Musician And Teacher, Is Dead at 76.
I spent a horribly jazz-deprived time in Eugene, Oregon, in 1977, where the only saving grace was the Prez Records shop,
which was named for Lester Young and operated by a true believer. But
over the length of the fall semester, there was only one area
performance by a jazz combo. It was led by the late Stan King of
Portland, and given the subject of this blog, it's worth noting that it
featured Marty Ehrlich, who was just then emerging from the New England
Conservatory, where he was a star pupil of Jaki Byard. When I flew into
Boston for the Christmas holidays that year, I made sure to arrive on a
Wednesday so that I could see Byard leading his big band, The Apollo
Stompers, which had formerly included Ehrlich, at Michael’s Pub on
Gainsborough Street. The band was stocked with NEC students, and even
though they were young and unseasoned, under Jaki’s direction they
congealed into a dynamic outfit with a fascinating repertoire. (Byard
also maintained a New York edition of the Stompers that was staffed by
professionals and recorded for Soul Note Records.) Before leaving
for the West Coast that summer, Michael’s had been a regular stop for
me on Wednesday nights. The place was a shot-and-a-beer dive with leaky
ceilings and overhead steam pipes under which spaghetti pots were
strategically placed to collect dripping water. Students from nearby NEC
and Northeastern wandered in at night and spruced it up a bit, and the
Stompers gave it a big lift on Wednesdays. As tired as I was upon my arrival at Logan that December night, I was
determined to get to Michael’s, but no sooner had I arrived and grabbed
a chair near one of the sputtering radiators in the rear than I fell
asleep. How long I spent in the land of nod I don’t recall, but what
awakened me was Jaki, who though best known as a pianist, was playing
his old standby, “When Sunny Gets Blue,” on alto saxophone-- right in my
face! Whether this was the same method he used to get the attention of
students dozing in class I don’t know, but it sure snapped me out of my
slumber and into a dream come true, a personal wake-up call from Prof
Byard. June 15 was John Arthur Byard’s 95th birthday anniversary.
Like me, he was born in Worcester, and he blazed his own trail out of
town, so I’ve felt a desire to celebrate Jaki ever since I became aware
of him. I love his eclecticism, his unpredictability, his restless
engagement with tradition, his humor, even his sarcasm, which he
displays in a twelve-second intro to a Thelonious Monk medley he played
at Maybeck Recital Hall in 1991. Jaki tells the audience, “There was a
composer in Paris [who] was commissioned to write a composition for some
big shot for the left hand, so I’m going to do this thing just with my
left hand only,” then proceeds into “’Round Midnight.” Jaki’s “big shot”
rings with a Worcester-accented clarity that resonates with the kinds
of taunts I heard on the streets of my old hometown. Chet Williamson, the Worcester-born jazz harmonica player, has been a custodian of Byard’s legacy since his death by
gunshot at his home in Queens in 1999. As the New York Times obituary
by Peter Keepnews reported in 1999, "Police are investigating the death
of Mr. Byard, who was found shot in the home he shared with his two
daughters. Denise Byard-Mitchell, one of his daughters, said the family
was baffled by the killing, and that she and other family members had
been home when Mr. Byard died and had heard nothing." The case remains
"open" and unsolved eighteen years later.
Jaki Byard, age 16, lower right, with members of the Saxtrum Club, Worcester, 1938.
Williamson’s
research and writings on Byard’s Worcester background, including his
co-founding in 1938 of the Saxtrum Club, a cooperative established by
the city’s black musicians, and a video-taped symposium he hosted on
Byard at WPI in 2001, are a cornerstone of WPI's Jazz History Database. Here’s a montage he put together of images from Jaki’s Worcester days. In
a 1979 interview with W. Royal Stokes, Jaki discussed his early
experiences seeing bands in the mid '30s. "My mother used to give me
seventy-five cents to go see the bands that were playing at Quinsigamond
Lake -- ten cents for the streetcar each way, fifty cents to get into
the dance, five cents for a coke. I would walk to the dance so that I
could drink five cokes. I'd stand in front of the band all night and
listen. Fats Waller, Lucky Millinder, Chick Webb with Ella Fitzgerald,
the Benny Goodman Quartet with Teddy Wilson, Lionel Hampton, and Gene
Krupa. That would be about 1936. And I was tuning in on the radio
broadcasts of the big bands from hotels, 11:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m.
Ellington, Basie, Fatha Hines, Jimmie Lunceford, Benny Carter. Those
were the things that inspired me. I guess it stuck with me."
(Incidentally, Stokes continually refers to Jaki's hometown as Boston
rather than Worcester, New England's second largest city 40 miles to the
west.) Byard also figures prominently in a lively and resourceful book by Richard Vacca, The Boston Jazz Chronicles: Faces, Places, and Nightlife 1937-1962.
Vacca’s chapter on Byard begins with Nat Hentoff’s assertion that Jaki
“was a pervasive influence on nearly every young Boston jazz musician
who was interested in discovering new jazz routes.” Following his Army
service in World War II, Byard toured with Earl Bostic, then was on the
Boston scene throughout the late '40s and ’50s where he played with Ray
Perry, Jimmy “Bottoms Up” Tyler, Herb Pomeroy, Charlie Mariano, Sam
Rivers, and Jimmie Martin’s 17 Exponents of Bebop, a band that included
Gigi Gryce and Joe Gordon. He led his own trio at Wally’s, a big band at
the Buckminster Hotel, and was the “intermission pianist” at the Stable
in Copley Square. He was also at the center of activity at the Melody
Lounge in Lynn, a venue favored by the modernists. (Danvers-born piano
phenom Dick Twardzik, who died from a heroin overdose at 24 in
Paris while touring with Chet Baker, was often there too.) During
his Boston years, two of Byard's compositions were recorded. "Diane's
Melody" (named for his wife, and one of numerous works dedicated to
family members) was introduced on Serge Chaloff's 1955 album, Boston Blow-Up. Three years later, “Aluminum Baby,” appeared on Herb Pomeroy's big band album, Life Is a Many-Splendored Gig. Jaki
plays tenor on the date while another Boston legend, Ray Santisi, is at
the piano. Here it's played by Fred Hersch and the NEC Jazz Orchestra.
Jaki's legacy is also the raison-d'etre of Yard Byard, a quintet
featuring George Schuller on drums, Jamie Baum, alto flute, Jerome
Harris, guitar, Ugonna Okegwo, bass, and Adam Kolker, tenor
saxophone/bass clarinet. Here they play Byard's "Inch By Inch."
Byard went on the road in 1959 with Maynard Ferguson’s big band as
pianist and arranger. The following year, aged 38, he recorded his first
album, Blues for Smoke, which Nat Hentoff produced for Candid. In December 1960, he played on Eric Dolphy's album Far Cry,
which introduced two of Jaki's most celebrated compositions, "Mrs.
Parker of K.C.," and "Ode to Charlie Parker." It also introduced Byard
to Prestige Records, the label he would record several
outstanding albums for over the next decade. In 1962, he joined Charles
Mingus, with whom he toured extensively until Mingus took a break from
the scene around 1967. Given their mutual interest and deep knowledge of
pre-modern jazz styles and post-modern concepts, they were a natural
match, and his association with Mingus remains the most prominent of
Byard's career. Jaki arranged several pieces, including “Meditations on
Integration,” for the landmark concert and album Mingus at Monterey.
Most of the horn players on Byard's Prestige albums, Dolphy, Richard
Williams, Booker Ervin, Jimmy Owens, and Roland Kirk, were also Mingus
associates. Here’s Jaki with Mingus, Dolphy on bass clarinet,
Clifford Jordan on tenor saxophone, Johnny Coles on trumpet, and drummer
Dannie Richmond playing “Take the A Train.” Note the look of delight on
Mingus's face (at 3:23) as Jaki grunts his way through a solo that
displays his patented command of keyboard styles from stride to bebop to
avant-garde.
Speaking of routes, one of the most impressive of Byard’s
compositions is “European Episode,” which he recorded with tenor
saxophonist Booker Ervin and trumpeter Richard Williams in 1964 on Out Front! The
work was composed as a dance suite in six parts inspired by a European
sojourn that wound its way from Brussels to Paris to Milan. Jaki’s
boyhood friend Don Asher, who wrote of the transforming influence Byard
had on his young life in his superb memoir Notes From a Battered Grand,
describes “European Episode” as “kaleidescopic…a hurly burly of urban
streets in a lively excursion of shifting tempos, rhythms, and
evocations.”
In Notes From A Battered Grand, Asher says he first
encountered Jaki at Dominic's Cafe, a “bucket of blood” on Worcester’s
east side. He recalled Byard as a “a big heavy-shouldered fellow in blue
shirt and brown pants. His eyes seemed remote, inwardly focused as he
played, and his smooth, plump, sweating face glistened with ardor and
tension.” In due time, he persuaded Jaki to give him lessons, of which
Asher wrote, “Every Friday afternoon I went straight from high school to
Jaki Byard’s house on Carroll Street. I arrived at 1:30, and when I
left the shadows were lengthening…If members of his family needed the
parlor, we’d go down the street to the Saxtrum Club, a converted store
that was a place to hang out and jam for Central Massachusetts musicians
and road bands coming through…Roy Eldridge dropped by, and Anita O’Day,
Gene Krupa, Cozy Cole, Frank Sinatra. Jaki, at 18, was the club’s
resident luminary and official host. On nights when there were no
sessions at the Saxtrum, he would lock the door early from the
inside…and he’d practice on the ancient upright all night—scales and
exercises…random excursions and improvisations mingling with snatches of
Bach and Chopin. If he knew there was someone listening outside the
door—and before midnight there was often a knot of us, like kids huddled
around a bakery shop drawn by the rumor that free samples might be
given out—he’d slide into some whomping, way-back whorehouse piano, a
big, pumping, joyous sound, and in our imaginations it was like being
present at a spectacular parade, hearing a whole history of the music
from the New Orleans cribs and levees on up the river.”
Byard returned to Boston in 1969 at Gunther Schuller’s request to
establish the Afro-American Music department (now Jazz Studies) at NEC,
and he also taught at the Hartt School at the University of Hartford,
the New School, and the Manhattan School of Music. Among the well-known
musicians who credit Byard as a teacher and mentor are Ricky Ford, Marty
Ehrlich, Jason Moran, and Alan Pasqua. 18 years after his death, Byard’s legacy remains significant and cherished at NEC. In a note to Jaki’s daughter Diane on this YouTube clip of
Byard’s performance at the Pittsburgh Jazz Festival, Pasqua writes,
“Your father changed my life by encouraging me to move to Boston to
study with him. When I got there, he was there for me, in every way. It
was not lip service. He was my friend and mentor.” Pasqua has been in
the news this month as the pianist who accompanied Bob Dylan on his
Nobel Prize speech. Read a New York Times feature on Alan here.
In a comment for this article, Marty Ehrlich said, "The man was touched
by genius. Musicians all knew it…He was not cut out to conquer the
world. We are all the beneficiaries of his generosity and brilliance." Pianist
Jason Moran, who succeeded Billy Taylor as the advisor for jazz at the
Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, spoke last month about the four
years he spent as Jaki's student at the Manhattan School of Music.
The late George Russell, another legend among NEC faculty, offered
this knowing appreciation of his colleague. “Jaki Byard always
personified the past, present and future of jazz, wherever or whenever
one might have been fortunate enough to experience his challenging
ideas. An icon in the history of jazz, Jaki was Art Tatum, Earl Hines,
Bud Powell, Ran Blake, Cecil Taylor, and Bill Evans, all in one. Yet,
like these fellow icons, he was his own uncompromising, unique, living
entity. He isn’t a household name, but most likely his low profile is
the result of an irresistible need to constantly reinvent himself, the
sure sign of the consummate artist. His history, from Boston’s
Storyville to the countdown year of the millennium, leaves us with a
rich history of his music, his life and times, allowing us to experience
the intense struggle of a dedicated artist to keep his essence alive
while still making us laugh with him along life’s corridor. There will
never be anyone who can take his place.” Byard is the subject of a film directed in 1979 by Harvard student Dan Algrant. Anything For Jazz includes
Ron Carter and Bill Evans speculating on why Byard isn't better known,
and footage from Ali's Alley in New York and Michael's Pub. Jaki plays
Charles Mingus's "Fables of Faubus," and conducts the Apollo Stompers in
a performance of "I May Be Wrong (But I Think You're Wonderful)." Home
movie footage of Jaki's family walking along a beach is seen while he
plays a new composition dedicated to his mother, mother-in-law, and
newly born grandson. If you look closely, you can also read the fine
print on Western Union telegrams from Earl Bostic and Billy Eckstine
requesting Jaki's services. And the film concludes with a reflection
that could only have been made by an artist who understand what mattered
most. "I tell my students they'll never be a success if they write like
me, but you'll be a success for yourself."
Marc Myers writes daily on jazz legends and legendary jazz recordings
December 20, 2018
Jaki Byard: Anything for Jazz
Back
in the early 1980s, I'd head down to Barry Harris's Jazz Cultural
Theater on New York's Eighth Avenue in the 20s to hear Jaki Byard &
the Apollo Stompers. As I recall, you never knew who you'd see in the
band. There often were guys in the trumpet section who played Broadway
shows. But the biggest surprise of all was hearing Byard play the piano.
There was a lot of abstraction in his attack, but there always was a
traditional jazz core. Byard was an exceptional technician, a
rambunctiously creative player and a mischief-maker on the keyboards. In
some ways, his artistry was a fascinating mash of Thelonious Monk,
Charles Mingus and Erroll Garner. All were widely admired players, but
all brought a vivid sense of humor to the fore. Last week, director Raymond De Felitta passed along a link to Anything for Jazz,
a short 1980 documentary on Byard based on film that director Dan
Algrant gathered in the late 1970s. There are even two clips of Bill
Evans talking about Byard. Evans looks very ill, so I suspect the
interview was conducted in late 1979 or early '80. A reminder of what
brilliant jazz artists sacrificed for the music and the suffering many
black artists endured from a lack of widespread recognition and praise. A
good way to end the week. Here's the documentary on Jaki Byard...
Jaki Byard was my teacher. When he was shot to death in his house in
early 1999, New England Conservatory, my esteemed alma mater, solicited
reminiscences from those who knew him. The following was my
contribution. I post it here so that I, in a small way, might help to
keep Jaki’s unjustly under-appreciated memory alive.
Memories of Jaki
Jaki Byard is the reason that I became a jazz pianist. When I was
around seventeen, a friend of my folks gave me three records: an Art
Tatum and a Miles Davis (pretty safe bets), and, for some reason, a Phil
Woods record on which there was this pianist playing like some kind of
maniac (I mean that as a compliment). Reading the liner notes, I learned
that he (Jaki) taught at New England Conservatory, whereupon a voice in
my head said, “You mean you can actually STUDY with someone who plays
like THAT? I’ve got to check that out.” And within two years I was doing
just that. There are teachers who have strong methodologies, although
you might not care for them as artists, or even as people. And there are
teachers who may not have strong methodologies, yet , because of their
incredible instrumental and musical prowess, you cannot help but to
absorb something positive. Then there are those teachers who possess
neither great pedagogy nor virtuosity, but who are such wonderful souls
that you learn about the attitude, the philosopy, the approach to being a
more complete musician; a more complete person. To me, Jaki had all of
those fore-mentioned positive attributes. He was quite organized in
getting you started with his harmonic and technical concepts, and his
critiques, although fairly succinct, could be quite piquant. There is
one that lurks in the back of my mind like some sort of silent policeman
each time I poise my hands over the keys. He once asked me what I
thought I was doing wrong, and, after several futile guesses, he said
“It’s your sound. Always try to get a good sound out of the piano.” How
simple. Yet, up until then, I thought that if you played cool voicings
in your left hand (with some sharp 9ths or flat 13ths), and played lots
of diminished and pentatonic licks in your right hand, you were pretty
much set. Sound production? That was for horn players and string
players. Now, if I catch myself getting an ugly sound, I pull in the
reins until I can fix it. As a pianist, of course he was awesome. My
lessons featured a lot of two-piano duets, and I remember trading
choruses of 12-bar blues with him in every key, thinking, “Here we go.
Jaki will now kick Jeremy’s butt in Blues in B.” But it was so much fun.
Those of us with “conservatory training” tend to overemphasize the more
challenging aspects of music while forgetting that music, at its core,
should be enjoyable. A joy to play and a joy to hear. With Jaki, I never
saw the joy not there. Things
written about Jaki usually refer to his “encyclopedic knowledge” of
jazz piano. I would agree with that. But, to hear him play, it was never
like, “I shall now play like Erroll Garner. Next, I will demonstrate
the style of McCoy Tyner. And won’t you be impressed as I reference
Henry Cowell.” There are pianists who can leave you with that
impression. But, with Jaki, it was more like he was fluent in many
languages, and, using himself as a filter, he had a wider variety of
ways to impart his ideas and gestures. And always with his puckish sense
of humor at the ready. There is a record on which he is playing some
seriously stomping stride when he screeches to a halt in mid-phrase,
pauses a few seconds, then launches into about eight measuires of Chopin
before resuming his previous stride extravaganza. Pure genius. I am
much more likely to listen to what someone is saying if I am convinced
that they don’t take themselves too seriously. I guess that is why Jaki
was such a great teacher for me. Jaki Byard changed my life. And I know that I’m not the only one. By Jeremy Kahn Click here to access The New England Conservatory’s webpage
John A.
“Jaki” Byard, eclectic jazz pianist, composer and teacher who recorded
with such luminaries as Charles Mingus and Rahasaan Roland Kirk, has
been found shot to death. He was 76.Byard was shot in the head
Thursday in his home in Queens, N.Y., which he shared with his two
daughters. The family said no shots were heard, and a police
investigation is continuing.His life and his music paralleled the
evolution of jazz. Byard was known for a remarkable ability to work in
any style--from boogie-woogie to free and modern jazz--and to relate to
audiences of all ages as well as to his far younger students.Born
in Worcester, Mass., Byard grew up in a musical home--his mother played
piano, his father played baritone horn in a marching band--and he
became a fixture in the little-known but important Boston jazz scene. He
studied piano and trumpet as a child, and later added saxophones, the
trombone, guitar and drums.
Byard played trombone while in the Army during World War II, then
returned to Boston to work with tenor saxophonist Sam Rivers in a band.
He toured and recorded with alto saxophonist Earl Bostic, worked as a
solo pianist and played tenor sax in Herb Pomeroy’s big band and later
Maynard Ferguson’s orchestra.In 1961, Byard recorded “Here’s
Jaki,” featuring drummer Roy Haynes. Throughout that decade, he became a
popular piano accompanist for major recordings by Eric Dolphy, Don
Ellis, Booker Irvin, Charlie Mariano, Mingus and Kirk, among others.Byard
began his teaching career in the late 1960s, working at the New England
Conservatory of Music, the Manhattan School of Music, Bennington
College, the Hartford School of Music, the Brooklyn Conservatory and the
University of Massachusetts.In the 1970s, Byard organized and
led his own big band, the Apollo Stompers. He continued to perform,
record and compose pieces such as “Aluminum Baby,” encompassing a
variety of jazz styles.Byard’s humor came through in his compositions and delivery. During a
concert in New York City in 1989, he pounded discordantly through a
portion of his “Family Suite,” then turned characteristically to the
audience and deadpanned: “That’s a family argument.”Highly
respected as a musician and musical educator, Byard was chosen to take
Duke Ellington’s place at the piano in the Ellington Orchestra when the
Duke was near death.Byard is survived by two daughters, Diane and Denise; a son, Gerald; four grandsons and six great-grandsons.
Jaki Byard: Promethean eclecticism was only the beginning.Don Schlitten
Lea was two months old the first time we took her to a concert. Jaki Byard’s 1989 recital at Weill Hall. He sat at the piano and
played a 10-note discord. She whimpered, looked distressed. But he
followed instantly with a lambent stride passage. She raised her head
and smiled, then fell into an hour’s sleep. I knew the feeling. Jaki
never put me to sleep, but he always made me smile and frequently
knocked me out. Listening to him was like turning on a tap in which all
the strains of modern piano, from James P. Johnson to Cecil Taylor, flowed in one luscious rush. Yet having described the
most obvious aspect of his playing, I feel obliged to backpedal from the
old saw that his music stood for no more than a promethean eclecticism.
The result was his own and unmistakable, by turns hard, percussive,
witty, sentimental, sardonic, whimsical, subversive, ebullient,
anguished. Like Sonny Rollins, he could fake you out— making you think,
for example, that those corny arpeggios were a joke, so that you didn’t
know whether to feel embarrassed or grateful at the emotions he
extracted from them.
Jaki died February 11, at 76, of a gunshot wound, in his home in
Hollis, Queens, and rumors abound— an intruder, someone personally
close, suicide. I can’t believe the last, though he was hit hard by the
death a few years back of his wife, Louise, his devoted and amusingly
acerbic companion of some four decades. He left two daughters, Denise
and Diane, whose names and occasional singing are known to admirers of
his compositions and recordings; a son, Gerald; and a passel of
grandsons and great-grandsons. He also left an enormous number of
students past and present, both institutional— eight years at the New England Conservatory of Music, four at the
Hart School of Music, three a lecturer at Harvard, among other
affiliations— and private, including Marty Ehrlich, D.D. Jackson, and a
young musical therapist named Vanessa Kaster, who came to learn
improvisation and said last week, “Every particle of him was music.
Sometimes the lessons would last three hours. His clock wasn’t set to
real time, only to music.” I studied with him in 1974, when he was part of the faculty at Martin
Williams’s critics colloquium at the Smithsonian; but I’d been studying
his music long before that. In the mid ’60s, he was one of the pianists
who regularly played the Village Gate mezzanine. If you were short on
cash, you could sit at the bar and nurse a beer through several sets and
no one bothered you. I loved trying to follow his stream-of-consciousness forays, medleys of songs and techniques— never dull,
never indifferent. He was a master of stride, r&b, ballads, and free
improvisation, a great Garner, Tatum, and Hines player; these were not
affectations, but integral to what he knew and believed about piano.
When Vanessa asked him about stride, he said it was no big deal, that
you could find it in classical music, that it was all part of the piano
repertoire. Still, what I liked best was what I came to think of as
Jaki’s core style, a driven bebop linearity that ranged over the whole
keyboard with a fierce purposefulness, every note struck like a hammer.
He could make a piano roar. But as soon as you thought you knew the
song, he turned the corner and you were in another country. One night at the Gate, a little juiced-up Billy Eckstine wannabe who
sang as “Junior Parker” and had no fixed address, just an oversized
overcoat, walked in and asked to sing. Jaki shrugged, and soon Junior
was there every night, arriving in the middle of the set to wail
“Getting To Know You” in an impossibly slow, cellolike arrangement. Jaki
included him and it on his next album, the irresistible Freedom Together!,
after which Junior disappeared. On a college break, I went to the Gate
to find Jaki no longer in residence, and asked if he was playing
anywhere. “Oh, Jaki’s at the 82 Club,” someone said, giving me
directions to the East Village. When I finally found the joint I was
greeted by a midget transvestite who said he’d never heard of Jaki Byard
but I was certainly welcome; I stomped out, annoyed at the joke played
on me. Yearslater, I told Jaki. He said, “Man, you should’ve come in. Those were nice people. Actually, that was one of my better gigs.”
Which was probably true. He was briefly in the rotation at the
Village Vanguard, but after 1970 I mostly heard him in restaurants or
one-shot concerts— among them, encounters with David Murray, Greg Osby,
and Archie Shepp. In later years, he was inconsistent, sometimes
noodling in introspective meditation, waiting— Rollins-like— for the
muse to jump-start him. He looked increasingly like a bemused bear, his
hair a straightened thatch sprouting around his head, his face round and
line-free, his expression quizzical. He loved big bands more than
anything— he had come up with Herb Pomeroy in Boston (despite more than
three decades in Queens, henever lost a scintilla of his accent), toured the country as pianist
and arranger with Maynard Ferguson, worked closely with Charles Mingus
(he arranged much of the 1964 Monterey concert), and occasionally subbed
for an ailing Duke Ellington. Incredibly for a guy who struggled to get
trio work, he organized a big band, theApollo Stompers— named, he was quick to point out, for the Greek
god, not the theater. His final recording, made last spring and as yet
unreleased, was his third with the orchestra. Jaki will be best remembered, however, for the astonishing recordings
he cut between 1961 and 1972, mostly for Prestige, though he insisted
his personal favorite was a solo date for Futura in Paris (1971, never
released here); and for piloting Richard Davis and Alan Dawson in one of
the greatest rhythm sections ever assembled. If he never acquired a
commensurate following, he was long a critical favorite and he had a
loyal and imaginative producer in Don Schlitten, who assembled that
rhythm section in 1963, for the first of the Booker Ervin “Book” LPs.
Like Armstrong’s Hot 5 or Morton’s Red Hot Peppers, it existed only in
the studio, but over the next decade it proved a telling alternative to
HerbieRonTony, a combustible, cohesive, swinging unit that never
tempered the individuals involved— you couldn’t believe what was going
on in that cauldron. Most of the albums are out of print, some for more than 15 years. But they’ve been slowly returning, one by one, and they merit reassessment. Jaki was the kind of musician who played “Giant Steps” slow (Here’s Jaki) and “Lush Life” fast (Out Front). On Hi-Fly,
he disguises the title tune with a full-bore rhythmic buildup and makes
James P. Johnson’s “Yamekraw” sound modern. He was also an
exceptionally deep and versatile blues player, as you can glean by
comparing “Searchlight,” “Out Front,” and “Freedom Together.” The
untuned piano at a place called Lennie’s on the Turnpike inspired him
(as did saxophonist Joe Farrell) to one bashing climax after another on
the two volumes of Live! (a third volume was never released). For the full Byard effect, however, you must follow him into the twilight zone of Freedom Together! (Schlitten has always liked exclamation points); On the Spot! (the title track is brutal hard bop while “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” is r&b); the dazzling Jaki Byard Experience (with Rahsaan, a friskier companion to Kirk’s own Rip, Rig, and Panic); and the staggering Sunshine of My Soul,
where his assimilation of Taylor is given free rein on “Sunshine” and
“Trendsition Zildjian,” his fluent Tatum chops sweep through “Chandra,”
and his own bopping proclivities erupt on “Diane’s Melody.” Jaki Byard With Strings!
has “Cat’s Cradle Conference Rag,” in which the leader plays “Take the A
Train,” Ray Nance plays “Jersey Bounce,” George Benson plays “Darktown
Strutters Ball,” Richard Davis plays “Intermission Riff,” Ron Carter
plays “Desafinado,” and Alan Dawson plays “Ring Dem Bells”— at the same
time. A few complicated arrangements notwithstanding, that album is
mostly an upbeat jam. His most resonant work is to be found on the
lavishly varied recitals, Solo Piano, There’ll Be Some Changes Made, Duet! (an ardent collaboration with Earl Hines), To Them— To Us, At Maybeck. Perhaps, someday, even the Futura album he loved will cross the Atlantic. Jaki gave up waiting long ago; me, never.
Today, when the info-tech "celestial
jukebox" provides an unprecedented ease of access to the historical and
geographic span of recorded music—often while stripping it of data that
would give contextual meaning—we are reminded that it is the music that
crosses, transcends, or illuminates the borders of categories like
"style" or "genre" that may prompt re-consideration of what such
categories mean, and how they might be fruitfully handled in
the process of making resonant art. From this perspective, the work of
pianist, composer, arranger and educator Jaki Byard sparks useful
thoughts. John Arthur "Jaki" Byard grew up in working-class Worcester,
Massachusetts. He was raised in a rich African American musical milieu :
Jaki's father played brass instruments, and both his mother and
maternal grandmother played piano. He took music seriously from a young
age, practicing assiduously, developing quickly, and performing locally
on piano, trumpet, trombone, and tenor and alto saxophones. Jaki drew
inspiration from big bands that performed in the area, as well as from
recordings by Art Tatum, Count Basie, James P. Johnson, Fats Waller,
Earl Hines, and many others. He transcribed big-band arrangements for
local bands to play, eventually writing his own arrangements and
compositions; he studied classical scores in local libraries; he studied
with private teachers from time to time, and the skills he developed
led to steady work in the fertile and robust jazz scene in 1950s New
England, and, eventually, beyond. From the early 1960s, Jaki garnered critical acclaim as one of the
world's great jazz pianists, touring and recording as a bandleader, and
as a valued sideman to Charles Mingus, Eric Dolphy, and Duke Ellington.
He was also one of the first teachers that composer/conductor/scholar
Gunther Schuller brought into the Afro-American Studies program—the
world's first conservatory jazz studies department—at New England
Conservatory of Music. Jaki became renowned for his mastery of an unusually wide swath of
jazz piano history : "two-fisted" ragtime and stride; Earl Hines–type
"trumpet style" phrasing; a chord vocabulary showing deep knowledge of
Ellington, Basie, Louis Moreau Gottschalk, and others; the bebop idiom
that emerged in the 1940s; virtuosic arpeggio passages à la Chopin,
Debussy, Rachmaninoff, and Art Tatum; and uses of dissonance that would
not be foreign to Stravinsky, Bartók, or Cecil Taylor. Few jazz
musicians of his time chose to integrate such a wide range of stylistic
vocabulary so deeply into their personal dialect, or to wield it so
freely as an expressive practice. In his book Weather Bird : Jazz At The Dawn Of Its Second Century, Gary Giddins wrote about Jaki's historical knowledge, and its role in his iconoclastic style:
Listening to him was like turning on a tap in which all the strains of
modern piano, from James P. Johnson to Cecil Taylor, flowed in one
luscious rush. Yet having described the most obvious aspect of his
playing, I feel obliged to backpedal from the old saw that his music
stood for no more than a promethean eclecticism. His style was his own
and unmistakable, by turns hard, percussive, witty, sentimental,
sardonic, whimsical, subversive, ebullient, anguished.1
It is worth noting that Jaki formed his expressive approach during an
era of significant change in African American musical culture. His
early years as a professional performer were a time of regular work in
non-formal venues : halls and clubs where audiences sought and expected
entertainment that addressed the spirit and body along with the
intellect; art that could surprise as well as soothe; music that could
employ humor, and perhaps be danced to—as a student of his, I recall
Jaki mentioning playing for "shake dancers"; later, he regularly worked
with tap dancers such as Tina Pratt. Joy is a core value in much African
American art, and it is certainly evident in Jaki's work. Coupled with
his wide-ranging musical curiosity and openness, his embrace of joy is
an element in the "free-wheeling" feeling found in much of his playing. Jaki’s respect for—and intimate knowledge of—so much music led to a
long career as an educator during the advent of formal college-level
jazz instruction in the United States. In addition to his faculty
position at NEC, he taught at the Manhattan School of Music,
Connecticut's Hartt School of Music, and The New School for Social
Research in New York. Among the generations of distinguished musicians
who attest to his influence are several pianists who have become
influential educators themselves : Hal Galper (The New School, Purchase
College Conservatory of Music), Bruce Barth (Columbia University), Alan
Pasqua (Thornton School of Music, University of Southern California),
and Jason Moran (Artistic Director for Jazz at the John F. Kennedy
Center for the Performing Arts). Many non-pianists, including woodwind
artists Jamie Baum, Marty Ehrlich, Ricky Ford, and Michael Moore, also
claim Jaki as a formative influence on their musicianship and their
artistic concept.
Pianist Fred Hersch, a twelve-time Grammy nominee, has written about his experience as a student of Jaki's at NEC:
He could play like Fats Waller or Bud Powell and demonstrate the
mechanics of each technique. He had a profound and detailed
understanding of why each pianist sounded the way he did—to this day I'm
not sure where he got such vast knowledge. For that ability alone he
was ideally suited to teaching. He was also funny as hell and great
company. He taught from the deep well of experience he had accumulated
over many years as a professional musician—he had a lot to teach . . . I
learned a lot from Jaki simply being in his presence. As a musician and
as a person his spirit was fearless—he didn't let stylistic
constrictions get in his way of playing whatever he felt—and he was not
the least bit ostentatious. He had an unmanicured view of jazz and life
in general.2 In the course of a lesson with me, he might play in half a dozen
styles. But no matter what tune he played or what style he played in,
the music was definitely his. Jaki had his own approach to line, to
rhythm, to color, and to touch. I learned quite a lot from watching him
over the keyboard, playing piano duets with him, and just simply
listening to him . . . what I took away from Jaki was what I learned
being next to him while he played, watching him use the whole
instrument, top to bottom, style by style, in a way that always had his
own musical signature.3
Hersch and Giddins both highlight the presence of strong personal
character, alongside a clear embrace and use of tradition, in Jaki's
work. Over the years, some listeners seem to have missed that aspect of
it ; typical of this view is Len Lyons's comment :
Of course, Byard has paid for his reliance on jazz tradition by giving
up the pursuit of a clear stylistic identity for himself. It has hurt
him commercially; the public, unless it is indulging in an occasional
bout of nostalgia, demands individuality and novelty.4
Perhaps those listeners have been distracted, confused or challenged
by Jaki's puckish and hurly-burly use of echoes of bygone times. Perhaps
his disdain for pretension or his willingness to use humor led them
astray, as Giddins points out :
Like Sonny Rollins, he could fake you out—making you think, for example,
that those corny arpeggios were a joke, so that you didn’t know whether
to feel embarrassed or grateful at the emotions he extracted from them.5
I would suggest that the locus of this type of reaction is not so
much the music itself ; rather, it is what the terms genre and style
have come to mean for many listeners. Prominent elements of style and
genre are often experienced as signifiers, "triggers" that elicit
seductive surface-level association responses : "Look ! I know what that
is ! That's old ; that's stride !" (or "that's 'bebop' or
'avant-garde'—or hip-hop, or classical, or . . . insert the genre label
of your choice). Composer/trombonist and Columbia University music professor George
Lewis has spoken about another musician whose work has, in a somewhat
different manner, engaged these concerns :
What's interesting about John [Zorn] is the way he has managed to
confound ideas about genre and tradition in a very truthful way that
opened things up for a lot of younger people," Mr. Lewis said. "The
early jazz musicians would always tell you that you should listen to
everything. John took that about as literally as can be.6
Much the same can be said about Jaki Byard. Elements of style—whether
tied to place/time/identity/category, or unshackled from them—carry
artistic content and expressive meaning that exist parallel to, and
distinct from, such associations. Jaki Byard's work can fruitfully be
viewed from this perspective : as music that playfully explores and
illuminates the rich relationships among history, culture, group and
individual identity, and human expressiveness.
The author gratefully thanks Marty Ehrlich for his contributions to this essay.
Falling Rains of Life by Chet Williamson, The Projects Publishing, Holliston MA, 2018 www.jakibyardbook.com) is a detailed biography of Jaki Byard, and was an valuable resource. 1. Gary Giddins, Weather Bird : Jazz At The Dawn Of Its Second Century (New York : Oxford University Press, 2004), 222. 2. Fred Hersch, Good Things Happen Slowly : A Life In and Out of Jazz (New York : Crown Archetype, 2017), eBook edition, 103-104. 3. Hersch, 107. 4. Len Lyons, The Great Jazz Pianists : Speaking of Their Lives and Music (New York : Da Capo Press, 1983), 186. 5. Giddins, 222. 6. Ben Sisario, “Lionized, but Restless as Ever”, New York Times, July 10, 2013.
Stepping boldly into the future even when reworking the past, jazz pianist Jaki Byard, who has died aged 76, played everything straight - the reason why he is the godfather of the Wynton Marsalis generation. Now we are approaching the official centenary of the birth of jazz, its musicians are at an unprecedented ease with the past. Nobody thinks it odd if a pianist underpins melody with stride patterns or a boogie bass. When Byard did that 30 years ago, distinctions were drawn more tightly.
Byard was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, and for much of his life was linked professionally with Boston, where he worked and taught. His parents were keen on music and he studied piano. By the time he joined the army in 1941, and certainly when he left three years later, he could perform competently on a range of instruments.
In his early twenties, he was poised to make his mark on the beboppers of New York. However, the non-musical activities linked to New York’s underworld did not appeal, and he returned to Boston. He recorded with saxophonist Charlie Mariano, and toured with rhythm and blues legend Earl Bostic. By the early 1950s, he was revered around Boston as a teacher, and has been credited with crucial early input into the city which has since become probably the jazz education capital of the universe.
He worked and recorded with Herb Pomeroy’s orchestra, playing tenor saxophone as well as writing arrangements. Piano was always his main instrument and his first job with a nationally known leader came when he joined Maynard Ferguson’s big band. The 1960s brought a new kind of jazz, and Byard was in demand. Trumpeter Don Ellis used him on his first albums. The saxophone star Eric Dolphy did likewise, and helped him get a recording contract with Prestige. Dolphy may also have been influential in bringing him and Charles Mingus together, leading to what in terms of audience visibility became the pianist’s most important job.
He played on Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus and The Black Saint And The Sinner Lady, but is more prominent on concert recordings, including several made during a European tour of 1964. A blues called So Long Eric turns up several times; Byard always throws in bebop and block chords while the left hand takes turns with stride and Erroll Garner-type rhythms. Effortlessly eclectic, he was an ideal colleague for someone passionate about avoiding musical stereotypes, which is probably why he and Mingus stayed together, off and on, until the early 1970s, despite numerous disagreements.
A supremely confident solo pianist, Byard once teamed with Britain’s Howard Riley for a memorable series of duets. He ran an occasional orchestra called the Apollo Stompers and, following the death of Mingus, was part of an early version of the Mingus Big Band. He retained his teaching commitments in New York and Massachusetts, including the New England Conservatory and the Manhattan School of Music.
Classed among the more progressive of the time, his own albums stayed clear of the modish, whether free- form or heavy soul. Unique not simply because he could switch instruments so readily, they sound better than ever.
Byard died in Queens, New York, after a shooting which baffled those members of his family who were also at home, but did not hear it. He is survived by two daughters, a son, four grandsons and six great-grandsons.
Jaki (John) Byard, jazz musician, born June 15 1922; died February 11, 1999
John Arthur "Jaki" Byard (June 15, 1922 – February 11, 1999) was an Americanjazz multi-instrumentalist, composer and arranger. Mainly a pianist, he also played tenor and alto saxophones, among several other instruments. He was known for his eclectic style, incorporating everything fromragtime andstride tofree jazz.
Byard played with trumpeterMaynard Ferguson in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and was a member of bands led by bassistCharles Mingus for several years, including on several studio and concert recordings. The first of his recordings as a leader was in 1960, but, despite being praised by critics, his albums and performances did not gain him much wider attention. In his 60-year career, Byard recorded at least 35 albums as leader, and more than 50 as a sideman. Byard's influence on the music comes from his combining of musical styles during performance, and his parallel career in teaching.
From 1969 Byard was heavily involved in jazz education: he began teaching at theNew England Conservatory of Music and went on to work at several other music institutions, as well as having private students. He continued performing and recording, mainly in solo and small group settings, but he also led two big bands – one made up of some of his students, and the other of professional musicians. His death, from a single gunshot while in his home, remains an unsolved mystery.
Early life
Byard was born inWorcester, Massachusetts. At that time, his parents – John Sr and Geraldine Garr – were living at 47 Clayton Street.[1] Both of his parents played musical instruments; his mother played the piano, as did his uncles and grandmother, the last playing in cinemas during the silent film era.[2] He began piano lessons at the age of six,[3] but they ended when his family was affected by theGreat Depression.[4] He was also given a trumpet that belonged to his father, and attempted to copy the popular players of the time,Roy Eldridge andWalter Fuller.[4] As a boy he often walked toLake Quinsigamond to listen to bands performing there.[5] He heardBenny Goodman,Lucky Millinder,Fats Waller, andChick Webb, and listened to other bands of the era on the radio.[5] "Those were the things that inspired me – I guess it stuck with me", he commented decades later.[5]
Byard began playing professionally on piano at the age of 16, in bands led by Doc Kentross and Freddy Bates.[4] His early lessons had involved mostly playing by rote, so his development of knowledge of theory and further piano technique occurred from the late 1930s until 1941,[4] including studying harmony at Commerce High School.[6] In that year he was drafted into the army, where he continued with piano lessons and was influenced by pianist Ernie Washington, with whom he was barracked, although Byard also took up trombone at this time.[7] He also studiedStravinsky andChopin, and continued studying classical composers into the 1960s.[8] Part of his military service was in Florida, where he was a mentor to the young saxophonistCannonball Adderley and his brother,Nat.[9][10] After leaving the army in 1946,[10] Byard's musical education continued, through discussions with others, and using library materials combined with music school syllabuses.[11]
Career as musician
Byard played with bands from theBoston area, including for two years with violinistRay Perry, who encouraged Byard to add tenor saxophone to his array of instruments.[11] He then joinedEarl Bostic's band as pianist in 1947 and they toured for around a year.[11] Byard then formed abebop band withJoe Gordon andSam Rivers in Boston, before touring for a year with a stage show band.[11] Back once more in Boston, he had a regular job for three years withCharlie Mariano in a club in nearbyLynn.[12] They recorded together in 1953. Byard was a member ofHerb Pomeroy's band as a tenor saxophonist from 1952 to 1955, and recorded with him in 1957.[13] Byard also played solo piano in Boston in the early to mid-1950s and freelanced in that area later in the same decade.[13] He joinedMaynard Ferguson in 1959, and stayed until 1962.[13][14] As one of Ferguson's players and arrangers, Byard found that his own preference for experimentation in time signatures, harmony and freer improvisation was restricted by the preferences of other band members.[12]
As a leader, Byard recorded a string of albums for thePrestige label during the 1960s. Some of these albums includedRichard Davis on bass andAlan Dawson on drums, a trio combination described by criticGary Giddins as "the most commandingrhythm section of the '60s, excepting theHancock-Carter-Williams trio inMiles Davis's band", although it existed only for recordings.[20] One such album wasJaki Byard with Strings!, a sextet recording that featured Byard's composing and arranging: on "Cat's Cradle Conference Rag", each of five musicians "play fivestandards based on similar harmonies simultaneously".[21] A further example of Byard's sometimes unusual approach to composition is the title track fromOut Front!, which he created by thinking of fellow pianistHerbie Nichols' touch at the keyboard.[22] Popularity with jazz critics did not translate into wider success: a Washington Post review of his final Prestige album,Solo Piano from 1969, remarked that it was by "a man who has been largely ignored outside the inner circles".[23] Giddins also commented in the 1970s on the lack of attention that Byard had received, and stated that the pianist's recordings from 1960 to 1972 "are dazzling in scope, and for his ability to make the most of limited situations".[21] Following his time with Prestige, Byard had more solo performances, in part because of his affection for musical partners he had become close to but who had then died.[24]
Byard also continued to play and record with other leaders. While in Europe in 1965, he joinedArt Blakey's band for a series of concerts there.[25] In 1967 Byard played in a small group with drummerElvin Jones.[26] Between 1966 and 1969 Byard recorded three albums with the saxophonistEric Kloss,[27] then, in 1970, returned to Mingus' band, including for performances in Europe.[10][28] Byard occasionally substituted on piano inDuke Ellington's orchestra in 1974 when the leader was unwell.[10][29] In 1974–75 Byard had a residency at Bradley’s in New York.[10] He also fronted a big band, theApollo Stompers, which was formed in the late 1970s.[3][14] There were two versions of the band: one made up of musicians in New York, and the other using students from theNew England Conservatory of Music,[3] where Byard had taught from 1969.[30]
In 1980 Byard was the subject of a short documentary film, Anything for Jazz, which featured him playing, teaching and with his family.[31] By the 1980s his main instrument remained the piano, and he still played both alto and tenor saxophones, but he had stopped playing the other instruments that he used to use professionally – bass, drums, guitar, trombone, and trumpet, although he still taught all of them.[3] In the same period, he was often heard in New York playing solo, in duos, or in trios.[32] In 1988 he played with a band founded by Mingus' widow to perform the bassist's compositions – theMingus Big Band.[10] Byard played and recorded with a former student of his,Ricky Ford, from 1989 to 1991,[10] and continued to play and teach during the 1990s.
As teacher and player, Byard was renowned for his knowledge of the history of jazz piano.[13] This meant that some aspiring young musicians sought him out as a teacher. One of these was pianistJason Moran, who described their first meeting, at a performance by the Apollo Stompers:
Jaki had all these toys and whistles and bells and things that he was playing from the piano, and also screaming and yelling from the piano in joy. I remember thinking, 'This guy's out of his mind.' After the set, I went up to him, introduced myself, and said that I would be studying with him. He said something to the effect of, 'get ready'.[22]
Moran studied with Byard for four years, and credits the older man with developing his skills, building his awareness of jazz history, and creating his willingness to experiment with different styles.[22] Another student,Fred Hersch, reported that Byard was both organized and chaotic as a teacher: giving his students worksheets and having them study earlystride piano, but also behaving eccentrically and missing lessons.[35] Classical composerBruce Wolosoff was taught by Byard at the New England Conservatory and counts him as an important influence.[36]
Jazz flautistJamie Baum also studied with Byard, and after his death organized a tribute band consisting mainly of his students: Baum,Adam Kolker,Jerome Harris,George Schuller andUgonna Okegwo, called Yard Byard or The Jaki Byard Project, using compositions Byard had left with Baum but never performed.[37]
Death
Byard died in his home inHollis, Queens, New York City, of a gunshot wound on February 11, 1999.[38] He was shot once in the head.[38] The police reported that Byard's family, with whom he shared the house, last saw him at 6 pm, that he was killed around 10 pm, that there "were no signs of robbery, forced entry or a struggle", and that no weapon was found.[38] The death was soon declared to be a homicide,[39] but the circumstances surrounding it have not been determined, and the case remains unsolved.
Byard was survived by two daughters, a son, four grandchildren, and six greatgrandchildren.[14] His wife of four decades had died five years earlier.[29][39]
Playing style and influence
Giddins described the nature of Byard's piano playing: "His tone [...] is unfailingly bright. His middle-register improvisations are evenly articulated with a strong touch and rhythmic elan [... he] likes ringing tremolos and portentous fifths [... and] barely articulated keyboard washes that float beyond the harmonic bounds but are ultimately anchored by the blues".[40] Byard played in a variety of styles, often mixed together in one performance:John S. Wilson commented that Byard "progresses from a basic melodic statement to nimbleArt Tatum fingering toFats Waller stride, to pricklyThelonious Monk phrases, toCecil Taylor dissonances".[41] This could have deliberately comic, surrealistic effects.[42]
Byard pointed out that the use of humor did not mean that his music was not serious: "I might do it with humor, but it's still serious because I mean what I'm doing".[43] He stated that his choice to play in a variety of styles was not imitatory or superficial: "I can't play one way all night; I wouldn't want to and I wouldn't want the public to hear me that way".[44] One obituary writer noted that, "Nobody thinks it odd if a pianist underpins melody with stride patterns or a boogie bass. When Byard did that 30 years ago, distinctions were drawn more tightly".[45] Music writer Dan Lander also stated that Byard's playing was ahead of its time, and added that it has influenced 21st-century pianists:
Byard's grasp and integration of historical forms, his ability to embrace tradition and risk taking, was visionary, impacting on a new generation of jazz musicians who understood the history of jazz as a material to build on and work with, at the service of creating something new, rather than as an unmovable weight, fixing them to the past.[46]
A 1968 review of a Byard concert reported that his alto saxophone playing was "in a manner rooted in the bop era", and that he occasionally accompanied himself, "saxophone with his left hand, piano with his right".[47] His playing on tenor saxophone was influenced byLester Young;[15] Byard himself citedBen Webster as an influence on his tenor ballad playing.[44]
THE
MUSIC OF JAKI BYARD: AN EXTENSIVE VIDEO OVERVIEW, A CROSS SECTION OF
RECORDINGS, MUSICAL ANALYSIS AND COMMENTARY, PLUS VARIOUS INTERVIEWS
WITH JAKI BYARD:
Kofi Natambu, editor of and contributor to Sound Projections, is a writer, poet, cultural critic, and political journalist whose poetry, essays, criticism, reviews, and journalism have appeared in many literary magazines, journals, newspapers, and anthologies. He has written extensively about music as a critic and historian for many publications, including the Black Scholar, Downbeat, Solid Ground: A New World Journal, Detroit Metro Times, KONCH, the Panopticon Review,Black Renaissance Noire, the Village Voice, the City Sun (NYC), the Poetry Project Newsletter (NYC), and the African American Review. He is the author of a biography Malcolm X: His Life & Work (Alpha Books) and two books of poetry: The Melody Never Stops (Past Tents Press) and Intervals (Post Aesthetic Press). He was the founder and editor of Solid Ground: A New World Journal, a national quarterly magazine of the arts, culture, and politics and the editor of a literary anthology Nostalgia for the Present (Post Aesthetic Press). Natambu has read his work throughout the country and given many lectures and workshops at academic and arts institutions. He has taught American literature, literary theory and criticism, cultural history and criticism, film studies, political science, creative writing, philosophy, critical theory, and music history and criticism (Jazz, Blues, R&B, Hip Hop) at many universities and colleges. He was also a curator in the Education Department of Detroit’s Museum of African American History. Born in Detroit, Michigan, Natambu currently lives in Berkeley, California with his wife Chuleenan.
Jaki Byard
Williamson’s
research and writings on Byard’s Worcester background, including his
co-founding in 1938 of the Saxtrum Club, a cooperative established by
the city’s black musicians, and a video-taped symposium he hosted on
Byard at WPI in 2001, are a cornerstone of WPI's Jazz History Database. Here’s a montage he put together of images from Jaki’s Worcester days. 
Things
written about Jaki usually refer to his “encyclopedic knowledge” of
jazz piano. I would agree with that. But, to hear him play, it was never
like, “I shall now play like Erroll Garner. Next, I will demonstrate
the style of McCoy Tyner. And won’t you be impressed as I reference
Henry Cowell.” There are pianists who can leave you with that
impression. But, with Jaki, it was more like he was fluent in many
languages, and, using himself as a filter, he had a wider variety of
ways to impart his ideas and gestures. And always with his puckish sense
of humor at the ready. There is a record on which he is playing some
seriously stomping stride when he screeches to a halt in mid-phrase,
pauses a few seconds, then launches into about eight measuires of Chopin
before resuming his previous stride extravaganza. Pure genius. I am
much more likely to listen to what someone is saying if I am convinced
that they don’t take themselves too seriously. I guess that is why Jaki
was such a great teacher for me.
