SOUND PROJECTIONS
AN ONLINE QUARTERLY MUSIC MAGAZINE
EDITOR: KOFI NATAMBU
SUMMER, 2020
VOLUME EIGHT NUMBER THREE
BRIAN BLADE
Featuring the Musics and Aesthetic Visions of:
GIGI GRYCE
(May 16-22)
CLARK TERRY
(May 23-29)
BRANFORD MARSALIS
(May 30-June 5)
ART FARMER
(June 6-12)
FATS NAVARRO
(June 13-19)
BILLY HIGGINS
(June 20-26)
HANK MOBLEY
(June 27-July 3)
RAPHAEL SAADIQ
(July 4-10)
INDIA.ARIE
(July 11-17)
JOHN CLAYTON
(July 18-24)
MARCUS MILLER
(July 25-31)
JAMES P. JOHNSON
(August 1-7)
https://www.allmusic.com/artist/marcus-miller-mn0000673114/biography
An adept, highly recognized jazz bassist, Marcus Miller rose to prominence as a member of trumpeter Miles Davis'
band of the 1980s, and piled up a long list of session credits while
simultaneously launching his own career as a leader. Known for his fluid
improvisational chops and inclination toward funky,
contemporary-leaning jazz, Miller initially emerged in the 1970s as an in-demand session musician. By the time he joined Davis' group, he had already established a lucrative career playing with such luminaries as Lenny White, Grover Washington, Jr., Bobbi Humphrey, Lonnie Liston Smith, and others. Buoyed by his time with Davis on albums like 1981's The Man with the Horn and 1986's Tutu, he was able to embark on a solo career, coming into his own on albums like 1993's The Sun Don't Lie and 2008's Marcus. He also expanded his reach, moving into producing and composing for films like 2017's Marshall.
Despite the many hats he has worn -- improviser, interpreter, arranger,
songwriter, film music composer, bassist, multi-instrumentalist -- none
of them have been put on as a whim. Never one to merely get his feet
wet, Miller has been a utility player in the strongest and most prolific sense.
Marcus Miller
was a fixture as a performer in New York's jazz clubs before he was old
enough to drive. Born in Brooklyn on June 14, 1959, and raised in
nearby Jamaica, he knew how to play several instruments with ease by the
time he entered his teenage years. His father, who directed a choir and
played organ, had a profound impact upon his musical upbringing. Once
he broke in with Humphrey and Smith, he gained steady work with the likes of Dave Grusin, Earl Klugh, Grover Washington, Jr., Chaka Khan, and Bob James. During 1981 and 1982, the in-demand musician went on the road with longtime personal hero Miles Davis and would end up working with him on several albums -- including Tutu and Music from Siesta -- after that.
Throughout the '80s, '90s, and 2000s, Miller
scattered several of his own albums throughout the constant pull of
production and session work. His solo recordings were almost as diverse
as his outside work; hybrids of smooth R&B, funk, and jazz peppered
the majority of the albums, while 1993's The Sun Don't Lie and the following year's Tales (both issued through PRA) also incorporated sampling technology. Released in 2001, M2 won a Grammy for Best Contemporary Jazz Album. The Ozell Tapes: The Official Bootleg,
released on Telarc in 2003, displayed his range as well as anything
else bearing his handiwork; the live set incorporated originals,
improvisation, and covers that extended from material originally
recorded by Talking Heads and the Stylistics to John Coltrane. Silver Rain appeared in 2005. In 2007, Miller issued Free in Europe, while 2008 saw Marcus released globally; it was his debut for Concord Jazz. In 2009, Miller formed a touring band with Christian Scott on trumpet; they recorded Tutu Revisited, a wide-ranging tribute to Miles Davis, and it was released in Europe in 2011 as a CD/DVD package. Miller returned to the studio for 2012's Renaissance, an album that contained a vocal duet by Gretchen Parlato and Rubén Blades, as well as a guest spot by Dr. John.
Miller
was selected as a UNESCO Artist for Peace and also became spokesperson
for the organization's Slave Route Project. Recording sessions took
place in Africa, Europe, South America, the Caribbean, and the United
States. The sessions featured a wide range of guests including Chuck D., Lalah Hathaway, Robert Glasper, Etienne Charles, Ambrose Akinmusire, Keb' Mo', Wah-Wah Watson, Mocean Worker, and Ben Hong. A pre-release single, "Hylife," was issued in February of 2015, and hit the top spot on several jazz charts. The album, Afrodeezia, followed in March. In 2018 he delivered Laid Black, which featured guest spots from Trombone Shorty, Peculiar, Jonathan Butler, and others.
https://musicians.allaboutjazz.com/marcusmiller https://www.allmusic.com/artist/marcus-miller-mn0000673114/biography
Marcus Miller
(b. June 14, 1959)
Artist Biography by Andy Kellman
Marcus Miller
Marcus Miller, winner of the Grammy Award for
Best Contemporary Jazz Album of 2001, was born in Brooklyn in 1959 and
raised in Jamaica, New York. He came from a musical family and was
influenced early on by his father, a church organist and choir director,
as well as his musical extended family (which included the
extraordinary Wynton Kelly, jazz pianist for Miles Davis during the late
fifties and early sixties!). He displayed an early affinity for all
types of music. By the age of thirteen he was already proficient on the
clarinet, piano, and bass guitar and had begun composing music. The bass
guitar, however, was his love and by the age of fifteen, he was working
regularly in New York City with various bands. Soon thereafter, he was
playing bass and writing music for flutist Bobbi Humphrey and
keyboardist Lonnie Liston Smith
Miller spent the next few years as a top call New York studio musician, working with Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, Grover Washington Jr., Bob James and David Sanborn, among others. He has appeared as a bassist on over 400 records including recordings by artists as diverse as Joe Sample, McCoy Tyner, Mariah Carey, Bill Withers, Elton John, Bryan Ferry, Frank Sinatra, and LL Cool J.
In 1981, he joined his boyhood idol Miles Davis and spent two years on the road with the fabled jazzman. “He didn't settle for anything mediocre,” Miller recalls. “And this helped me develop my style. I learned from him that you have to be honest about who you are and what you do. If you follow that, you won't have problems.”
Miller spent the next few years as a top call New York studio musician, working with Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, Grover Washington Jr., Bob James and David Sanborn, among others. He has appeared as a bassist on over 400 records including recordings by artists as diverse as Joe Sample, McCoy Tyner, Mariah Carey, Bill Withers, Elton John, Bryan Ferry, Frank Sinatra, and LL Cool J.
In 1981, he joined his boyhood idol Miles Davis and spent two years on the road with the fabled jazzman. “He didn't settle for anything mediocre,” Miller recalls. “And this helped me develop my style. I learned from him that you have to be honest about who you are and what you do. If you follow that, you won't have problems.”
Miller subsequently turned his attention to producing, his first major production being David Sanborn's Voyeur, which earned Sanborn a Grammy and turned out to be the beginning of a career-long partnership with the alto saxman. Miller later produced various other top selling albums for Sanborn, including Close Up, Upfront, and 2000 Grammy winner Inside.
For more than twenty years, Miller has also enjoyed a musical relationship with R&B legend, Luther Vandross. “We met in 79 in Roberta Flack's band and instantly connected because we were both so serious about music,” Miller recalls. Over the years, Miller has contributed countless hits to Vandross repertoire both as a producer and writer. Those songs include “Till My Baby Comes Home,” “It's Over Now,” “Any Love,” “I m Only Human,” and “The Power of Love,” which won the 1991 Grammy for R&B Song of the Year.
In 1986, Miller collaborated again with Miles Davis, producing the landmark Tutu album, the first of three Davis albums he would produce. He has also produced Al Jarreau, the Crusaders, Wayne Shorter, Take 6, Chaka Khan, and Kenny Garrett among others, and Luther Vandross.
After spending many years as a producer and session musician, Miller focused on his solo career in late 1993 with the release of The Sun Don't Lie. 1995's Tales found Miller re-imagining the landscape of Black music and its evolution over the past three decades. After years of touring and in response to Miller fans pleas, Live & More was released in 1997.
M2 (”M-squared”), his first release of the new millennium, won the 2001 Grammy for Best Contemporary Jazz Album and was selected by Jazziz as one of the 10 Best CDs of the Year. 3 Deuces Records now debuts The Ozell Tapes: The Official Bootleg, a live double CD. The Ozell Tapes is Miller's compilation of the best of his 2002 tour dates. It's raw, unadulterated, pure funk as only Marcus can do it.
In the past several years, Miller has also turned his attention to film scoring, composing for House Party (Martin Lawrence), Boomerang (Eddie Murphy and Halle Berry), Siesta (Ellen Barkin), Ladies' Man (Tim Meadows), and The Brothers (Morris Chestnut and D.L. Hughley) and Deliver Us From Eva (LL Cool J). He wrote and produced the old school hit, “Da Butt” for Spike Lee's School Daze soundtrack. Miller further surprised people by composing and performing the score to E.B. White's The Trumpet of the Swan. “I loved getting the opportunity to use jazz to tell a story to kids. Children have much more sophisticated ears than people give them credit for. You really don't have to play down to them. Just keep the music real.”
Whether he's making music for kids or longtime fans, keeping it real is the criteria that steers all of Marcus Miller's music. “I like to keep things balanced, combining R&B, jazz, funk and movie stuff to help reflect what's happening in our world. I just try to keep challenging myself to continue to grow and get better.”
https://www.jazz.org/events/t-7308/Marcus-Miller-Electric-Miles/
Rose Theater - Revised
Marcus Miller: Electric Miles
MARCUS MILLER
Miles Davis’ “electric period” (1969—1992) is one of the most influential and passionately debated eras in all of modern music. In this exclusive new program, one of Davis’ crucial collaborators—bassist Marcus Miller—will take audiences through an eclectic body of work, starting with the moment Davis first discovered electric piano in 1969.
Much like Gil Evans and Wayne Shorter before him, Miller played an essential role in shaping Davis’ musical visions. Not only did he play bass on six of Davis’ studio albums, Miller also produced and composed almost every song on three of them, including the Grammy Award–winning Tutu. To this day, Miller is still the premier electric bassist, having recorded more than 500 albums as a leader and with legends such as Michael Jackson, Herbie Hancock, Frank Sinatra, George Benson, McCoy Tyner, Aretha Franklin, and LL Cool J.
Throughout the show, Miller and his band will lead a wide-ranging exploration of Davis’ bold experiments with jazz, rock, funk, hip-hop, and electronic fusions that continue to resonate and inform music today. You will experience a selection of faithful arrangements and, as Davis would surely insist, brand-new versions that further contemporize his boundary-defying material. This retrospective is no mere tribute; it is a passionate reengagement with ideas that changed the world of music, directed by one of the movement’s key players.
There will be no intermission during this performance.
Free pre-concert discussion nightly at 7pm.
Personnel
Brett Williams – Keyboards
Alex Han – Saxophone
Marquis Hill – Trumpet
Russell Gunn – Trumpet
Vernon Reid – Guitar
Alex Bailey – Drums
Mino Cinelu – Percussion
https://www.encyclopedia.com/people/literature-and-arts/music-popular-and-jazz-biographies/marcus-miller
Marcus Miller
Bassist, producerFor the Record…
Selected discography
Sources
With a professional career as a bass guitarist that dates back to his teenage years, Marcus Miller has played on almost 400 albums by almost 200 different performers. His work as a session musician in the 1980s included numerous television and radio advertisements, contributions to hit songs such as Aretha Franklin’s “Jump to It” and Luther Vandross’s “Never Too Much,” and writing, production, and performance credits on Miles Davis’s Tutu album, to name but a few of his accomplishments. Miller made his debut as a solo artist with Suddenly in 1983 and followed it with a self-titled release the next year. From there, it would be almost a decade before he released his third solo album, The Sun Don’t Lie, in 1993. Miller released two more solo albums in the 1990s before wowing critics with M2: Power and Grace in 2001. The album, a mixture of jazz, R&B, and modern rock, was his most successful to date and earned the musician a Grammy Award for Best Contemporary Jazz Album in 2002.
Born on June 14, 1959, in Brooklyn, New York, Miller grew up in the Jamaica section of neighboring Queens. His earliest musical influence came from his father, who played piano and organ in church. After seeing the Jackson 5, the budding musician was inspired to put together singing groups with other children in his neighborhood.
For the Record…
Born on June 14, 1959, in Brooklyn, NY. Education: Attended Queens College.Worked as studio musician, 1970s; performed with Miles Davis’s band, early 1980s; released first solo album, Suddenly, 1983; released The Sun Don’t Lie, 1993; released M2: Power and Grace, 2001.
Awards: Grammy Award, Best R&B Song for “Power of Love/Love Power,” 1991; Grammy Award, Best Contemporary Jazz Album for M2: Power and Grace, 2002.
Addresses: Record company —PRA Records, 29171 Grayfox St., Malibu, CA 90265, website: http://www.prarecords.com. Office —c/o Takamasa Honda, P.O. Box 49365, Los Angeles, CA 90049. Website —Marcus Miller Official Website: http://www.marcusmiller.com.
Miller, who started studying the recorder at age eight and the clarinet at age ten, learned composition and music theory in the classroom but picked up some valuable lessons at home as well. “When I was thirteen, fourteen, I would buy the sheet music to all the popular songs and want to play them,” he recounted on his website. “My pops would show me shortcuts to playing the songs. He taught me how to just read guitar chord symbols and make up my own accompaniment instead of laboring to decipher the written accompaniment… I didn’t learn to read piano music that well, but I learned a lot about chord changes, voicings, and harmony.”
Miller entered the prestigious Laguardia School of Performing Arts—later the subject of the movie and television series Fame —where he studied the clarinet while learning to play the bass guitar on his own. He started spending more time on the bass after he formed different funk and dance bands with friends at school and in his neighborhood. After completed high school at age 16, Miller intended to continue studying the clarinet at the Mannes School of Music. In the end, however, he decided to take a more practical route and study the instrument at local Queens College while playing gigs as a bassist with local groups such as Harlem River Drive. “A couple of years into college, I was working heavy,” Miller wrote on his website. “I was doing records, commercials, and I was in the house band at Saturday Night Live (where I met [David] Sanborn). I stuck it out in college for two more years. I would go to my classes (composition, wind ensemble, business law, psych) then I would haul a** to Manhattan to do my sessions and stuff.” Finally, Miller realized, “I was burning out, so I left school and the clarinet behind to play bass full time.”
By the time he left Queens College, Miller had already made his recording debut as a bassist on drummer Lenny White’s 1976 release Big City. For the next several years, the young bassist was one of the most in-demand session players for jazz combos, R&B singers, and commercial jingles. He worked with Roberta Flack, David Sanborn, and Bobbi Humphrey, and in 1980 became a regular player in legendary jazz trumpeter Miles Davis’s lineup. Eventually, Miller became a significant collaborator in what turned out to be the final phase in Davis’s long career, producing and writing some of the compositions on Davis’s 1986 album Tutu. A transitional work that incorporates traditional and electronic jazz elements, the album was hailed by many as one of the most important jazz works of the 1980s. As Miller described it in a Jazzwise interview posted on his website, “That’s the eighties. The good part of the eighties. We were just starting to learn how to interface with these machines. There was a struggle in the States and in Africa. Things were changing. When I hear Tutu now of course there are things that I would change, but it is very clearly a product of that time.”
Miller also made his mark on the contemporary R&B scene by playing on hits such as Aretha Franklin’s “Jump to It” and “Get It Right” and Luther Vandross’s “Never Too Much.” Another song he co-wrote for Van-dross, “Power of Love/Love Power,” became a major R&B and crossover pop hit and won Miller the 1991 Grammy Award for Best R&B Song. While some critics carped at Miller’s ability to transcend genres, the artist himself was unconcerned. “When I write or play for an artist I put myself in their environment,” he told Paul Tingen of Sound on Sound. “I always play what is appropriate for the situation. I am supporting whoever the artist is, and whatever the artist wants. When I produced Luther Vandross in 1991 there were times when he told me, ‘I want a commercial record. Marcus, write me a hit song.’ So I took half an hour and put together ‘Power of Love,’ and it went to number three in the charts. I had fun, and it wasn’t like I was selling my soul. I don’t define myself by that song, and anybody who is paying enough attention won’t define me by it either.”
Jazz traditionalists were also riled by Miller’s pioneering use of electronic instruments in jazz recordings during the 1980s. The use of drum machines and synthesizers came to prominence during the decade, especially in the “smooth jazz” genre identified with Miller’s collaborator, David Sanborn. While aware of the shortcomings of electronic instruments, Miller explained to Sound on Sound that technological advances were fundamentally transforming how recordings were made. “Basically, technology makes the stuff surrounding the creation of music a little easier. It doesn’t make writing a song any easier. It doesn’t make coming up with good melodies or good bass lines any easier. But it does help you when you have to edit your seven-minute song into a four-minute single, or when you have to assemble your ten songs for the mastering house.” He added, “A lot of people blame the technology, but it’s not the technology’s fault. There are many ways to make bad music. If someone plays guitar badly, nobody blames the guitar, so why blame technology?”
In 1983 Miller released his own first album, Suddenly, and Marcus Miller followed in 1984. The musician admitted to being somewhat disappointed in the two albums, which attempted to follow along the smooth R&B and jazz lines of his session work. “I kind of short changed myself,” he told Jazzwise. “I really didn’t have a strong musical identity and maybe needed to wait a little longer. I was heavily influenced by Luther and that R&B thing so my album reflected that. I needed to hold off a little because I wasn’t really sure who I was. When I started again I had a much clearer sense of who I was and started to include a lot more jazz elements from my past.”
Miller waited almost a decade before releasing another album of his own, 1993’s The Sun Don’t Lie, which earned him a Grammy Award nomination for Best Contemporary Jazz Album. Miller returned to live performing in support of the album, which helped to restore his reputation as a leading jazz musician. Tales arrived in 1995 and continued Miller’s trend toward expanding the genre to reflect other African American musical forms. “I tried to combine the old style of soulfulness with the new hip-hop rhythm,” he explained on the PRA Records website. “There’s no real rapping, but there’s that flavor. And in the middle, I try to use the seventies as my connecting sound, the sound of Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions or Talking Book, or Earth, Wind & Fire. I’ve always combined old and new Black music. That’s what I have been about, and this is kind of a new way of looking at it.”
In 2001 Miller released M2: Power and Grace, which contains original compositions alongside jazz standards by John Coltrane and Charles Mingus and the modern rock classic by the Talking Heads, “Burning down the House.” “When I was coming up, you took the best elements of all types of music and combined them,” Miller told Billboard. “Today, it seems like a lot of music that used contemporary instrumentation does not represent the best of what the music can be.” He added, “Music today often has either power or grace, but rarely both. Martin Luther King could be strong, but he never lost a sense of beauty when he spoke. When Miles played his horn or Michael Jordan plays basketball, it is a combination of heart, soul, and mind. I try to capture that in music.” Welcomed by critics as Miller’s most exciting project as a musician yet, M2 earned the Grammy Award for Best Contemporary Jazz Album in 2002.
Selected discography
Suddenly, Warner Bros., 1983.Marcus Miller, Warner Bros., 1984.
The Sun Don’t Lie, PRA, 1993.
Tales, PRA, 1995.
Live and More, GRP, 1997.
M2: Power and Grace, Dreyfus, 2001.
Sources
Periodicals
Billboard, May 12, 2001, p. 111.Sound on Sound, July 1999.
Online
“Marcus Miller’s Biography,” PRA Records, http://prarecords.com/artists/miller/bio.html (April 17, 2002).“Marcus Miller: M2,” National Public Radio, http://www.nprjazz.org/reviews/miller.cd.html (April 17, 2002).
Marcus Miller
Official Website
http://www.marcusmiller.com (April 17, 2002).
https://www.stltoday.com/entertainment/music/musician-marcus-miller-plays-jazz-with-a-touch-of-funk/article_870a03f5-b3e0-5bdf-84d8-3a6401a56abc.html
Musician Marcus Miller plays jazz with a touch of funk
But those listeners may not realize that when they hear Miller applying his bass to Miles Davis’ “So What,” John Coltrane’s “Lonnie’s Lament” or the Gershwin evergreen “Summertime,” they’re hearing jazz.
Those are just a few of the tunes that have turned up on Miller’s albums over the years, alongside his captivating originals. And it’s possible that a couple of jazz standards will make it into the mix when the bassist and his band take the stage for a three-night engagement this week in the Jazz at the Bistro series.
“I really enjoy listening to musicians, and being able to hear their story,” Miller said. “And so it’s really important to me that you be able to hear my story.
“I’m from New York City,” he said, “where if you walked 10 blocks, you heard 10 different styles of music. As a young bass player, I was playing funk gigs, jazz gigs, Caribbean gigs, Latin gigs. And if I want to make music that tells you my story, it has to have all those elements.”
At the Bistro, Miller will be accompanied by saxophonist Alex Han, trumpeter Lee Hogans, pianist Brett Williams, guitarist Adam Agati and drummer Louis Cato. The band is touring in support of “Afrodeezia,” Miller’s debut release on the Blue Note label.
The
bassist, who now lives in Los Angeles, has at least two significant St.
Louis connections. As a performer and producer, he has famously
collaborated with both trumpeter and Alton native Miles Davis, and
saxophonist and Kirkwood native David Sanborn.
Recently, Miller produced Sanborn’s new album, “Time and the River” — resuming the role he had fulfilled on such pop-jazz albums of the 1980s and ’90s as “Straight to the Heart,” “Close-Up” and “Inside.”
“Being in the studio — we hadn’t done that for a while,” Miller said. “So it was really nice.” Not that the album, which on some tracks has a world-music feel, is a mere rehash of past glories: “Making an album that sounded like what we did in the ’80s and ’90s would really be like going in a closet and putting on our old clothes,” he said. “David wanted something really warm and personal, and I think it’s a good reflection of that.”
“Afrodeezia,” which Miller also produced, has a more explicitly global focus. The album was inspired by the bassist’s work with UNESCO as an Artist for Peace, and as a spokesman for the organization’s Slave Route Project.
The goal of the project, Miller said, is to “raise awareness of the story of slavery, particularly among young people who might not be aware of the details.
Rather
than keeping his work with UNESCO separate from his music, Miller
decided to combine the two. Accordingly, the album is themed to the
transatlantic slave trade and was recorded around the world — including
sessions in Morocco, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, New Orleans and Los Angeles.
As a result, the musical has a beguilingly international flavor.
“I figured it would be a nice way to make the connection without preaching to people,” Miller said. “To show them how these influences are connected.” On the album, Miller’s core band is augmented by an eclectic lineup of performers including jazz pianist Robert Glasper, rapper Chuck D, blues singer-guitarist Keb’ Mo,’ vocalist Lalah Hathaway and musicians from Africa, South America and the Caribbean.
Although the album represents a new direction for Miller, it’s not his first foray into international affairs.
“As far back as the ’80s, I wrote a song called ‘Tutu’ for Miles Davis,” he said. Named for Desmond Tutu, a South African anti-apartheid activist, the tune would become the title track of Davis’ 1986 debut album on Warner Brothers after a three-decade stint on Columbia Records.
Miller had already been a member of Davis’ band, signing up when the trumpeter re-emerged on the jazz scene after a period of semi-retirement in the 1970s.
“Miles was very keen on finding young, up-and-coming musicians,” the bassist said. “I’d heard rumblings that Miles was coming out of retirement. But you can never believe rumblings.”
That is, he couldn’t until he got a phone call. From Davis.
“He said, ‘Look, I’m going in the studio.’ I said, ‘When?’
“And he said, ‘In two hours. Can you be there?’
“And I said, ‘Yeah.’”
Marcus Miller
When • 7:30 and 9:30 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday
Where • Ferring Jazz Bistro, 3536 Washington Boulevard
How much • $45; students, $15
https://en.unesco.org/news/marcus-miller-singing-freedom
Marcus Miller: singing freedom
UNESCO
When
renowned American Jazz musician Marcus Miller visited the island of
Gorée, the slave-trading enclave that lies off the cost of Senegal, he
decided to give voice to the thousands of shackled souls that had passed
through the fortress on this slab of volcanic rock as well pay homage
to their descendents.
Standing in the La Maison Des Esclaves" ("The Slave
House") a few years ago the two time Grammy Award winning Brooklyn
native recalls passing through a door that faced the sea.
“The door was called, “La Porte De Non Retour (“The
Door Of No Return”) because, once these Africans went through that door
and onto the slave ship, their lives as Africans were over,” says Miller
a designated UNESCO Artist for Peace.
“I decided to write a piece about what we were
feeling standing there in that slave house. As I was writing, I was
struck by the idea that the “Door Of No Return”, which represented the
end of their African experience, was also, in a certain way, the
beginning of our African-American experience. At that point, I decided
to not make the piece just about the pain and anger we were feeling,
standing there in that slave house. I decided to make it also a
celebration of the ability of human beings to transcend horrible
beginnings and turn them into something positive.”
Miller, a composer, producer, and radio host who is
best known for his mastery of the bass guitar and his musical
association with preeminent artists Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Wayne
Shorter, Luther Vandross and David Sanborn, named the musical
composition, Gorée.
“For me it is a song of pain and suffering, transcendence and progress which continues as we speak, “ he says.
On 22 March Miller performed Gorée at the United
Nations in a concert as part of events leading up to The International
Day of Remembrance for the Victims of Slavery and the Transatlantic
Slave Trade (25 March). The theme of the 2013 International Day --
"Forever Free: Celebrating Emancipation" -- pays tribute to the
struggle for emancipation of enslaved peoples across the world,
including in the United States, celebrating this year its 150th
anniversary.
The concert took place in the United Nations General
Assembly and the musical programme followed the slave trade route,
starting with artists from Africa, then the Caribbean and North
America. In addition to Miller there were performances by the National
Ballet of Cameroon, Benyoro (a West African band), Somi (an American
singer of Rwandan and Ugandan origins) and Steel Pulse (an English
reggae band of Afro-Caribbean, Indian and Asian descent).
The International Day of Remembrance for the Victims
of Slavery and the Transatlantic Slave Trade serves as an opportunity
to honor and remember those who suffered and died at the hands of the
brutal slavery system, and to raise awareness about the dangers of
racism and prejudice today.
“For UNESCO, remembrance is a key part of the fight
against racism, and it is essential for deepening respect for human
rights and dignity,” said Irina Bokova UNESCO Director-General.
“Remembering and transmitting the history of the transatlantic slave
trade and slavery helps strengthen the foundations for peace within
societies and between them.”
“To help disseminate this message, I have designated
Marcus Miller as a UNESCO Artist for Peace. An outstanding ambassador
for creativity and freedom, resistance and resilience, Marcus Miller
with help promote the UNESCO Slave Route Project and underpin all our
efforts to build peace through dialogue, respect and solidarity –
drawing on the great, generous spirit of jazz,” Bokova said.
“Music is such a beautiful way to tell stories. And
in my mind, the stories we need to tell are the ones that depict the
human struggle for dignity and equality. They inspire our youth and let
them know that they are part of a book that has had many chapters. I'm
looking forward to working with UNESCO in order to have access to the
millions of people who really need to hear these stories,” Miller said.
The official ceremony to designate him a UNESCO
Artist for Peace will take place at UNESCO Headquarters in Paris on 4
July 2013. In his new capacity, Marcus Miller will support UNESCO’s
Slave Route Project and will focus on promoting peace, dialogue, and
unity through jazz.
“I've played music for people all over the world and
I've been able to communicate things with music that would be very hard
to communicate through words. When thousands of people are moving
together, grooving together, it becomes so obvious how similar we all
are. We have so much more in common than we have differences. I'm sure
that, by working with UNESCO, we can open doors to communication with
music - and then introduce the words, that will help us promote peace,
and unity.”
About this Artist
World-renowned composer, producer, arranger and
jazz bassist Marcus Miller is our musical director for the presentation
of Black Movie Soundtrack III at the Hollywood Bowl. At the top of his
game for over 30 years, Miller is a two-time Grammy award winner and the
recipient of multiple international awards in jazz including Holland’s
2013 Edison Lifetime Achievement award and the 2010 Victoire du Jazz
award in France.
Miller’s characteristic sound can be heard on a limitless catalog of hits from Bill Wither’s “Just The Two Of Us” to Luther Vandross’ “Never Too Much”, to countless songs recorded by Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, David Sanborn, Wayne Shorter, George Benson, Elton John, Chaka Khan, Al Jarreau, Herbie Hancock, Lalah Hathaway, Eric Clapton, and Bryan Ferry to name a few. With his distinctive style - a unique combination of funk, groove, soul and pure technical skills, Miller has been referred to as one of the most influential bass players of this generation.
Miller is most known for his long resume of collaborations including a 15-year song-writing and production partnership with Luther Vandross, which resulted in 13 consecutive platinum-selling albums and a dual Grammy win in 1992 for the double platinum selling album Power Of Love/Love Power. Most notable, Marcus was the last primary collaborator for the late great jazz legend Miles Davis, composing, arranging and producing three albums for Davis including the now legendary album recording, Tutu. The title song, which Miller wrote in honor of South African activist Bishop Desmond Tutu, has become a contemporary jazz standard, and is often described as one of Davis’ most significant contributions to the canon of contemporary jazz. Not only did the album win two Grammy awards, it is widely considered to be one of the definitive Miles Davis albums of our time.
Miller also has an endless list of TV and film composition credits. In addition to writing the go-go mega-hit “Da Butt” for Spike Lee’s School Daze in 1988, Miller has composed the scores for over 30 urban films including the Reginald Hudlin cult-classic House Party (feat. Kid ‘N Play - 1990); Boomerang (feat. Eddie Murphy and Halle Berry - 1992) ; Above The Rim (feat. Tupac Shakur and Marlon Wayans -1994); Two Can Play That Game (feat. Vivica Fox, Gabrielle Union, Morris Chestnut and Anthony Anderson - 2001); This Christmas (feat. Idris Elba and Chris Brown - 2007); the Chris Rock cult classic Good Hair (2009); and About Last Night (feat. Kevin Hart and Regina Bell - 2014). Most recently, Miller composed the score for the Oscar-nominated film Marshall (2017), also directed by Reginald Hudlin and starring Black Panther’s leading man Chadwick Boseman as a young Thurgood Marshall. The film won the 2017 Chicago International Film Festival award; the 2017 African American Film Critics Award; the 2017 Hollywood Film Festival Award, and was also a 2017 Image and Critics Choice Award nominee and received five NAACP Image Award nominations.
Throughout all of this, Miller has maintained a successful solo career releasing ten critically acclaimed albums under his own name, all of which have earned Grammy nods, including his current release Laid Black.
Miller is a significant presence on the international jazz scene, touring to sold-out audiences around the world. He broadcasts two weekly radio shows, Miller Time With Marcus Miller (affectionately known as “The Marcus Party” by his listeners) which airs on Sunday evenings on Sirius XM and Transatlantic Jazz With Marcus Miller, which broadcasts each Wednesday in the U.K. on Jazz FM.
https://jazztimes.com/features/profiles/marcus-miller-new-york-state-of-mind/
Marcus Miller stretches out in an office chair,
trademark hat on his head, a contented smile on his face. Keyboards,
monitors and assorted electronic gear are all within easy reach for
another night in the cozy, cluttered Santa Monica rooms that serve as
his primary work space.
“Actually,” he says with a laugh, “I used to have a real studio here. But then, after a while, I realized I only used it about four times a year, because a lot of my composing work is right in there.”
He points to the case containing his laptop computer. “So now,” he continues, “I just have my little apartment, and I work here whenever I need the room. I don’t need much space.”
It helps that the digs are only a few miles away from the Brentwood home he shares with his wife, Brenda, and their four children. All of which seems like a surprisingly stereotypical Los Angeles lifestyle for a deeply rooted New Yorker. “I know, I know,” he says. “I just started admitting I live out here four or five years ago, even though we’ve been here for 14 years. I guess it’s obvious that I’m from New York, and my whole lifetime perspective and orientation are from New York.”
The transition took place while he was producing and playing for his close friend and longtime musical associate Luther Vandross. “When it was time to do his next record,” recalls Miller, “he said, ‘I want to do it in L.A.’ And he put me in a hotel. But pop records can take a long time to do, so I was in the hotel for three or four months.”
When the next recording came along, Miller turned down a full service hotel room in favor of a house rental. “It was the only way to go,” he explains. “Because the last time when I went away, when I came back my son was walking, and he wasn’t walking when I left. And you don’t want that to happen. So I brought the family out, we put the kids in school, and our roots started growing into the ground. Then I got a call to do an Eddie Murphy movie, we stayed longer than we thought, and the next thing you know we were looking around to find a place to buy.”
Despite his decade-plus residence in La-La Land, Miller retains the fast-charged pace of his native city. Speaking quickly, dashing from thought to thought, he admits that, like many former New Yorkers, he often feels like a stranger in a strange land.
But the musical diversity that is at the heart of who he is as an artist hasn’t changed at all. And the far-ranging selections on his new Concord album, Marcus, underscore his quest for versatility, as well as the occasional apprehension he feels when he actually achieves it. “I was always a little nervous about showing people too much of myself,” he says. “My thing is so broad that it can be hard to digest in one sitting. Even when I try to describe in words what I do, it takes a long time. So, musically, you can imagine what it’s like. I decided that what I needed to do was show them the bass, then open it up, show the compositions, show the other instruments, then show what else I can do-but slowly.
“My first instrumental record was in ’90-’91; now it’s 2008, and there’s still a kind of contemporary-jazz basis-whatever you want to call it-in what I’m doing. But then, I can’t deny that soulful R&B side of myself, either. So this album has a little bit of all that in it.”
But what about the potential problem awaiting most albums that attempt to offer a far-reaching menu of tunes-even such successful items as Herbie Hancock’s Possibilities and River-like the chance of producing something resembling an eclectic radio show? Miller smiles: “Sure. That or something like a travelogue. But I think I’m confident enough about my own voice now, my own sound and my own perspective, that I’m not as fearful about opening it up and going where I want to go without worrying about it.”
Toward that end, the album includes song tracks by Leila Hathaway, Keb’ Mo’ and Corinne Bailey Rae. Miller is particularly happy about Rae’s contribution to his version of the 1976 Deniece Williams hit, “Free.” “I first heard Corinne on the radio,” he says. “It was a distinctive voice, and I don’t hear distinctive voices on the radio anymore. Who is this person? I thought. So I pulled over and made some calls to find out who she was. Luckily, I found out that she was a fan, and she said she’d love to do a collaboration.”
There’s a more unlikely collaboration on the album as well. Actress and vocalist Taraji P. Henson, who appeared in 2005’s Hustle & Flow and sang with Three 6 Mafia on that film’s Academy Award-winning number, “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp,” does a spoken word take on one of two versions of Robin Thicke’s “Lost Without You” (the other, contrastingly, features Hathaway’s vocal with Miller’s basslines). “I did half my songs, and half cover songs,” explains Miller. “I like covers because everybody knows them, and then, whatever you change, that’s how they can figure out who you are by what you change.”
The question, from a different perspective, is what a jazz listener can figure out about Miller from the new recording. He is, after all, a former close associate of Miles Davis who was deeply involved in some seminal electric-jazz recordings, as well as a player who roved freely across the contemporary jazz landscape.
He leans back to consider the question for a moment, a brisk articulate reply not surfacing quite so quickly this time. “I think,” he finally says, “that it’s my first album that really has the potential to be picked up on both sides. On the jazz side, I do ‘When I Fall in Love’ on bass clarinet, which features Gregoire Maret on harmonica. But then I also have Corinne. So it’s straddling, like I’ve always been doing. But it’s unapologetic. It’s up to people how they want to take it.”
That has usually been the case with his past efforts. Miller has never limited himself just to the familiar boulevards of mainstream jazz. Always linked to pop, R&B and soul music, always at the cutting edge of the latest electronic developments, his early work with David Sanborn clearly influenced the evolution of smooth-jazz, he is one of the pioneering practitioners of the electric bass, and he has brought more visibility to the bass clarinet than anyone since Eric Dolphy. And if the new recording says anything about Miller beyond his stylistic diversity, it affirms his belief in the continuing viability of articulate musicianship and groove-oriented, electric-instrument swing.
“Somebody like myself, you get tired of having to pull your punches,” he says. “When I was young, my inspiration was Herbie Hancock. It was Chick Corea, John Coltrane-all those people who didn’t limit themselves. That was how I got kind of initialized. You do everything you can possibly do. That was how I got introduced to music. You experience everything in the world, and then you bring it all back into one beautiful thing.”
It’s a comment that’s typical of the multi-layered thoughtfulness that characterizes Miller’s conversation. Interviews with jazz musicians can often drift into anecdotes about gigs, tunes, women and reminiscences. Miller isn’t lacking for anecdotal material, but when he uses it, it’s usually to make a point about his life view. More often, he seizes an idea and turns it around in his mind like a Rubik’s cube, eager to clarify and synchronize all its facets.
Typically, a question about the musical credibility of the sounds that surfaced in the ’90s leads to some fascinating observations about music as a manifestation of time and place. “What were you supposed to do,” he says, “when everything got polarized in the ’90s? Hold your hands up to your ears when the hip-hop’s playing, or do you just feel like you need to put barriers up around yourself? To me, music is supposed to reflect the world. When you put my album on 50 years from now, you should go, ‘OK, I get it. I can imagine what it was like then.’ You put on a Duke Ellington record, my dad right away goes, ‘They used to dance like this.’ If you hear a Miles Davis record from the ’50s, it sounds like the ’50s. No question about it. And if you hear Herbie Hancock’s Head Hunters, it sounds like the ’70s. But you still love it, right now, in 2008. And that’s what the music should do. It should tell you what was going on.”
Perhaps inevitably, the thought, the notion of music as the soundtrack for life and era, recalls Miller’s association with Davis. “Sure, same thing with Miles,” he replies. One time I said to him, “What do you think about young trumpeters playing just like you did 25 years ago?’ And what did he say? He said, ‘You know what I think about that? Bellbottom pants.’ I knew exactly what he meant. For him, music was tied to the times. It didn’t exist in a vacuum. He made music for suits in the ’50s. For bell-bottoms in the ’60s.”
Miller didn’t assign a sartorial label to Davis’ music of the ’80s, music that was as powerfully impacted by the presence of Miller’s arrangements, soundscapes and production as recordings such as Sketches of Spain and Miles Ahead were framed by the orchestrations of Gil Evans. The case has been made, correctly, for the Miller-driven recordings Tutu (1986) and Amandla (1989) as the final important chapter in the chronicle of Davis’ creative stages of development. Miller intuited the notion that Davis’ great strength had always been his capacity to gather in the cultural currents streaming around him at any given point in time, and transform them, through the filters of his own creative imagination, into incredibly timely musical manifestations.
Miller puts it in more direct terms, subtly inferential about the unspoken, mutual admiration between the then-60-something Davis and the 20-something Miller. “Miles was hip in the most beautiful, positive sense of the word,” he explains. “I mean ‘hip’ has come to mean kind of shallow. But in the bebop days, the reason he came from St. Louis to New York was to be with the hip cats. ‘Hip’ meant intellectually advanced, rhythmically urgent, sexual, everything. It was the whole ball of wax, everything that was good in music. That’s what he wanted to be connected with. And I think for the rest of his life that’s what he looked for. What is really hip? The stuff that Tony Williams brought to the band in the ’60s; that was hip. The Sly and James Brown stuff; that was hip.
“But he was also like a kid in the way he heard something new. He would be like, ‘Marcus, I heard this thing on the radio, what is it, man?’ And I’d go, ‘Oh, yeah, they’re not using a snare,’ and he’d say, ‘Well, let’s do something like that.’ He had that kind of pure enthusiasm. And that’s how I want to be-just keep that enthusiasm, but know that you’ve got all this knowledge behind you to back it up. So if you need to, you can always dig into your well.”
The most prominent items in Miller’s well are his electric bass, his bass clarinet and his skills as a producer/arranger/composer. The electric bass came first.
When he arrived on the New York music scene in the late ’70s, barely out of his teens, he was, as he describes it, “on the cusp” of the instrument’s arrival. Innovative bassists such as Jaco Pastorius, Stanley Clarke and Larry Graham Jr. were between eight to 15 years older, leaving Miller “just kind of behind the frontline” of what was for all intents and purposes a new instrument.
He came to the electric bass at the age of 13. Although he had been studying the clarinet since he was a child, everything changed when he heard the Jackson Five. “I saw guys my age and they were already professionals creating excitement,” says Miller. “And I said, ‘OK, now wait. I’d better get serious about this.’
“I didn’t know that the electric bass guitar was brand new,” he continues, “that it had only been around for maybe 10 years or so before I heard it. I just wanted to play an instrument to be in a band. So I picked up the bass guitar. And it ended up being a golden age to be a bass guitar player-Stanley Clarke, Sting. And they were all leading their own bands. Bootsy Collins. Tower of Power had a great bass player. Louis Johnson from the Brothers Johnson. Jaco came and did his thing. It was a golden age, a pretty exciting time to learn the electric bass.”
Miller learned it so well, and so quickly, that he was busy playing professional gigs by the time he was going to college (majoring in music and business administration). His family was supportive; his father, a pianist and organist himself, even gave Miller some Miles Davis albums. Well aware of all the negative clichés about the jazz world, his father’s only insistence was that he go to college.
When Lenny White asked Miller to go on the road with his fusion band, Miller’s father said, “Why don’t you do it? Take a semester off. That way you can go and experience it. But you have to promise that you’ll go back to school.”
Miller found the road tempting, with its new places, new faces and total immersion in the music. Nevertheless he kept his word, returning to school for two more years. But balancing school obligations at Queens College with a full schedule of gigs in Manhattan wasn’t easy. “Sometimes I’d leave a studio at midnight,” he says, “drive to the campus to get a good parking space, and then get in the back seat and sleep with my portable alarm clock so I wouldn’t miss my 8 o’clock class.”
“[Drummer] Ralph MacDonald caught me one afternoon,” he continues, “and said, ‘Man, we had a Coca-Cola commercial that’s going national. Where were you?’ I told him, ‘Man, my English teacher said that if I didn’t take this final test she was going to fail me for the semester.’ And he said, ‘English?! Go back and ask her how much she makes a year. You coulda made that this morning.'”
At that point, Miller finally began to accept the fact that he wasn’t “a flash in the pan,” which had been his father’s biggest worry. The young bassist saw that this career he was stumbling into could actually have a future, creatively and financially.
Miller went to his father and said, “Dad, I can’t do this anymore. I have to take advantage of these opportunities.” His father understood and approved Miller’s decision to drop out of school and dive full-time into the life of a musician. And it didn’t hurt that, a week later, he was playing at Radio City Music Hall with Roberta Flack. “Roberta used to be a school teacher herself,” says Miller. “She pulled my dad aside, put on her teacher vibe and said, ‘Mr. Miller, I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. I value education, too. But your son is a supremely talented musician, and he’s going to be doing this for a long time.'”
It was, of course, a startlingly prophetic evaluation. In the next few years, Miller’s stinging fretless basslines drove the rhythm on more than 400 recordings by, to name some of the headliners, Elton John, Frank Sinatra, Mariah Carey, McCoy Tyner, Joe Sample, Bill Withers and LL Cool J. He also worked with Aretha Franklin, Flack, Grover Washington Jr., Bob James and David Sanborn.
In the midst of all that activity, he discovered the next vital element in his well of skills, the bass clarinet. “When I was in a studio one day,” he recalls, “I accidentally saw some music written in the treble clef. And I said to myself, ‘Wow, that’s crazy. Every time I see treble clef music, my hands move to clarinet fingering, unconsciously. It’s a shame that I just kind of let go of all those years I studied the clarinet.’
“So I said to my wife, ‘One day I’m going to get myself a bass clarinet. Because I can’t imagine a B-flat clarinet in the music I do. But a bass clarinet-nobody plays that.’ I mean, I was really just talking trash. I wasn’t really going to do it. But then, for Christmas, there’s a bass clarinet under the tree. I put it together and it squawked and honked. It was a nasty sounding Christmas, but it was the start of something.”
That beginning involved buying a bunch of bass clarinet recordings by Eric Dolphy and Benny Maupin-and then introducing it to Miles Davis. “I played it for him,” says Miller, grinning in memory, “and he said, ‘Man, you found your instrument.’ I said, ‘What are you talking about? I got my instrument. I’m a bass player.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, but you know what I mean.’ And, yeah, I did know what he meant. He meant that I was always looking for an instrument, a secondary instrument that I could play melody [on], where it wouldn’t be such an event. When you play melody on the bass it’s always, ‘Oh, look, the bass is playing the melody.’ On a horn, it’s not a big deal. So you can focus on the melody, not the instrument.”
Perhaps so, but when Miller is playing the bass clarinet, it can be almost impossible to resist the dark, plangent blend of sounds and emotion that he produces. At one session with Davis, Miller overdubbed a line Davis was playing. “It made it really snaky,” says Miller, “because I’d played it two octaves below Miles’ line-the sound of the trumpet and bass clarinet, which is so unusual, especially at that distance from each other. I just fell in love with the instrument. It’s got the range of a man’s voice, from real low to falsetto, it sounds wooden and it’s a nice contrast to my metallic style on the bass guitar.”
It is when it’s played right, that is, which is not always the case. It also has the capacity to produce honking, woofing, blurry sounds, as well as the lovely timbres achieved by Miller. Does Miller have a bass clarinet trade secret?
He slyly waves an index finger, leans over conspiratorially and says, “Well, I’ll tell you this. I was having a lot of difficulty with it early on because I just couldn’t seem to control it from night to night. Some nights it would be great, lots of wood, and some nights it wouldn’t. Then Benny Maupin came to my show at Catalina’s. He handed me something and said-he was very brief-‘This’ll change your life.’ I said, ‘Really?’ And he said, ‘Take it.’ And he gave me a plastic reed called the Bari.
“If you’re an orchestral guy you never use plastic reeds because the tone’s a little bright and it can make you stick out like a sore thumb. But I put it on my bass clarinet and it just felt right. And it’s plastic, so I didn’t have to change it for five years. I saw Benny five years later and said, ‘You know, I still have the reed you gave me.’ And he said, ‘OK. Here’s your next one.” And he gave me another one. So I had Benny Maupin’s reeds on my horn for 10 years.”
That added yet another useful color to Miller’s creative palette. His work as a producer has demanded, and enhanced, the use of all the elements in his well of musical skills. With credits reaching from Miles and Vandross to Wayne Shorter, Sanborn and Bob James, as well as his own constantly diversifying outings, he has arguably been one of the most influential recording studio forces for more than two decades.
He’s done so, he feels, by understanding that his role as a producer is “simply to help them tell the story and then get out of the way.” That’s easier said than done, of course. Is it ever possible, one wonders, for a functioning, effective producer to actually get out of the way?
Miller shrugs, then nods. “Well, OK,” he begins, “you listen to the records and you know that I was there. But whatever I did was always done in order to serve the music, even if it was a distinctive way of doing it. You hear the bass and, sure, you know it’s Marcus. But I wasn’t putting my bass on so that everybody would go there because it was Marcus. I was doing the best I could to make the song sound better. Because the song, the piece of music, is always the king.”
He mentions what he describes as “old-school producers,” whose job it was to simply make Frank Sinatra sound like Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin sound like Aretha Franklin, as well as the exceptions who usually triggered the response “Oh, that’s Phil Spector,” or “Oh, that’s George Martin.”
“Things began to change in the ’80s, though,” says Miller. “Producers became more famous and they started having their own sound. Sometimes the artist wasn’t even as important as the producer. If you think about Trevor Horn, his stuff was all about Trevor Horn. It could have been Grace Jones, but it could have been anybody singing. I think I’ve been a little bit old-school, a little contemporary. Situations would come up where the artist said, ‘Look I need your voice as well’-with David Sanborn, with Miles when we did Tutu. It was like they were saying, ‘I want some more input,’ and I was glad to provide it. So I’ve been fortunate enough to be in both situations.”
Fortunate enough, and skillful enough, since a good part of Miller’s numerous achievements trace to his work ethic and his omnivorous musical curiosity-his desire to be on the cutting edge with the tools of his trade. As we continue our conversation, he looks around at the various pieces of gear within arm’s reach of his chair, describing the good qualities of some, the thorny qualities of another. And he constantly mentions his awe at the pace at which sound technology has developed.
“About 10 years ago,” he explains, “I had a movie that I had to complete and I was traveling. Well, I had an extra guy travel with me to Europe, just to carry my two Anvil cases with the VHS tape recorders, the synthesizers and all that stuff. The next time, because of the technology advances, I only had to bring one Anvil case. The next time I just brought a big suitcase. And now”-he pats his laptop-“my studio is this. And I’m telling you I have everything. I have a full orchestra here”-he holds up a box of CD-ROM discs-“and all I have to do is grab a keyboard wherever I am.”
Beyond the technology, however, beyond his adept skills as a player, beyond his imaginative production ideas and his capacity to interact creatively with other artists, beyond his sheer, innate talent, Miller’s career successes come down to a foundation based on three elements.
The first is his view of what it means to be a musician. “I always talk about the importance of musicians reaching level three,” he says. “Level one is not knowing much. Level two is knowing everything. And level three is knowing everything but being able to forget it and play naturally. Luther was at level three. He knew it all. He knew when he was singing sharp. And sometimes he’d stay sharp because, emotionally, sharp was going to get the job done.
“Miles was, too. He heard music like a regular guy, reacted to it like a regular guy. So even if he had Wayne and Herbie and Ron Carter and Tony Williams in his band, he knew how to keep it attached to the earth. He knew how to say, ‘Hey, guys, we’re gettin’ a little too far out. Lemme play a couple of quarter notes.’ [He vocalizes Miles’ trumpet playing a string of quarter notes.] And everybody says, ‘Oh, yeah, here we are.’ And everything focuses. He was amazing that way.”
The second is the solidity of his role as a parent and a husband. “My family’s my foundation,” says Miller. “They keep me connected to the real world. I can travel all over the world [and] get all that appreciation from all those music lovers, but there’s nothing like the appreciation you get from home. … My wife taught me how to listen to music as a normal person. … I had been a musician so long, I would automatically listen four levels deep in a song.”
And the third is the love of music and the sense of self he received from his parents. “My dad is a pianist and an organist,” Miller says. “He played organ for his father’s church in Brooklyn, alternating Sundays with his cousin, who was Wynton Kelly. After the services we all went down to the basement of the church and performed. Everyone would play or sing. That was my life. When my father wasn’t playing Beethoven or Bach or church music, my mother was playing Ray Charles records.
“My dad’s still around, still doing his thing, but my mom passed about four years ago. They were the kind of parents who would be, ‘You have to study because there are so many great things that you’re going to be doing.’ It wasn’t an encouragement; it was a given. It wasn’t even like a question. It was like I was going to be doing great things.
“I know a lot of people,” Miller concludes, “who didn’t do much. And the only difference between myself and them is that kind of mentality, that way of looking at the world, that my parents instilled in me.”
Gearbox
Miller’s main bass is a 1977 Fender Jazz bass his mother bought him that year. In 1998 Fender released a copy of this bass (including the modifications he made to it over the years) as the Marcus Miller Signature model. In addition to the Signature, Miller plays other Fender Jazz basses from time to time-a ’75, a ’78, a ’64 and a fretless ’62.
Miller uses EBS and SWR amps, DR strings, and EBS and Dunlop effects, and performs on a Selmer Paris bass clarinet and a Cannonball soprano sax.
Originally Published
Miller’s characteristic sound can be heard on a limitless catalog of hits from Bill Wither’s “Just The Two Of Us” to Luther Vandross’ “Never Too Much”, to countless songs recorded by Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, David Sanborn, Wayne Shorter, George Benson, Elton John, Chaka Khan, Al Jarreau, Herbie Hancock, Lalah Hathaway, Eric Clapton, and Bryan Ferry to name a few. With his distinctive style - a unique combination of funk, groove, soul and pure technical skills, Miller has been referred to as one of the most influential bass players of this generation.
Miller is most known for his long resume of collaborations including a 15-year song-writing and production partnership with Luther Vandross, which resulted in 13 consecutive platinum-selling albums and a dual Grammy win in 1992 for the double platinum selling album Power Of Love/Love Power. Most notable, Marcus was the last primary collaborator for the late great jazz legend Miles Davis, composing, arranging and producing three albums for Davis including the now legendary album recording, Tutu. The title song, which Miller wrote in honor of South African activist Bishop Desmond Tutu, has become a contemporary jazz standard, and is often described as one of Davis’ most significant contributions to the canon of contemporary jazz. Not only did the album win two Grammy awards, it is widely considered to be one of the definitive Miles Davis albums of our time.
Miller also has an endless list of TV and film composition credits. In addition to writing the go-go mega-hit “Da Butt” for Spike Lee’s School Daze in 1988, Miller has composed the scores for over 30 urban films including the Reginald Hudlin cult-classic House Party (feat. Kid ‘N Play - 1990); Boomerang (feat. Eddie Murphy and Halle Berry - 1992) ; Above The Rim (feat. Tupac Shakur and Marlon Wayans -1994); Two Can Play That Game (feat. Vivica Fox, Gabrielle Union, Morris Chestnut and Anthony Anderson - 2001); This Christmas (feat. Idris Elba and Chris Brown - 2007); the Chris Rock cult classic Good Hair (2009); and About Last Night (feat. Kevin Hart and Regina Bell - 2014). Most recently, Miller composed the score for the Oscar-nominated film Marshall (2017), also directed by Reginald Hudlin and starring Black Panther’s leading man Chadwick Boseman as a young Thurgood Marshall. The film won the 2017 Chicago International Film Festival award; the 2017 African American Film Critics Award; the 2017 Hollywood Film Festival Award, and was also a 2017 Image and Critics Choice Award nominee and received five NAACP Image Award nominations.
Throughout all of this, Miller has maintained a successful solo career releasing ten critically acclaimed albums under his own name, all of which have earned Grammy nods, including his current release Laid Black.
Miller is a significant presence on the international jazz scene, touring to sold-out audiences around the world. He broadcasts two weekly radio shows, Miller Time With Marcus Miller (affectionately known as “The Marcus Party” by his listeners) which airs on Sunday evenings on Sirius XM and Transatlantic Jazz With Marcus Miller, which broadcasts each Wednesday in the U.K. on Jazz FM.
https://jazztimes.com/features/profiles/marcus-miller-new-york-state-of-mind/
Marcus Miller: New York State of Mind
“Actually,” he says with a laugh, “I used to have a real studio here. But then, after a while, I realized I only used it about four times a year, because a lot of my composing work is right in there.”
He points to the case containing his laptop computer. “So now,” he continues, “I just have my little apartment, and I work here whenever I need the room. I don’t need much space.”
It helps that the digs are only a few miles away from the Brentwood home he shares with his wife, Brenda, and their four children. All of which seems like a surprisingly stereotypical Los Angeles lifestyle for a deeply rooted New Yorker. “I know, I know,” he says. “I just started admitting I live out here four or five years ago, even though we’ve been here for 14 years. I guess it’s obvious that I’m from New York, and my whole lifetime perspective and orientation are from New York.”
The transition took place while he was producing and playing for his close friend and longtime musical associate Luther Vandross. “When it was time to do his next record,” recalls Miller, “he said, ‘I want to do it in L.A.’ And he put me in a hotel. But pop records can take a long time to do, so I was in the hotel for three or four months.”
When the next recording came along, Miller turned down a full service hotel room in favor of a house rental. “It was the only way to go,” he explains. “Because the last time when I went away, when I came back my son was walking, and he wasn’t walking when I left. And you don’t want that to happen. So I brought the family out, we put the kids in school, and our roots started growing into the ground. Then I got a call to do an Eddie Murphy movie, we stayed longer than we thought, and the next thing you know we were looking around to find a place to buy.”
Despite his decade-plus residence in La-La Land, Miller retains the fast-charged pace of his native city. Speaking quickly, dashing from thought to thought, he admits that, like many former New Yorkers, he often feels like a stranger in a strange land.
But the musical diversity that is at the heart of who he is as an artist hasn’t changed at all. And the far-ranging selections on his new Concord album, Marcus, underscore his quest for versatility, as well as the occasional apprehension he feels when he actually achieves it. “I was always a little nervous about showing people too much of myself,” he says. “My thing is so broad that it can be hard to digest in one sitting. Even when I try to describe in words what I do, it takes a long time. So, musically, you can imagine what it’s like. I decided that what I needed to do was show them the bass, then open it up, show the compositions, show the other instruments, then show what else I can do-but slowly.
“My first instrumental record was in ’90-’91; now it’s 2008, and there’s still a kind of contemporary-jazz basis-whatever you want to call it-in what I’m doing. But then, I can’t deny that soulful R&B side of myself, either. So this album has a little bit of all that in it.”
But what about the potential problem awaiting most albums that attempt to offer a far-reaching menu of tunes-even such successful items as Herbie Hancock’s Possibilities and River-like the chance of producing something resembling an eclectic radio show? Miller smiles: “Sure. That or something like a travelogue. But I think I’m confident enough about my own voice now, my own sound and my own perspective, that I’m not as fearful about opening it up and going where I want to go without worrying about it.”
Toward that end, the album includes song tracks by Leila Hathaway, Keb’ Mo’ and Corinne Bailey Rae. Miller is particularly happy about Rae’s contribution to his version of the 1976 Deniece Williams hit, “Free.” “I first heard Corinne on the radio,” he says. “It was a distinctive voice, and I don’t hear distinctive voices on the radio anymore. Who is this person? I thought. So I pulled over and made some calls to find out who she was. Luckily, I found out that she was a fan, and she said she’d love to do a collaboration.”
There’s a more unlikely collaboration on the album as well. Actress and vocalist Taraji P. Henson, who appeared in 2005’s Hustle & Flow and sang with Three 6 Mafia on that film’s Academy Award-winning number, “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp,” does a spoken word take on one of two versions of Robin Thicke’s “Lost Without You” (the other, contrastingly, features Hathaway’s vocal with Miller’s basslines). “I did half my songs, and half cover songs,” explains Miller. “I like covers because everybody knows them, and then, whatever you change, that’s how they can figure out who you are by what you change.”
The question, from a different perspective, is what a jazz listener can figure out about Miller from the new recording. He is, after all, a former close associate of Miles Davis who was deeply involved in some seminal electric-jazz recordings, as well as a player who roved freely across the contemporary jazz landscape.
He leans back to consider the question for a moment, a brisk articulate reply not surfacing quite so quickly this time. “I think,” he finally says, “that it’s my first album that really has the potential to be picked up on both sides. On the jazz side, I do ‘When I Fall in Love’ on bass clarinet, which features Gregoire Maret on harmonica. But then I also have Corinne. So it’s straddling, like I’ve always been doing. But it’s unapologetic. It’s up to people how they want to take it.”
That has usually been the case with his past efforts. Miller has never limited himself just to the familiar boulevards of mainstream jazz. Always linked to pop, R&B and soul music, always at the cutting edge of the latest electronic developments, his early work with David Sanborn clearly influenced the evolution of smooth-jazz, he is one of the pioneering practitioners of the electric bass, and he has brought more visibility to the bass clarinet than anyone since Eric Dolphy. And if the new recording says anything about Miller beyond his stylistic diversity, it affirms his belief in the continuing viability of articulate musicianship and groove-oriented, electric-instrument swing.
“Somebody like myself, you get tired of having to pull your punches,” he says. “When I was young, my inspiration was Herbie Hancock. It was Chick Corea, John Coltrane-all those people who didn’t limit themselves. That was how I got kind of initialized. You do everything you can possibly do. That was how I got introduced to music. You experience everything in the world, and then you bring it all back into one beautiful thing.”
It’s a comment that’s typical of the multi-layered thoughtfulness that characterizes Miller’s conversation. Interviews with jazz musicians can often drift into anecdotes about gigs, tunes, women and reminiscences. Miller isn’t lacking for anecdotal material, but when he uses it, it’s usually to make a point about his life view. More often, he seizes an idea and turns it around in his mind like a Rubik’s cube, eager to clarify and synchronize all its facets.
Typically, a question about the musical credibility of the sounds that surfaced in the ’90s leads to some fascinating observations about music as a manifestation of time and place. “What were you supposed to do,” he says, “when everything got polarized in the ’90s? Hold your hands up to your ears when the hip-hop’s playing, or do you just feel like you need to put barriers up around yourself? To me, music is supposed to reflect the world. When you put my album on 50 years from now, you should go, ‘OK, I get it. I can imagine what it was like then.’ You put on a Duke Ellington record, my dad right away goes, ‘They used to dance like this.’ If you hear a Miles Davis record from the ’50s, it sounds like the ’50s. No question about it. And if you hear Herbie Hancock’s Head Hunters, it sounds like the ’70s. But you still love it, right now, in 2008. And that’s what the music should do. It should tell you what was going on.”
Perhaps inevitably, the thought, the notion of music as the soundtrack for life and era, recalls Miller’s association with Davis. “Sure, same thing with Miles,” he replies. One time I said to him, “What do you think about young trumpeters playing just like you did 25 years ago?’ And what did he say? He said, ‘You know what I think about that? Bellbottom pants.’ I knew exactly what he meant. For him, music was tied to the times. It didn’t exist in a vacuum. He made music for suits in the ’50s. For bell-bottoms in the ’60s.”
Miller didn’t assign a sartorial label to Davis’ music of the ’80s, music that was as powerfully impacted by the presence of Miller’s arrangements, soundscapes and production as recordings such as Sketches of Spain and Miles Ahead were framed by the orchestrations of Gil Evans. The case has been made, correctly, for the Miller-driven recordings Tutu (1986) and Amandla (1989) as the final important chapter in the chronicle of Davis’ creative stages of development. Miller intuited the notion that Davis’ great strength had always been his capacity to gather in the cultural currents streaming around him at any given point in time, and transform them, through the filters of his own creative imagination, into incredibly timely musical manifestations.
Miller puts it in more direct terms, subtly inferential about the unspoken, mutual admiration between the then-60-something Davis and the 20-something Miller. “Miles was hip in the most beautiful, positive sense of the word,” he explains. “I mean ‘hip’ has come to mean kind of shallow. But in the bebop days, the reason he came from St. Louis to New York was to be with the hip cats. ‘Hip’ meant intellectually advanced, rhythmically urgent, sexual, everything. It was the whole ball of wax, everything that was good in music. That’s what he wanted to be connected with. And I think for the rest of his life that’s what he looked for. What is really hip? The stuff that Tony Williams brought to the band in the ’60s; that was hip. The Sly and James Brown stuff; that was hip.
“But he was also like a kid in the way he heard something new. He would be like, ‘Marcus, I heard this thing on the radio, what is it, man?’ And I’d go, ‘Oh, yeah, they’re not using a snare,’ and he’d say, ‘Well, let’s do something like that.’ He had that kind of pure enthusiasm. And that’s how I want to be-just keep that enthusiasm, but know that you’ve got all this knowledge behind you to back it up. So if you need to, you can always dig into your well.”
The most prominent items in Miller’s well are his electric bass, his bass clarinet and his skills as a producer/arranger/composer. The electric bass came first.
When he arrived on the New York music scene in the late ’70s, barely out of his teens, he was, as he describes it, “on the cusp” of the instrument’s arrival. Innovative bassists such as Jaco Pastorius, Stanley Clarke and Larry Graham Jr. were between eight to 15 years older, leaving Miller “just kind of behind the frontline” of what was for all intents and purposes a new instrument.
He came to the electric bass at the age of 13. Although he had been studying the clarinet since he was a child, everything changed when he heard the Jackson Five. “I saw guys my age and they were already professionals creating excitement,” says Miller. “And I said, ‘OK, now wait. I’d better get serious about this.’
“I didn’t know that the electric bass guitar was brand new,” he continues, “that it had only been around for maybe 10 years or so before I heard it. I just wanted to play an instrument to be in a band. So I picked up the bass guitar. And it ended up being a golden age to be a bass guitar player-Stanley Clarke, Sting. And they were all leading their own bands. Bootsy Collins. Tower of Power had a great bass player. Louis Johnson from the Brothers Johnson. Jaco came and did his thing. It was a golden age, a pretty exciting time to learn the electric bass.”
Miller learned it so well, and so quickly, that he was busy playing professional gigs by the time he was going to college (majoring in music and business administration). His family was supportive; his father, a pianist and organist himself, even gave Miller some Miles Davis albums. Well aware of all the negative clichés about the jazz world, his father’s only insistence was that he go to college.
When Lenny White asked Miller to go on the road with his fusion band, Miller’s father said, “Why don’t you do it? Take a semester off. That way you can go and experience it. But you have to promise that you’ll go back to school.”
Miller found the road tempting, with its new places, new faces and total immersion in the music. Nevertheless he kept his word, returning to school for two more years. But balancing school obligations at Queens College with a full schedule of gigs in Manhattan wasn’t easy. “Sometimes I’d leave a studio at midnight,” he says, “drive to the campus to get a good parking space, and then get in the back seat and sleep with my portable alarm clock so I wouldn’t miss my 8 o’clock class.”
“[Drummer] Ralph MacDonald caught me one afternoon,” he continues, “and said, ‘Man, we had a Coca-Cola commercial that’s going national. Where were you?’ I told him, ‘Man, my English teacher said that if I didn’t take this final test she was going to fail me for the semester.’ And he said, ‘English?! Go back and ask her how much she makes a year. You coulda made that this morning.'”
At that point, Miller finally began to accept the fact that he wasn’t “a flash in the pan,” which had been his father’s biggest worry. The young bassist saw that this career he was stumbling into could actually have a future, creatively and financially.
Miller went to his father and said, “Dad, I can’t do this anymore. I have to take advantage of these opportunities.” His father understood and approved Miller’s decision to drop out of school and dive full-time into the life of a musician. And it didn’t hurt that, a week later, he was playing at Radio City Music Hall with Roberta Flack. “Roberta used to be a school teacher herself,” says Miller. “She pulled my dad aside, put on her teacher vibe and said, ‘Mr. Miller, I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. I value education, too. But your son is a supremely talented musician, and he’s going to be doing this for a long time.'”
It was, of course, a startlingly prophetic evaluation. In the next few years, Miller’s stinging fretless basslines drove the rhythm on more than 400 recordings by, to name some of the headliners, Elton John, Frank Sinatra, Mariah Carey, McCoy Tyner, Joe Sample, Bill Withers and LL Cool J. He also worked with Aretha Franklin, Flack, Grover Washington Jr., Bob James and David Sanborn.
In the midst of all that activity, he discovered the next vital element in his well of skills, the bass clarinet. “When I was in a studio one day,” he recalls, “I accidentally saw some music written in the treble clef. And I said to myself, ‘Wow, that’s crazy. Every time I see treble clef music, my hands move to clarinet fingering, unconsciously. It’s a shame that I just kind of let go of all those years I studied the clarinet.’
“So I said to my wife, ‘One day I’m going to get myself a bass clarinet. Because I can’t imagine a B-flat clarinet in the music I do. But a bass clarinet-nobody plays that.’ I mean, I was really just talking trash. I wasn’t really going to do it. But then, for Christmas, there’s a bass clarinet under the tree. I put it together and it squawked and honked. It was a nasty sounding Christmas, but it was the start of something.”
That beginning involved buying a bunch of bass clarinet recordings by Eric Dolphy and Benny Maupin-and then introducing it to Miles Davis. “I played it for him,” says Miller, grinning in memory, “and he said, ‘Man, you found your instrument.’ I said, ‘What are you talking about? I got my instrument. I’m a bass player.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, but you know what I mean.’ And, yeah, I did know what he meant. He meant that I was always looking for an instrument, a secondary instrument that I could play melody [on], where it wouldn’t be such an event. When you play melody on the bass it’s always, ‘Oh, look, the bass is playing the melody.’ On a horn, it’s not a big deal. So you can focus on the melody, not the instrument.”
Perhaps so, but when Miller is playing the bass clarinet, it can be almost impossible to resist the dark, plangent blend of sounds and emotion that he produces. At one session with Davis, Miller overdubbed a line Davis was playing. “It made it really snaky,” says Miller, “because I’d played it two octaves below Miles’ line-the sound of the trumpet and bass clarinet, which is so unusual, especially at that distance from each other. I just fell in love with the instrument. It’s got the range of a man’s voice, from real low to falsetto, it sounds wooden and it’s a nice contrast to my metallic style on the bass guitar.”
It is when it’s played right, that is, which is not always the case. It also has the capacity to produce honking, woofing, blurry sounds, as well as the lovely timbres achieved by Miller. Does Miller have a bass clarinet trade secret?
He slyly waves an index finger, leans over conspiratorially and says, “Well, I’ll tell you this. I was having a lot of difficulty with it early on because I just couldn’t seem to control it from night to night. Some nights it would be great, lots of wood, and some nights it wouldn’t. Then Benny Maupin came to my show at Catalina’s. He handed me something and said-he was very brief-‘This’ll change your life.’ I said, ‘Really?’ And he said, ‘Take it.’ And he gave me a plastic reed called the Bari.
“If you’re an orchestral guy you never use plastic reeds because the tone’s a little bright and it can make you stick out like a sore thumb. But I put it on my bass clarinet and it just felt right. And it’s plastic, so I didn’t have to change it for five years. I saw Benny five years later and said, ‘You know, I still have the reed you gave me.’ And he said, ‘OK. Here’s your next one.” And he gave me another one. So I had Benny Maupin’s reeds on my horn for 10 years.”
That added yet another useful color to Miller’s creative palette. His work as a producer has demanded, and enhanced, the use of all the elements in his well of musical skills. With credits reaching from Miles and Vandross to Wayne Shorter, Sanborn and Bob James, as well as his own constantly diversifying outings, he has arguably been one of the most influential recording studio forces for more than two decades.
He’s done so, he feels, by understanding that his role as a producer is “simply to help them tell the story and then get out of the way.” That’s easier said than done, of course. Is it ever possible, one wonders, for a functioning, effective producer to actually get out of the way?
Miller shrugs, then nods. “Well, OK,” he begins, “you listen to the records and you know that I was there. But whatever I did was always done in order to serve the music, even if it was a distinctive way of doing it. You hear the bass and, sure, you know it’s Marcus. But I wasn’t putting my bass on so that everybody would go there because it was Marcus. I was doing the best I could to make the song sound better. Because the song, the piece of music, is always the king.”
He mentions what he describes as “old-school producers,” whose job it was to simply make Frank Sinatra sound like Frank Sinatra, Aretha Franklin sound like Aretha Franklin, as well as the exceptions who usually triggered the response “Oh, that’s Phil Spector,” or “Oh, that’s George Martin.”
“Things began to change in the ’80s, though,” says Miller. “Producers became more famous and they started having their own sound. Sometimes the artist wasn’t even as important as the producer. If you think about Trevor Horn, his stuff was all about Trevor Horn. It could have been Grace Jones, but it could have been anybody singing. I think I’ve been a little bit old-school, a little contemporary. Situations would come up where the artist said, ‘Look I need your voice as well’-with David Sanborn, with Miles when we did Tutu. It was like they were saying, ‘I want some more input,’ and I was glad to provide it. So I’ve been fortunate enough to be in both situations.”
Fortunate enough, and skillful enough, since a good part of Miller’s numerous achievements trace to his work ethic and his omnivorous musical curiosity-his desire to be on the cutting edge with the tools of his trade. As we continue our conversation, he looks around at the various pieces of gear within arm’s reach of his chair, describing the good qualities of some, the thorny qualities of another. And he constantly mentions his awe at the pace at which sound technology has developed.
“About 10 years ago,” he explains, “I had a movie that I had to complete and I was traveling. Well, I had an extra guy travel with me to Europe, just to carry my two Anvil cases with the VHS tape recorders, the synthesizers and all that stuff. The next time, because of the technology advances, I only had to bring one Anvil case. The next time I just brought a big suitcase. And now”-he pats his laptop-“my studio is this. And I’m telling you I have everything. I have a full orchestra here”-he holds up a box of CD-ROM discs-“and all I have to do is grab a keyboard wherever I am.”
Beyond the technology, however, beyond his adept skills as a player, beyond his imaginative production ideas and his capacity to interact creatively with other artists, beyond his sheer, innate talent, Miller’s career successes come down to a foundation based on three elements.
The first is his view of what it means to be a musician. “I always talk about the importance of musicians reaching level three,” he says. “Level one is not knowing much. Level two is knowing everything. And level three is knowing everything but being able to forget it and play naturally. Luther was at level three. He knew it all. He knew when he was singing sharp. And sometimes he’d stay sharp because, emotionally, sharp was going to get the job done.
“Miles was, too. He heard music like a regular guy, reacted to it like a regular guy. So even if he had Wayne and Herbie and Ron Carter and Tony Williams in his band, he knew how to keep it attached to the earth. He knew how to say, ‘Hey, guys, we’re gettin’ a little too far out. Lemme play a couple of quarter notes.’ [He vocalizes Miles’ trumpet playing a string of quarter notes.] And everybody says, ‘Oh, yeah, here we are.’ And everything focuses. He was amazing that way.”
The second is the solidity of his role as a parent and a husband. “My family’s my foundation,” says Miller. “They keep me connected to the real world. I can travel all over the world [and] get all that appreciation from all those music lovers, but there’s nothing like the appreciation you get from home. … My wife taught me how to listen to music as a normal person. … I had been a musician so long, I would automatically listen four levels deep in a song.”
And the third is the love of music and the sense of self he received from his parents. “My dad is a pianist and an organist,” Miller says. “He played organ for his father’s church in Brooklyn, alternating Sundays with his cousin, who was Wynton Kelly. After the services we all went down to the basement of the church and performed. Everyone would play or sing. That was my life. When my father wasn’t playing Beethoven or Bach or church music, my mother was playing Ray Charles records.
“My dad’s still around, still doing his thing, but my mom passed about four years ago. They were the kind of parents who would be, ‘You have to study because there are so many great things that you’re going to be doing.’ It wasn’t an encouragement; it was a given. It wasn’t even like a question. It was like I was going to be doing great things.
“I know a lot of people,” Miller concludes, “who didn’t do much. And the only difference between myself and them is that kind of mentality, that way of looking at the world, that my parents instilled in me.”
Gearbox
Miller’s main bass is a 1977 Fender Jazz bass his mother bought him that year. In 1998 Fender released a copy of this bass (including the modifications he made to it over the years) as the Marcus Miller Signature model. In addition to the Signature, Miller plays other Fender Jazz basses from time to time-a ’75, a ’78, a ’64 and a fretless ’62.
Miller uses EBS and SWR amps, DR strings, and EBS and Dunlop effects, and performs on a Selmer Paris bass clarinet and a Cannonball soprano sax.
Originally Published
Marcus Miller has been dubbed one of the most influential artists of our time. At the top of his game for over 30 years, he is a two-time Grammy award winner, (U.S.), winner of the 2013 Edison Award for Lifetime Achievement In Jazz (Holland), winner of the 2010 Victoire du Jazz (France) and in 2013, was appointed a UNESCO Artist For Peace. His characteristic bass sound can be heard on a limitless catalog of musical hits from Bill Wither’s “Just The Two Of Us” , to Luther Vandross’ “Never Too Much”, to songs from Chaka Khan, David Sanborn, Herbie Hancock, Eric Clapton, Aretha Franklin, George Benson, Elton John and Bryan Ferry to name a few. With his distinctive style - a unique combination of funk, groove, soul and pure technical skills - Miller has been referred to as one of the most significant bass players in jazz, R &B, fusion and soul. Bass Player Magazine includes him on its list of ten most influential jazz players of this generation.
In addition to these career highlights, Miller has a rich and very deep resume of outstanding collaborations, including a 15- year song-writing and production partnership with Luther Vandross, resulting in 13 consecutive platinum selling albums of which Miller Produced 7, and a double Grammy win in 1992 - for the double platinum selling album Power Of Love/Love Power winning “Best R & B Vocal” as well as “Best R & B Song”. It was the last # 1 R & B album for twelve years before Vandross’ mega cross-over pop hit Dance With My Father in 2001.
Miller also left an indelible mark on the careers of artists as varied and talented as David Sanborn, Roberta Flack, Aretha Franklin, Chaka Khan, Al Jarreau, Bob James, Lalah Hathaway and Wayne Shorter. Most notable, after several years of touring in Miles Davis’ band in the early 80’s, Miller developed a close professional and personal relationship with Davis which led to his collaboration on three critically acclaimed albums - the most famous being the ground-breaking album and title song Tutu, making Miller the last primary producer, arranger and composer for this great jazz legend. The album and title song, which Miller composed, produced, arranged and performed on, is widely regarded as a significant addition to the canon of contemporary jazz music. Not only did the album win two Grammy awards, it is considered to be one of the definitive Miles Davis albums of our time.
Most Miller aficionados know that as a composer, Miller has an endless list of film and television credits to his name. Miller rose from writing the go-go mega hit ‘Da Butt’ for Spike Lee’s 1988 film School Daze to becoming the go-to composer for over 20 top urban movies. His film scores include the cult-classic House Party( feat. Kid ‘N Play - 1990); the Eddie Murphy/Halle Berry classic film Boomerang (1992); Above The Rim (feat. Tupac Shakur and Marlon Wayans -1994); Two Can Play That Game (feat. Vivica Fox, Gabrielle Union, Morris Chestnut and Anthony Anderson - 2001); This Christmas (feat. Idris Elba and Chris Brown - 2007); the Chris Rock cult classic Good Hair (2009); and About Last Night (feat. Kevin Hart and Regina Bell - 2014). Marcus also supplied the music for the successful weekly TV series Everybody Hates Chris, currently in syndication.
Most recently, Miller composed the music for the Oscar nominated film Marshall (2017) directed by Reginald Hudlin and starring Chadwick Boseman as a young Thurgood Marshall and Emmy-award-winning actor Sterling Brown from the hit TV series This Is Us. The film was the winner of the 2017 Chicago International Film Festival award; the 2017 African American Film Critics Award; the 2017 Hollywood Film Festival Award, and was also a 2017 Image and Critics Choice award nominee, and received five NAACP Image award nominations.
As if that weren’t enough, Miller also broadcasts two weekly radio shows – one in the U.S. and the other in the U.K. Jazz with Marcus Miller On MillerTime (affectionately referred to asThe Marcus Party by fans) airs every Sunday on SiriusXM. Miller’s radio show in London is called TransAtlantic Jazz With Marcus Miller and broadcasts each Wednesday on Jazz FM in the UK. Miller is also the annual host and head-line artist on multiple jazz cruises each year offered by Entertainment Cruise Productions including the very popular Blue Note At Sea jazz cruise, as well as the Smooth Jazz Cruise - all of which sell out each year.
On top of all of this, Miller has been a prolific artist and bandleader in his own right for well over 20 years, having released over a dozen albums under his name. Miller tours extensively worldwide with a band of gifted young musicians - perhaps reminding audiences of a certain Miles Davis who did the same for Miller and other young musicians like Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter.
Miller is the performer/composer/producer and arranger of ten critically acclaimed solo projects, among them The Sun Don’t Lie (feat. Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter); Tales (feat. Me’Shell NdegéOcello and Q-Tip) Silver Rain (feat. guest artist Eric Clapton) Free (feat. Corinne Bailey Rae); A Night In Monte Carlo (feat. the Monte Carlo Philharmonic Orchestra) and Renaissance (2012). His album M2 won the Grammy award for best Contemporary Jazz Album in 2001.
In 2015, Miller released Afrodeezia, an album inspired by his role as a UNESCO spokesperson for the Slave Routes Project. For that album, Miller incorporated musical influences from countries along the Atlantic slave route passage, collaborating with musicians from West Africa, North Africa, South America and the Caribbean. The album earned a 2016 Grammy nomination for Best Contemporary Jazz Album and Miller performed more than 250 sold-out shows worldwide behind the album’s release.
Miller’s current project - the new genre-defying album Laid Black, due to be released June 1st, brings the story of the Afrodeezia journey “home” where we find Miller incorporating more modern, urban elements into his music from trap, hiphop, R&B to gospel. Of this music, Miller says: “After Afrodeezia where I did a lot of traveling all over the world, I thought it would be cool to bring into the mix, some of the influences of our time that I was listening to right here at home. My band and the guest artists I recruited to collaborate with on this album are all versatile enough to play music ranging from be-bop to hip-hop. That made the musical mix I wanted to pursue on this album very possible.”
Anyone who has listened to Miller’s music or experienced Miller’s concerts live, knows that they are in for quite an experience with the new album. Miller’s powerful, jazz/funk bass playing is out in full force with this music – pushing boundaries and taking jazz to new levels. Miller, along with his incredible band of young talents, will be sure to excite, challenge and transport audiences.
The new album, Laid Black, features special guest performances by Trombone Shorty, Kirk Whalum, Patches Stewart, Take 6, Jonathan Butler and guest vocalist Selah Sue. Laid Black is certain to thrill and exhilarate Miller fans and will help continue to propel Miller to the world superstar status of fusion, funk, soul and jazz master!
https://forbassplayersonly.com/interview-marcus-miller/
Marcus Miller
The complete interview, originally published in four installments in January 2011 during FBPO’s “Marcus Miller Month”
Exclusive interview with FBPO’s Jon Liebman
January 3, 2011
January 3, 2011
Born and raised in New York City, Marcus Miller grew
up in a musical family, that included his father, a church organist and
choir director, and jazz piano great Wynton Kelly. Marcus started on
the clarinet and saxophone before discovering (and falling in love
with!) the electric bass. From the beginning, the young Miller showed
great promise as a player and songwriter. While still a teenager, he
began playing bass for live gigs, as well as sessions for commercials
and records. To date, Marcus has recorded well over 500 albums for
artists in multiple musical styles, including: rock (Donald Fagen and
Eric Clapton), jazz (George Benson, Dizzy Gillespie, Joe Sample, Wayne
Shorter and Grover Washington, Jr.), pop (Roberta Flack, Paul Simon and
Mariah Carey), R&B (Aretha Franklin and Chaka Khan), hip hop (Jay-Z
and Snoop Dogg), blues (Z.Z. Hill), new wave (Billy Idol), smooth jazz
(Al Jarreau and Michael Franks) and opera (collaborations with tenor
Kenn Hicks and Kathleen Battle).
Marcus is well known for his long associations with
Luther Vandross, David Sanborn and Miles Davis, having performed,
recorded and produced for all three of them. Among his successes are
Vandross’ hit single “Never Too Much,” Sanborn’s Voyeur album and Davis’ classic, Tutu. An accomplished composer, Marcus has written music for over twenty films, including Spike Lee’s School Daze and the Hudlin Brothers’ comedy classic, Boomerang. He also wrote the music for Chris Rock’s hit TV series, Everybody Hates Chris.
Marcus is the recipient of multiple GRAMMY awards,
including Best R&B Song, for “Power of Love/Love Power,” and Best
Contemporary Jazz Album, for M2: Power and Grace. In December
2010, Marcus received two more GRAMMY nominations, one for Best R&B
Performance By a Duo or Group with Vocals for his work with Chuck Brown
and Jill Scott and another for Best Surround Sound Album for his work on
George Benson’s Songs And Stories album. Marcus’ latest effort, A Night in Monte-Carlo, is scheduled for release by Concord Music Group on February 1. 2011.
PART I: The early years
MM: Let’s see… I was born in Brooklyn, New York, and lived in Brooklyn till the age of 10, when I moved to Queens, New York. My father is a piano player and organist in the Episcopal church and he comes from a very musical family. His cousins were musicians. As a matter of fact, one of his cousins played with Miles Davis in the late ’50s and the early ’60s. His name was Wynton Kelly. He was really an incredible jazz pianist. My father was like the classical cat in the family and his cousin Wynton was the jazz. So that was my early upbringing.
FBPO: Did you ever get to meet Wynton Kelly?
MM: Yeah, I got to meet him. I was pretty young. He died in ’71 and I was probably 10 or 11 at the time. He was 39 years old, so he died pretty young. My grandfather, my dad’s dad, was the bishop of a small church in Brooklyn, called the African Orthodox Episcopal Church, so after the church services, the whole family would go downstairs into the basement of the church and perform for each other. So there was a lot of music. When Wynton was in town, he’d play and my aunts would sing and my dad would play, so it was a pretty musical situation.
FBPO: Were you old enough at the time to appreciate what a heavyweight jazz icon Wynton Kelly was?
MM: No, not at all. He was good, but I didn’t even know what jazz was. I moved to Queens and when I was about 10 years old, I started singing because I was really influenced by the Michael Jackson/Jackson 5 phenomenon that had just kicked off. I started playing the clarinet in school at the age of 12, but the clarinet just wasn’t getting me into the R&B bands, even though I had branched out from the clarinet and was playing saxophone as well. To play R&B, I felt I needed to play something that was more of a rhythm section instrument. I picked up the bass one day when I was around 12 or 13 years old and just fell in love with it!
I played R&B for the first couple years. I enrolled in the High School of Music & Art in New York, which is kind of the magnet school for musicians. I met Kenny Washington there, who was a drummer in my grade. He was a jazz drummer and he said, “Man, listen, you’re a talented musician. You need to start learning jazz because that’s the ultimate music for musicians to play.” He invited me to his house in Staten Island, which is a long way from Queens, you know. You had to take a bus, a train, a ferry and then another bus, so it was like a three hour, three and-a-half hour trip.
FBPO: And you were how old at the time?
MM: At this time, I was 14.
FBPO: You went over there by yourself?
MM: Oh yeah, yeah. By that time, just to get to high school, I was taking the bus and trains, just to go to school on a daily basis, so it wasn’t that big a deal any more, you know. Every Sunday, I’d go to Kenny’s house and he started playing me all the jazz. I told him that my cousin was Wynton Kelly and asked if he was he familiar with Wynton Kelly. He said, “Am I familiar with Wynton Kelly?!” That’s when I really got my education on who Wynton was and how incredible he was. From that point on, man, I was as equally in love with jazz as I was with R&B and the funk. And by the time I was about 15 or 16, I started doing gigs.
FBPO: How did you just happen to pick up a bass one day?
MM: My best friend got one for his birthday. He was fooling around on it and I ended up fooling around on it more than him! He was playing it, but I was at his house all the time. So, not to wear out my welcome, I convinced my mom to get me a bass. My first bass was a Univox and it looked like B.B. King’s guitar, you know, with the red kind of 335 look?
FBPO: Yeah!
MM: And I played that for a couple years, then got a jazz bass in ’75.
FBPO: Was you mother musical at all?
MM: No, just loved it. My father would force her to sing in the choir every once in a while, but she was more of just a music lover. Real supportive. Once I started doing gigs with Kenny Washington in Staten Island, she would actually drive me out there, which is like a long haul! It was pretty cool, you know, with the amp in the back of the car.
FBPO: Well, at least you weren’t playing upright!
MM: Exactly! [Laughs]
FBPO: Did you ever play upright?
MM: No. This was the ‘70s, so the upright had kind of fallen out of favor for about four or five years and those were the four or five years I was coming up. Everybody was playing electric bass. Ron Carter was messing around with an electric bass, Sonny Rollins had an electric bass in his group.
FBPO: Bob Cranshaw!
MM: Yes. And there were some monster electric bassists like Jaco and Stanley Clarke, Alphonso Johnson and Anthony Jackson, who was coming up at the same time. So it was really the era of the bass guitar.
FBPO: How did you get established as a session player in New York, especially at such a young age?
I got a gig with a flute player named Bobbi Humphrey. She was a pretty popular kind of contemporary jazz flute player. It was before they had smooth jazz. The guitar player from my neighborhood band got the gig and he got me an audition. I played with Bobbi for a couple years at the age of maybe 15, 16, and eventually Bobbi got the opportunity to have Ralph MacDonald produce her album. Ralph was a very popular, very successful percussionist and producer in New York. He had written “Where is the Love?” for Roberta Flack and Donnie Hathaway. He wrote “Calypso Breakdown” for the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, which, before Michael Jackson’s Thriller, was like the biggest selling album of all time.
So, Ralph was doing his thing and he was a really popular session percussionist and everybody had to have him on their albums in the ‘70s in New York. Ralph was going to produce Bobbi Humphrey’s album and I wrote a song and I played it for Bobbi, and I said, “Listen. Listen to this tune.” And she said, “I like this tune. I want to do it on my album. I’m going to play it for Ralph.” So she played it for Ralph and Ralph said, “Yeah, that sounds nice. Let’s do it.” And she said, “Well, can my young bass player come and play on this one song?” And Ralph said, “Yeah, I guess we could put up with a new guy for one song.” So I got to go to the session and they were cutting. It was Steve Gadd and Richard Tee and Anthony Jackson. And Eric Gale was on guitar. Ralph said to Anthony, “This kid’s gonna play on this one song.” So Anthony got up and went in the control room while I played on my little song. And it went without incident. It was pretty straight-ahead.
FBPO: And you were how old at that time?
MM: I was probably 17 by now. The next year, Ralph was contracted to do another Bobbi Humphrey album. So I wrote another song, and this time put a bass solo in the song, realizing that if I’m going to make an impression on these guys, I had to write a song that features the bass a little better. So, that’s what I did. And Bobbi asked Ralph if I could play on that song. I put the bass solo in the tune and cut it and Ralph, at the end of the song, said, “Hey, man, can you read music?” And I said, “Yeah, I can read music.” And he said, “No, don’t bullshit me, man, because I’m about to recommend you for some of these studio jobs, but you got to really be able to read.” And I said, “Man, I can read fly shit! I play clarinet. Orchestral clarinet. These little bass parts are nothing!” So he said okay and told me to join Registry.” Registry – this was the era before cell phones and answering machines.
FBPO: Radio Registry. Isn’t that what they called it?
MM: Yeah, yeah! It was Musicans’ Radio Registry. There were no cell phones and no answering machines, so in order to get a musician, the producers and the contractors would call Registry and say, “Do you handle Will Lee? Do you handle Anthony Jackson?” And Registry would go, “Yeah.” And they’d say, “Well, I’d like to book him tomorrow for a session, blah, blah, blah.” So Ralph said, “Join Registry.”
I joined Radio Registry and figured Ralph was just, you know, in a good mood that day. A couple weeks later, it was midnight and I was trying to impress a friend of mine and I said, “You know, I’m going to call my service and see if they have any gigs for me [laughs]. And I called the service and they said, “We’ve been trying to get you all day because we’ve got some work for you tomorrow.” They said, “We have a nine to ten, possible twenty at A&R 799.” And I said, “I don’t know what any of that means. You have to break it down for me.” She said, “It’s a commercial and you have to be at A&R Studios. There’s two of them. You have to be at the one at 799 Broadway and there’s a possible twenty-minute overtime.” So I said okay, sure, I’ll be there. That was my first jingle. And it was with Ralph and a couple of the other studio musicians. And I read the music, did the thing and, literally, within three weeks, I was working all day, from nine in the morning till midnight on these commercials and then eventually record dates. The word of mouth spread really fast and I got kind of thrown into that world.
FBPO: It was a good time to be in New York, wasn’t it?
MM: Well yeah, there were no computers, so anything that needed music needed musicians. There was a lot to do and everybody was making records. If you could read music and if you could play the different styles, there was a lot of work.
PART II: The Miles experience; SMV
MM: Right, well Miles had been done with that style for years by that point because the bass player before me was Michael Henderson, who had played with Stevie, from Detroit. So Miles was way done with the acoustic bass players by that time. He had a sax player named Bill Evans, who was helping him form his comeback band. He told Bill Evans, “Find me a funky bass player.” And Bill said, “Well, Marcus is the new guy in town.”
So, it was really as simple as that. Miles called me while I was on a session and he said, “Hey, man, can you be at Columbia Studios in a couple hours?” And I said, “Is this really Miles Davis?” and he said, “Yeah! Can you be there?” I said, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” And I showed up at the session a couple hours later and the next thing I knew I was recording with Miles Davis! He had been in retirement for maybe five or six years at that point, so this was like his comeback and nobody really even knew A, if he was alive or B, whether he was ever going to play or not. So it was a pretty big thing.
FBPO: Was that Man With the Horn?
MM: Yeah, that was Man With the Horn.
FBPO: I had that on vinyl and I used to wear the grooves out of that thing!
MM: Oh yeah!
FBPO: Tell me something you learned from Miles that you still find valuable today.
MM: The most important thing I learned from him is that a lot of musicians get caught in that kind of athletic kind of “Who’s the best?” And they determine who’s the best by who can play the fastest or who can play the highest or whatever. But when you hang with Miles, you realize that it wasn’t for him about how fast or how high or low, he was just so full of personality [Laughs] that people were drawn to him.
After I observed that in him, I started looking at other musicians who I admired. I realized that Stevie Wonder’s a great singer, but what made him so appealing was his personality and his spirit. He was so good at conveying his spirit through his music. And his spirit was so beautiful that it drew people to him. I realized early on that I needed to work on just being the best “me” I could be. Really trying to find stuff about myself and my playing that’s unique and really try to accent that and really just try to win with my spirit, versus trying to win with playing a lot of notes. Although sometimes you do need a lot of notes to convey your message. But the notes are the means, not the end.
FBPO: I’ve heard a lot of stories about Miles. When you first met him, when you walked into that session, I’m sure he was looking at you and testing you. What was that dynamic like? What was that experience like, the first time you walked in and met Miles?
MM: Yeah, well, he gave me two notes. He gave me F# and G and said, “That’s the song.” I said, “That’s it?” and he said, “Yeah, motherfucker, that’s it!” I said, “Okay.” So the band showed up and we started playing and I started playing F# and G and he was on my case and he stopped the band and said, “That’s all you’re going to play?” So we started again and I played a whole lot more and he stopped the band again and said, “Don’t play so much, man. You play too much! Just play F# and G and shut up!” So I quickly realized that he was just, you know, kind of testing me. So I just closed my eyes and pretty much ignored him and got through the take. And he told the band, “You all play like a bunch of faggots” and walked out of the door. But I was sitting next to the door and he looked at me and winked as he walked by. So it was cool.
FBPO: [Laughing] Who was the rest of the band?
MM: It was Al Foster on drums, Bill Evans on sax. For the first couple of sessions he had Barry Finnerty on guitar and then later on Mike Stern. Sammy Figueroa played percussion and I think that was it. And Miles.
FBPO: I remember that generation! Tell me about the SMV group you have with Victor Wooten and Stanley Clarke. I’m sorry you guys didn’t come through Detroit, but maybe one day you will!
MM: [Laughs] I think we got as close as Chicago.
FBPO: Well, that’s in the region, anyway. Tell me about that group. Has anybody ever made comparisons to what Jeff Berlin and Billy Sheehan and Stu Hamm do? Or, I saw an upright trio at the Detroit Jazz Festival last year with John Clayton and Christian McBride and Rodney Whitaker…
MM: Well, I’ve never heard anybody make any comparisons. It’s not an easy thing to do unless you have the right guys. I think Jeff Berlin and Billy and Stu played a show when Victor and I were presenting Stanley with his Lifetime Achievement Award at a Bass Day, maybe 2006 or 2007. That’s when Stanley, Victor and I got the idea because Victor and I were presenters, so we made little speeches about Stanley and how important he was and then presented him with his award. And then we jammed a little bit on a Stanley Clarke song, “School Days.” We had a nice time and everybody seemed to be really into it. And we had been kind of threatening to maybe get together. So that’s how we got the idea.
I think Jeff and Billy and Stu played that night, but it was more like one guy played his stuff, then another guy played his stuff, then the third guy played his stuff. At the end, I think they might have jammed together. I don’t know if that’s how it normally was or if that’s just what they did for that night. We were looking to try to do something a little more integrated. It felt so natural for us at that Bass Day, we said, “You know, this could be very easy.” So that’s how it started.
PART III: The Making of A Night in Monte-Carlo
FBPO: Let’s talk about your new CD, A Night In Monte-Carlo. I love it! How did this project come about? Weren’t you commissioned?
MM: The Director of Culture in Monte Carlo, in Monaco, which is the name of the principality, is a man named Jean-René Palacio. Jean-René called me and said, “Listen, we got the Monaco Jazz Festival and we want to know if you’d be interested in working with the orchestra because we have the orchestra available.” And I said, “Yeah, that would be a great idea!” See, he didn’t know that I’d been scoring movies all these years, like the last twenty years. I think he thought it was going to be like me really stepping out of my comfort zone. But for me, I’d been working with orchestras a lot. It’s just I had never done them with my own music as an artist. It was always in a film setting. I thought it was a nice opportunity to take tunes that I liked and stuff from my repertoire and re-orchestrate them for the actual orchestra. You know a lot of the things I had done in the past were orchestrated, it’s just that I used synths and stuff like that. So it was nice to finally actually use a real cello section instead of a synth that was kind of approximating that. It was a whole different feeling.
So that’s how it started. I just had to write the arrangements. Of course I waited till the last minute! [Laughs] And they were calling me like every day, saying the orchestra needs to rehearse! I finally got them done and got them out there.
FBPO: How did you choose the tunes?
MM: I just closed my eyes and said, “What would I like to hear?” You know, with the orchestra. The previous album was called Marcus and it opened with a song called “Blast,” which has sort of an Eastern flavor with a hip-hop feeling. I absolutely had imagined an orchestra when I did it the first time, but instead I used an overdriven guitar and horns, you know? I knew this was a great opportunity to have that first line played in unison by the orchestra. I figured that would be really strong.
And then, I always wanted to hear the introduction to Miles Davis’ “So What” orchestrated because on the original in 1959, it was just with Bill Evans’ piano and Paul Chambers’ bass. So I orchestrated that. It was always something I wanted to hear.
And then, I had written a song for Miles called “Amandla,” where I used a lot of synths. It was like a synth orchestra, so it was really nice to use a real orchestra with that. So it was that kind of thing. It was picking the songs I had always imagined having an orchestra on.
FBPO: I’m glad you mentioned that Bill Evans intro because that’s one of the things I wanted to ask you about. I love that! I never heard anybody do that before. And Amandla! I remember when that came out in the late ‘80s. I loved that CD!
MM: Well, the Bill Evans intro really sets up the mood for that song because a lot of guys play “So What” and it just becomes a blowing vehicle and it sounds more like John Coltrane’s “Impressions,” you know?
FBPO: Yeah. Same changes.
MM: John said I want “So What,” but I just want to be able to blow on it. But if you play that intro, it really sets up the mood, which is a lot more somber and it makes you think a little bit more about the notes you choose.
FBPO: That orchestra, the Monte Carlo Philharmonic, has such a rich heritage of having played under some of the greatest world-renowned conductors of the past century. I mean Toscanini, Leopold Stokowski, Leonard Bernstein, Zubin Mehta… Yet on your record, they don’t sound like a bunch of classical guys trying to play jazz, as many orchestras do. How’d you get them to sound so hip?
MM: Well, they really surprised me, first of all, because when I showed up, they were a lot younger than I thought they were going to be. The orchestra is always evolving, with new players always coming in. They were a lot younger and they were all very excited to meet me, which was very nice. They all stood in line to get autographs after the first rehearsal. They were a lot more aware of contemporary stuff than you would think. So that was a big part of it, just their willingness to be involved. The other thing was that, you know, you got to be careful what you write. You got to make sure you write stuff that’s not going to be trying to get them to swing eighth notes because that can sound a little funny.
FBPO: Yes!
MM: But there’s another way to write it, if you spend enough time doing it.
FBPO: How about the audience? They obviously enjoyed it. How ready were they for what they got?MM: Man, they weren’t ready at all! When we hit that first song, they looked like that dude in that Maxell commercial, just getting blown away! It was really nice to see. They knew that it was going to be something, but they didn’t really know exactly what it was going to be. And they thought, “Oh, it’s going to be classical. I’m going to have to sit through that.” But everybody really seemed to relax after the first couple songs and say, “Oh, okay. This is going to be nice.”
And it was a really intimate hall. It was called La Salle Garnier and it’s a replica of the big opera house in Paris. The story is that the Parisians were building their opera house and ran out of dough, so they called down to the rich people in Monaco, saying, “Can you help us finish our opera house?” And Monaco said, “Sure, but you’re going to have to build a replica down here first!” So, they quickly built a replica of the original Paris opera house. They actually finished it before they continued finishing the Paris house. It has a capacity of 600 people, so there were not a lot of people in the audience, not a huge crowd. And the stage isn’t that big, so we were real close to each other. You know, you had to watch out to make sure you didn’t get hit in the head with somebody’s bow! Because of the intimacy and the sound of the orchestra, we really just had a beautiful time.
FBPO: And the band sounds great, too! I remember Raul Midón. We went to University of Miami together, back in the ‘80s. His twin brother was there, too. Those singing trumpet solos he does with his lips…
MM: Yeah, yeah!
FBPO: I’ve never heard anything like that in my life! Does he tour with you on a regular basis?
MM: No, we’ve done a few gigs since then, but that gig that you heard was the first time that we worked together. We had met and talked on the phone and were looking for an opportunity to do something together and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I was really happy with the way it worked out.
FBPO: And Roy (Hargrove) sounds great and Alex (Han) sounds great. And there’s some very beautiful fretless bass playing, too, that I really enjoy.
MM: Oh, thanks.
PART IV: Career Perspectives, sage advice and more
MM: The session player thing happened the way I described. But being a session player, there were some relationships that ended up being really strong. Like my relationship with David Sanborn was really strong, and my relationship with Luther Vandross was really strong, as well. And with those guys, not only was I playing on their sessions, but I started writing music with them and writing music for them.
So what happens is you write the song and you arrange it because you’re already a musician. And eventually they’ll say, “Can you come to the mix to make sure that your arrangement is coming through right, that the important instruments are being heard when they should be heard, blah, blah, blah?” So you end up being in the studio during the mix and you start learning about that. And eventually, they say, “Hey, can you co-produce this thing because you seem to know your way around the studio and your suggestions seem to be helping?”
And the next step is, “You know what? Why don’t you just produce the thing, and I’ll just be the artist?” That’s what happened with Sanborn. With Luther, we always produced together, but it was the same kind of dynamic where you go from musician/bass player to an arranger to a composer and then to a consultant for the mix and eventually to producing.
Now, the artist thing is like a different track. When you’re a session musician or you’re a producer, your whole thing is trying to support an artist, trying to make an artist sound the best they can sound. Doing whatever is necessary, being whoever you have to be to make the music sound right. So if I have to play the bass this way, I’ll do it; if I have to play the bass that way, I’ll do it. Whatever is right for the song and for the style of the artist.
When you’re the artist, you have to start thinking
differently because it’s about you and about your vision. You’re not
supporting anybody else. You have to know where you’re going. And a
lot of guys fall short there because, although they’re great musicians,
the thing that people are attracted to from an artist is a musical point
of view. I’ll get a lot of musicians who send me their demos, saying,
“Hey, man, I want to get a record deal. Do you think you can help me?”
And on their demo is a funk tune, and then there’s a straight-ahead
jazz tune, and then there’s a latin tune and there’s a fretless tune.
And I’ll say to the guy, “Why did you send me all these different
styles? Each style sounds like a completely different dude!” And he
goes, “I just wanted to let you know that I can do everything.” And I
said, “Just so you know, people really aren’t interested in artists who
do everything. They’re interested in artists who have a singular
voice. That’s really what makes you an artist.”
So, in learning those lessons myself, I had to really look into myself and figure out who I wanted to be, who I was and how I wanted to express myself. My first couple attempts at making my own albums suffered from that exact thing. I just really wasn’t sure exactly who I was and there was a lot of variety and there wasn’t a through-line. Later on, when I started making albums in the ’90s, I think, although there’s still a lot of variety, my personality was stronger, so there was a through-line that let everybody know who I was and it kind of really made me a legitimate artist.
FBPO: That’s a good lesson. It ties back a little bit to what you were saying you learned from Miles. It also reminds me about something I read about how Lenny White helped you with that kind of thing. You were on a gig and Stanley was on the same bill and you were kind of intimidated. So Lenny took you aside and said, “Listen, just be you.” Can you talk to me a little bit about that?
MM: Those are two different stories. Like my first national tour, I had been doing those gigs with Bobbi Humphrey when I was 15-16, but at age 17, I went on a U.S. tour with Lenny White, playing in his fusion band. He had recently left Return To Forever. But some of the gigs we did were opening for Stanley Clarke’s band, so Stanley would be there listening and that was very intimidating. But, I’ll tell you, I really wanted my own style. At that point, I had a little bit of Stanley, a little bit of Larry Graham, a little bit of Jaco and I was really searching because where I was growing up, nobody really respected that. If you didn’t have your own sound in New York, in Queens, where I was growing up, you really didn’t have as much “juice.”
So I said, “Lenny, man, I’m looking for my sound. How am I going to find it?” And this was a separate conversation. We actually were coming out of seeing the first Star Wars movie. And it was so impressive. George Lucas, you know, that vision that he had. It inspired me. And I said, “Man, I’m really looking for my own sound. How do I get it?” He said, “There’s really no way to make it happen except to just play and to put yourself in a lot of different musical situations.” And he said, “Then one day, man, you’re going to hear a recording back and you’re going to recognize yourself immediately and go ‘Wow!’ That’s it! That’s me!’” And the reason I remember him telling me that is because when I did that session I was telling you about with Miles, that first session, I went into the control room to listen to the playback and I remember saying to myself, “Oh yeah. Oh, that’s me!” And then laughed because it happened exactly the way Lenny said it would happen.
FBPO: What else is keeping you busy these days? The album that’s about to be released was actually recorded a year or two ago, wasn’t it?
MM: Yeah. Over the past year, I’ve been doing Tutu Revisited, because I ended up producing Miles later on in the ’80s. I was in his band for a couple years, then I left to concentrate a little bit more on composition and producing. But then I came back to him around ’85 as a producer and composer and we did that album, Tutu, which was a pretty big album for Miles. And it was twenty-five years ago, so we decided to do Tutu Revisited, which is where I got some young musicians and we went back to see how we could update it a little bit.
It was very nice to revisit it and to hear some young musicians, like Christian Scott, a trumpet player, and another trumpet player named Sean Jones. And I had a young saxophone player who’s phenomenal, named Alex Han. So we went on the road and we were supposed to do just a few gigs, but people really enjoyed it and it ended up being like a year and-a-half worth of touring. So that’s our next DVD that’s coming out soon. First we’ll put out the Monaco CD, then we’ll put out the Tutu DVD, later in 2011.
FBPO: We’ll all look forward to that. Alex Han is on the Monaco CD, too.
MM: Exactly! Alex is on Monaco and he’s tearing it up! He’s sounding great on that! And he’s continuing to grow and blossom.
FBPO: What do you like to do when you’re not immersed in music?
FBPO: I understand you’re a bit of a race car buff.
MM: Yeah, man! I just sat with the car dealer yesterday. Not that I’m going to buy a car, but he’s my buddy and he’s calling me about these cars that he wants me to check out, these Ferraris and Lamborghinis. And I say, “Man, I could buy a house with what those would cost!” But those cars are sweet, man. I was racing more seriously before the kids came, but I couldn’t justify cracking myself up. I wouldn’t have been able to justify that to my kids, man. Especially if I’m not even getting paid for it!
FBPO: I think Ron Carter shares your passion for that.
MM: Yeah, Ron Carter’s into it too. Matter of fact, I’m going to call him up and have some conversations about that with him. I saw him about a month ago and he gave me his biography and I just finished it. A very, very good read.
http://lifestyle.jimdunlop.com/marcus-miller-interview/
Simply put, Marcus Miller is a living legend. His prowess as a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, and composer has earned him two Grammy awards and the esteem of critics and musicians across genres. As a sideman, his credibility is well-attested—Marcus has played, and in many cases written and produced, for everyone from Miles Davis and Luther Vandross to Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey. His solo career has further cemented his status as the preeminent living bass player. With his groundbreaking style and carefully cultivated sound, Marcus has created a unique and massively influential musical voice. Marcus has honed that voice for decades, in part by embracing innovation and using the best tools available. And that’s what brought him to Dunlop Super Bright Bass Strings.
We sat down with Marcus to talk with him about where his new signature strings fit into the evolution of his musical voice as well as a number of topics, including the importance of tone and finding your own sound. This guy’s a true master, with insights that are valuable to any musician, whether or you play bass or not. Check out the video below for some of the highlights from our conversation—soundtracked by the legend himself. The full interview is packed with even more of Marcus’ masterful insights, so be sure to read that after you watch the video.
How important is tone for a musician?
Marcus: When I started playing bass—I was probably 13 years old, something like that—I wasn’t really at the point where I could tell the difference between the important elements of music: technique, intonation, tone. So I was just going by instinct, just playing the bass. I had a Fender Jazz Bass, and whatever sounded good, even if it was accidentally arrived at, I stuck with it. Later on, I realized that tone is the first thing that impresses people about your sound. That’s the first thing that people are struck by.All the bass players I admired had a signature sound.That first note, it makes an impression. I know a lot of great musicians who play some amazing music, but their tone isn’t that great, and you have to get past that as a listener. You have to go, “Ok, my first impression wasn’t that great, but man, he’s playing some great stuff.” But the really, truly great musicians who really make a full impact, to me they have the whole package, and the first element is tone. You hear a guy play that first note and you go, whoa! That’s everything, man. First impressions, right?
All the bass players I admired had a signature sound. Yes, they all had great technique, but you heard one note, two notes, and you knew it was Stanley Clarke, you knew it was Jaco Pastorius, you knew it was James Jamerson. And I really wanted to see if I could find something, maybe not on that level, but something that was easily identifiable as me. Once I got a sound that I liked, I didn’t fool around too much with it. Same bass, same settings, and I just changed the notes, I just changed what I’m playing. But I didn’t really fool around with the sound too much because I felt like I had something that was really identifiable, and that’s so hard to find as a musician. So tone is everything.
When did you first realize you’d found your sound?
Marcus: I was talking to a mentor of mine, a fantastic drummer named Lenny White from my neighborhood in Jamaica, Queens in New York, and I said to him, “Man, I want my own sound, how do I get my own sound?” I was probably 17 at the time, and we had these amazing musicians in the neighborhood who I admired. When we went to these jam sessions, I’d be walking to the club from my car parked two blocks away, and I already knew who was in there because the sounds were so identifiable, even from down the street.So I’m saying to Lenny White, “Man I really want my own sound, how do you do it?” And he says, “You can’t worry about it, you just keep playing, and keep playing, and then one day, you’re going to hear a recording of yourself and go, ‘Oh that’s me.’” So he gave me some real abstract Karate Kid kind of instructions on how to get your own sound.
Later on, when I’m 21, I get a call from Miles Davis, and he says, “Come to the studio, I’m going to record.” I ran to the studio, and we played, and I’m like, “This is Miles Davis, man, I got to play something good.” And then we heard the playback in the control room, and I remember saying to myself, “Oh wow, that’s me.” I recognized that sound as me. And once you find your own sound, you got to hold on to that, man. You got to hold on tight, because that’s something that a lot of people don’t ever get.
So, I said to myself, now that I have a sound, now I can go to the next level, now I can start to be creative, now I can start to try different techniques, improve my technique, improve my creativity, because I got the first element, the most important element. Sound was really the launching pad for the rest of my playing.
How important is style for a musician?
Marcus: Once when I was talking to Boz Scaggs, he said something that I’ll never forget: “People don’t buy technique. They don’t buy anything but style.” That’s what draws people to an artist—your style, your view of the world, the way you present yourself, but more importantly, the way you see things. You got a lot of great musicians, and then you got artists, and not all great musicians are artists.I get demos from musicians, and they say, “Check out my demo, I want to make a record.” And the first song is a funk song, the second song is a salsa, and the third song is a bossanova. I say, “Each one is like a completely different player.” And they say, “Well, I want people to know I’m well rounded, that I can do it all.”
You got a lot of great musicians, and then you got artists, and not all great musicians are artists.That’s really important, but what people want to know is, do you have a unique point of view? And I know the problem, because I was a studio musician for like 25 years. People think they know all the stuff I played on, but I played on hundreds of records that you don’t even know I played on. I’m on Mariah Carey records, Whitney Houston records, where I’m just playing what’s necessary. As a studio musician, you became who you needed to become for each record.
But eventually, I started moving more to an artist mentality where I found my own sound, my own style, and I decided I was going to try to make that sound and that style work in whatever situation I’m in. So, the difference between me 30 years ago and me now is that I have a much clearer point of view about how I want to play and what I think music should sound like. And that’s me really trying to become an artist.
Why work with Dunlop?
Marcus: So the thing about having your own identifiable sound, your own identifiable music, your own identifiable style, is that you still have to grow. You still have to figure out a way, particularly if you’re playing jazz music or any kind of improvisational music to maintain your identity. And it’s a very tricky thing. Because if you stay in the same place, then you’re staying in the same place. And if you change too quickly, you might lose who you are.You still have to figure out a way to maintain your identity.Now, everybody has their own version of how to deal with this, but for me, I wanted to continue to evolve. So I’m looking at these Dunlop strings, man, and I’m going, whoa, this maintains what everybody’s known me for, but it has a little bit of my old 17-year-old sound when I was playing more raw, you know what I mean? And I’m already feeling myself wanting to get back to that. This has the best of both worlds.
So it’s a way to grow, by finding this new string. And this is the whole thing: trying to evolve but maintaining who you are at the same time.
Why is it so important to evolve your sound?
Marcus: I always feel like I want to continue to evolve, like I want to push forward. And people ask me, why? Why do you feel like you need to change when you have such a good thing going? But it’s boring otherwise. You know what I mean? I really think that if you’re an artist, your responsibility is to show people the world as it exists today through your eyes. That’s what all artists do. It doesn’t even have to be music, it can be writers, photographers, comedians, they all do the same thing, they all present us with the world as it exists now, but through their own filter, and that’s what makes them interesting.In the ’8os, everything was really, like, techno, and everything was clean, and everything was very exact because we had just discovered these machines that we could make music with, so we were playing really, like almost in a robotic fashion a lot of times. Because that was where the world was. We had just been introduced to these computers—how do we learn to live with them?
And for a while, computers were dominating. Everything sounded like this, and we found cool ways to do that, but now people are a lot more comfortable with the technology, people are a lot more comfortable with computers. And now things are starting to sound a little bit more natural, at least in a lot of areas of the world and a lot of areas of music.
So for me, I want my sound to sound less high tech. I want to still have a full range of bass and treble, but I want to get a little bit more growl, I want to get a little bit more urgency in my sound. And that’s how I used to play back when I was first starting. In New York, everything was always aggressive, and people didn’t want to hear jazz, so if you were going to play jazz, you had to play with an attitude. We were like 16, 17 years old, and people were like, I don’t know what they’re doing, but they’re really into it, I guess I got to respect them. That’s how we used to hit it. So now, I’m wanting to get back to that.
And in my band, I got like 21, 22, 25 year olds who are feeling like they want to prove themselves, like they want to make a statement, and that’s inspiring me. I want to make sure my sound is in there pushing them.
What is the role of the bass player?
Marcus: A lot of bass players who are solo artists are just sitting there waiting for their solos. But for me, I’m doing just as much work when I’m playing behind you—sometimes more work. It’s a shame that a lot of young bass players don’t recognize how important driving a band is. But that’s what a bass player does, man. You drive the band.I’m really into that role.—it’s as important to me as playing a great solo. And with these strings, man, with this sound I’m going for, I want to make sure that I’m driving you, that I’m pushing everybody, that I’m pushing the musicians to be creative and reach new heights.
What are you trying to accomplish as an artist?
Marcus: When I first started playing music, I just wanted to be a good musician. My father’s a musician, his father’s a musician—I come from a musical family—so I just wanted to step into the shoes that were laid out for me. And then I’m in my neighborhood in New York, everybody had a band, and I just wanted to be in a good band and just be known as a good musician.At each step, I just looked to see what else is available from that new step.And what happens is that, as you get older, you start realizing the possibilities with music. So first, I just wanted to play the bass, I just wanted to be good. Then I saw somebody who had just written a song, he said, “Hey man, here’s a song I wrote.” And I said, “Wow, I would love to write a song on my own.” And that became a goal. And then I saw arrangers making sure that everybody’s part worked together, and I got into that. And then producing. At each step, I just looked to see what else is available from that new step. I’d reach a certain level and go, okay, now what?
And so, for me, at this point, I’m still going, okay, now what? I’m recognizing how powerful music is, how it can communicate things that people have difficulty communicating with words. So we’re playing in Africa, we’re playing in Russia, we’re playing in China, we’re playing all over the world, and we’re able to bring people together who normally wouldn’t come together like that.
So now, what I’m feeling, is how effective, how powerful music can be. That’s my next goal, to take advantage of that, to communicate, try to establish goodwill around the world. It sounds really kind of corny, but when you’re on the stage, man, and you can’t say hello in the audience’s language, but you got like, six, seven thousand people all moving together, all sharing the same emotions, you begin to realize that we all have a lot in common. We just need to establish that first, and then work out the details.
Let’s at least establish that we have a universal commonality, and music is the best example of that.
https://jazztimes.com/features/interviews/marcus-miller-music-intertwined-life/
Marcus Miller: Music Intertwined With Life
The prolific bassist/bandleader/producer talks about his role as musical director and host on the various jazz cruises
Miller will be one of the hosts for the Blue Note at Sea cruise in January 2018. Learn more here.
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Lee Mergner: How did you first start working with Entertainment Cruise Productions and the various jazz cruises?
Marcus Miller: Michael Lazaroff had already been doing smooth jazz cruises and by the time I met him he was doing one with Dave Koz and one with Wayman Tisdale. Wayman is my son’s godfather, we were very close. Michael told Wayman that he would like to see if he could make an attempt to get into the European market. And he said, “Which musician do you think I could go to who could help me make my first steps into that market?” And Wayman suggested me. So that’s how I met Michael. He came and asked me if I’d be interested in cruises, and all I could think of was The Love Boat! So I was like, “I don’t know, man. I don’t think so.” But he said, “Do me a favor, come on one of the cruises with me, just as a guest so you can see what it is.” And it was a smooth jazz cruise, but the people, the audience, they were so into it. It blew my mind how into it they were. And very nice.
Michael said, “Look, I would like to do a cruise with you in Europe.” And I said, “Look, I’m not really that in tune with the smooth jazz scene. I know sometimes people connect me with it, but I don’t really know the whole ins and outs of it.” He said, “No. I want you to get the musicians that you want.” I said, “Really?” and he said, “Yeah.” It was called the North Sea Jazz Cruise. Michael said, “Call who you want.” So I had Herbie, McCoy, John Scofield, Roy Hargrove, even my man Frank Morgan was on the ship. This is like 2007. North Sea was a great musical cruise—Europeans were like, “Why would I ever want a cruise from Copenhagen to Rotterdam?” For them it’s like going from Jersey to North Carolina or something like that. And what we did with the ship was that we ended in Rotterdam and the people on the ship got a free pass into the North Sea Jazz Festival, which was cool. And I think if we had stayed with it, it probably would have developed into something cool. But Michael was like, “Uh, I don’t know. That’s a big investment.” So we rested on that and we tried the Playboy Jazz Cruise a couple of years later. And it had the same type of musicians, the same caliber of musicians, and it was great. But a lot of people who don’t live in California don’t really know the connection between Playboy and jazz, you know what I mean? A lot of people would think, “Oh, man, are there gonna be bunnies on the ship?” People in L.A., because of the jazz festival that they have here, and of course the people who know the history of jazz know that Playboy has had a beautiful, respectful relationship with jazz for years. But not everybody knew that. So we were still trying to figure out exactly the angle that I was going to work with Michael. And then unfortunately, tragically, Wayman passed due to cancer. And so Michael said, “Look, man. Can you do me a favor? I know you’re not exactly a smooth jazz-er, but I would love it if you would host these cruises. You know, just to fill in for Wayman.” So that’s how I got in on the smooth jazz cruise. And, like I was saying before, the people who come to that music and to those cruises, they love the music so much and it’s so cool. And for me, it’s like hanging out with my aunts and uncles. And I had such a good time.
Then I just took it upon myself to maybe try to hip ‘em to some other music that they might not have heard if they were listening only to playlists that were constructed by Broadcast Architecture. I’d be like, “Hey, you might want to check out this cat.” We had people like Keb Mo and Raúl Midón. Because they love music, so they’re going to love what they’re exposed to. I took it upon myself to do that. And we did that for a few years and had some really, really good success, with people really, really into it. And then Michael said, “I’d like to expand.” Because he felt like there was a whole segment of jazz that’s not represented in this cruise thing. We had the straight-ahead cruise—which I became a part of also—which kind of addressed really traditional jazz. And we had the smooth jazz, which represented that segment. But the meat of the jazz, the jazz that you would hear at most of the European festivals, or even a lot of the festivals here in the U.S., wasn’t being addressed. That’s the genesis of the Blue Note at Sea cruise.
With the first cruise we had Gregory Porter, Dianne Reeves, Lalah Hathaway, Robert Glasper—great musicians. And now the trick is just to let people know that this thing exists and what the difference is between smooth jazz and contemporary jazz, because these labels will just kill you. You can’t avoid them because we’re human beings and we need labels to just kind of grab ahold of things, but they can get in the way, especially when you’re trying to describe stuff. The people who were on the Blue Note cruise get it now, and they really enjoyed themselves last year. We’re just trying to continue.
I think any music fan can figure out the difference between the cruises just by looking at the lineup.
Right, that’s what Michael does. You say, “What’s the difference between the Smooth Jazz Cruise and the Blue Note at Sea contemporary jazz cruise?” And he says, “Well, here are the artists who play on this one, here are the artists who play on that one.” That way you can describe it to yourself—you know the music, however it works for you.
How would you describe the difference between the audiences for the different jazz cruises?
Smooth Jazz [Cruise] is more of a party. The thing that will get a smooth jazz audience going is if it’ll feel more like a pop concert. What happens is people are just there to party, they are having a good time. And we have parties on the deck and in the pool, and people are just having a good time. It’s not straight R&B because it’s primarily instrumental and people appreciate the musicianship. But that’s where it’s at.
The Jazz Cruise audience is there to listen. They’re very much more subdued, not in terms of how much they’re enjoying it but because they’re concentrating. They really appreciate the musicianship on a level where it would get in the way if they were more vocal. And then the contemporary cruise [Blue Note at Sea] is kind of right down there in the middle. There’s a huge respect for the musicianship and people still want to have a good time. So we have them all covered, now I think we just have to let people know. Or let people decide, rather, what flavor is right for them.
I love the hang on the Jazz Cruise.
The thing that makes the cruises so cool is that you get to hang with the musicians, you get to talk with them, you get to interact with them. We had George Benson, right? And we said, “Look, George, we’d like you to perform on this cruise.” And he said, “Man, I’m not a big fan of boats.” And Michael said, “Why don’t you come on while we’re docked”—and I forget which island we were on—“You can come on, do your thing, and we’ll stay docked, and then when you’re finished with your band you can jump off. We promise we won’t move.” And so that’s what we did. But when we were finished, when George was finished and everyone was going on to the next party, George looked around and was like, “Man, I feel like I’m missing out!” So a couple of years later, we had George and George said, “Uh, by the way, this time I’m staying.” And we had a great time. So some of it—in addition to getting the audience in tune to what’s going on—getting these artists in tune is also part of what we’ve got to do.
Michael told us the story of Pat Metheny saying next time he does it that he’ll be on for the whole cruise.
Yeah, and Herbie came on and he said, “Oh, damn, when is the next one? My wife wants to know when the next cruise is!” Because everybody is having a good time and lots of times the musicians don’t know how to relax. If you’re a musician and you sit around for too long, you start itching. But this is perfect; you can continue to be a musician but you can be in a situation that’s more relaxed and be in a nice atmosphere as well.
It is true because as a musician it’s not like you get paid vacation.
No, you don’t get paid vacation. But like any entrepreneur, you’ve got to stop and take this vacation. Yet your mind is still on this business. Or for a musician, your mind is on your music. But this is great and the musicians end up loving it. Because—can you imagine—I’m on the ship and I’m hanging out with John Clayton, with Christian McBride, you know what I mean? And with Buster Williams? Come on, man. And this wasn’t at an airport going, “Hey, man, good to see you, where are you going?” This wasn’t in the lobby of one of the jazz festivals. This is a whole week. And so people are starting to collaborate, based on having the opportunity to talk to each other and really get to know each other. So it’s pretty cool.
You do a lot the interviews with the artists. Do you prepare a lot or just say, “Let’s have a conversation”?
A little bit of both, because I obviously am coming at it from a different angle. My thing is, what can I ask you as a musician that somebody else might not know to ask or might not see from that perspective? I’m always approaching it from that perspective. I know generally where I want to go, but I also just want to stay enthusiastic and get people to really see what the process is. There are so many things that you don’t even realize that people don’t know. For example, I’ll get emails, “Man, how come you never come to Australia? Do you not like Australia?” They actually think that you sit around and just go, “You know, I think this tour, I’m going to go to Australia.” You know, they don’t know that you’ve got to wait until somebody invites you. It’s such a basic piece of knowledge if you’re a musician, but it’s not that obvious to other people. I’m just trying to show people what goes into it. Or, like I’ll ask a female singer, “How do you deal with wardrobe on the road?” You know what I mean? It’s the age-old thing where the guy puts on the suit and just looks presentable, but if you’re a female performer, just based on what people are expecting to see, you’ve got to have your wardrobe thing tight; you’ve got to figure out how to travel and have all that. And that’s something that people might not think about, but it’s very real.
I remember the interview with John Clayton and you got into the physical aspect of playing the bass.
That’s my job, just because I’ve always been able to look at what we do from an everyman’s perspective as well as from the artist’s perspective. And I think that if I can kind of make that translation for people, that’s valuable.
You’ve become good friends with the comedian Alonzo Bodden, who does the jazz-oriented cruises, as well as the 80s cruise. Now that you know his creative process, have you taken anything away from that?
I have a tremendous amount of appreciation for what he does. I’ve always felt like comedians were the first artists. If you want to describe art to somebody, describe a comedian and say, “Look, the guy goes through life the same way you do, he gets on stage, and he describes what you’ve been experiencing in a way that you never thought about before.” And it just shines a light on your life, it makes your life more special because you had an artist who can talk about things in an artistic way and talk about your life in an artistic way. And when we play music, we kind of do the same thing but it’s more subtle because it’s notes and it’s emotions. But when Miles played a certain note, man, it resonates because there’s something about it that makes a connection. So for me, comedians were always like the primary artists. I’m sure that back in medieval times, when that comedian, that court jester had to make the king laugh or else he got beheaded. That’s art right there. You’d better make a connection. I’ve done movies for Eddie Murphy, Chris Rock, Jamie Foxx…I’ve always had a connection with these guys. But then hanging with Alonzo—not even just on the ship, we hang out all the time—it’s made me appreciate just how you observe life, how you filter it through your own kind of personal experience, and how you put it back out at people in a different way. It’s really affecting me. And then, in terms of straight up just delivery in between the songs. Even though I’m not trying to be a comedian, just making sure that you make your point clearly and that you can communicate with people—I’ve really benefitted from that, too.
That’s so important, just like in music. Of course, Miles knew it. As a musician, if you play anything with the blues, you’ve got to leave space for drunk people to yell at you and to answer what you say. And I remember, man, seeing my uncles late at night at the parties on the weekend playing a Miles Davis record, and they would be having a conversation with Miles. And Miles just left that space for them to communicate with him. He’d go, “Da, da, da,” and they’d go, “That’s right, Miles!” and my uncle would have his bourbon in his hand. So comedians know that—take a beat, they know there’s going to be a reaction and they take that into consideration. So there are a lot of similarities.
And he does crowd work, which is kind of like improvising a solo.
You’re out there on the edge when you’re going to abandon your script and you’re going to talk to people in the audience and see what you can get from them. And I’ve seen him, man, find a theme with one person that he asks questions to, and then carry that theme and relate it to the fourth person that he talks to, and when it resonates—what’s it called, the “callback”? When he does that callback, man, it’s like listening to Monk finish his solos with the same phrase that he started with. This guy is thinking so far ahead. I said to Alonzo, “Man, you’re thinking 16 bars ahead of where you are, aren’t you?” He said, “Well, I’m not sure what a bar is but I think I know what you’re saying.” So he’s growing, I’m growing, it’s really cool.
How do you deal with four weeks at sea without the family, four weeks without the usual plugged-in life we’re now leading?
The first thing is that these cruises happen at the beginning of the year, which is usually a pretty slow period for musicians; everybody’s waiting for the spring, when people are ready to kind of get out and hear music. So it was kind of a cool thing to do. I’ve been doing it for a number of years now, and our kids have graduated—my wife and I, our four kids—and they’re all out of college. So Brenda can come with me on the cruises now, which is very cool. And we’ve got a crew of friends, so it’s not really being disconnected, it’s being re-connected because everybody needs a break from their phones…It’s just the nature of machines. When technology gives you something new, it’s so exciting that it takes over for a while until people say, “Okay, you know what? We’ve digested it, let’s bring it back to more of a kind of a reasonable amount.” Everything in the 80s was kind of a [making an electronic drum sound], every beat was like that. And then you got to the 90s, and they said, “Well, okay, maybe we got a little bit overboard with all that stuff.” It happens with every piece of technology, so it’s just normal.
Do you have any favorite shore destinations?
For me there are a lot of interesting connections, a lot of musical connections. We try to hit these islands, maybe go beyond the little tourist towns that are close to the ports and go beyond that and try to hear some music. And it’s just amazing. The idea that I can go sit in with a calypso band, or that I can go sit in with a Cuban band, just shows you that the roots and the connections are so strong with all these different types of music. A lot of it had to do with the slave trade and the same beats coming from West Africa and then just kind of going through different filters. But it’s really, really interesting for me. I like Jamaica of course. I like St. Thomas too, it just feels really cool. And we’re going to do some ports in New Orleans, which is really cool because Taj Mahal once told me, “Man, New Orleans ain’t nothing but the most Northern-most point of the Caribbean,” and I was just like, “Man, I never thought about it that way.” But it’s true, it’s all connected. So the fact that we’ve been doing these Caribbean cruises and now all of a sudden we’re going to hit New Orleans, everything is coming full circle, so I’m excited about that.
Do you have any memorable moments?
Yeah, we’ve had quite a few. I remember David Sanborn, Bob James, and I had a late night session, a late night show, where we played all the music from an album called Double Vision, and it was a pretty cool album, and it was very popular in the 80s. And I wrote a song called “Maputo” that was very popular and Al Jarreau sang “Since I Fell For You” on that album, which was really beautiful. Anyway, we performed it and I wasn’t ready for the audience to have such an emotional response to the performance. “Oh yeah, we’re going to play the album from top to bottom.” You’ve heard people do that before. But they said, “You don’t know what this music means to us.” And it was really a beautiful moment.
Another moment that was fantastic was Joe Sample, who’s playing on the smooth cruise and he’s using the house band. With the house band on the smooth cruises we have rehearsal for about a week before everybody gets on the boat, so Joe had rehearsed with these guys. I was just the host. I just said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Joe Sample.” And it was Jay Williams on the drums, and I think Nate Phillips on the bass. Anyway, Joe stops the song in the middle of a performance in front of the audience, and he goes, “I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but when I [count off] a specific tempo, I need these motherfuckers to play the tempo that I count off!” And I’m sitting there going, “Oh, no, he’s not going here!” The audience is looking at each other like, is this part of the act, you know? And I realized that the ginger ale on Joe’s piano might not have been ginger ale. So I was due to sit in with Joe with this group, like the fifth number. So I got up there on stage and I’m looking at the drummer, and he says, “Man, he’s counting off one tempo with his hand, and stomping off another tempo with his feet—I don’t know which way he’s going!” And I’m cracking up. But he just wailed on the band. So at the end I said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sure you realize that Joe Sample is a national treasure, and these musicians are going to have a story for the rest of their lives on how Joe Sample cussed them out on stage.” And I tried to cool it down.
The next night, Joe Sample, David Sanborn and I are playing, and song number one was supposed to be this, song number two was supposed to be “Put It Where You Want It,” and song number three was supposed to be a Beatles song. Anyway, right after song number one, Joe goes into the Beatles song—he skips a song. And David Sanborn said, “Ladies and gentlemen, hold on! When we count off a specific playlist, okay? We need…” [laughs]
There you go, that’s the callback!
David Sanborn is the only one who’s old enough to put it back on Joe, everybody else has too much respect for him. And so it was a beautiful moment. And Joe said, “Sanborn, you better keep your life vest on at all times—you never know when I’m coming after you.” Keep your vest on at all times. Alonzo and I, we were just dying. That was the most hilarious moment ever.
Michael told us about the Super Bowl party that you guys had this past year on the Blue Note at Sea cruise. That sounded like a memorable moment.
People were really enjoying it. We had one act playing then—Robert Glasper—because not everybody feels like they have to observe it as a holy day. You know what I liked about it? Music was intertwined with life. As opposed to setting aside hours just for music.
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The Blue Note at Sea cruise sails January 28 – February 4, 2018. More information here.
JazzTimes is giving away a copy of Miller’s most recent album Afrodeezia on Blue Note Records. Enter to win here.
withmarcusmiller
The Mentality of Music: An Interview with Marcus Miller
Matthew Kassel: So, let’s talk a little about your new record, “A Night in Monte Carlo.”
Marcus Miller: Let’s see, “A Night in Monte Carlo,” there’s a guy named Jean-Rene Palacio, and Jean-Rene is the director of culture for the principality of Monaco, which is at the southern end of France. They have a Monaco Jazz Festival, and a couple of years ago, Jean-Rene asked me if I would be interested in performing at the festival, and whether I wanted to work with the Monte Carlo Philharmonic Orchestra. He said he could put it together, so I thought it was a good idea. And I’m often looking to do different things. You know, in the last few years, I did SMV with Stanley [Clarke] and Victor [Wooten] and I did Tutu Revisited. So I’ve been looking to branch out and do different things, and I thought this would be really nice. So I wrote some arrangements for some songs from my catalogue and some that I thought would be nice and we had about three days of rehearsal in Monaco with the orchestra, and we used my current band at the time, which was Poogie Bell on drums, Federico Pena on keyboards, Alex Han on saxophone; and then I had, as a special guest, DJ Logic on turntables, Roy Hargrove on trumpet, and Raul Midon on vocals and guitar.
MK: Yeah, it was quite a nice assortment of people.
MM: And I was happy about it, because I’ve always been a fan of Roy Hargrove, ever since he came to New York like in the early nineties. And I was always looking for an opportunity to do something with him, and this seemed like a good way to do it because it was going to be such a special event. And then I heard Raul Midon a couple of years ago and was really impressed with his talent. So this seemed like a good opportunity to work with those two and I’m really happy with the way it came out.
MK: Yeah, I liked the arrangements you made. I was wondering what it was like to work with an orchestra in the jazz idiom, because when you’re doing something that’s good, like, say, a solo, and you want to keep on going, did you have any cues or anything with the orchestra so you could continue that in any way?
MM: Yeah, the important thing is your conductor. And I had a great conductor named Damon Gupton. And I said to him, “You know, if we get hot, man, I need you to just extend the section.” So we had sections where we knew that they were on cue: I would give the conductor the cue and then he would give the orchestra the cue. So you need an orchestra that’s a little bit more flexible, because a lot of orchestras have never done that. And the orchestra was pretty hip and pretty open to that kind of thing, so it ended up not being such a big problem.
MK: And you only had three days to prepare for that?
MM: Yeah, we had three days. So, you know, I would have liked to have a few more days, but when you know you only have three days, your concentration goes way up. Everybody was really focused, and we got it done. But it was a lot of work in those three days.1
MK: What are you working on now, if you don’t mind my asking?
MM: Right now I’m just writing some music. You know, I’d like to start my next CD soon, and so I’m writing some music for that. I think I’m going to do some gigs with George Duke and David Sanborn in the next few months, so prepare for that. And just planning it out. I’m going to attack 2011.
MK: Do you feel like you’ve settled musically, or are you still searching?
MM: I’m never settled. I think that’s a real dangerous feeling, to be settled. I’m really always trying to find new situations for myself and meet new challenges to create something new and meaningful. So I’ve got to avoid that feeling of settledness.
MK: Yeah, I know what you mean. Working with Miles [Davis], did you get that notion from him?
MM: I think I was influenced by him. You know, me and a whole generation of musicians were influenced by that aspect of his work: the not-to-get-complacent aspect. I think Miles and John Coltrane, these kind of people, Herbie Hancock—they really have influenced a lot of guys into feeling like you can have a long, wonderful career in music if you have the talent and you have the ability to continue to push your whole life.
MK: What about looking back? Are you opposed to that?
MM: Well, Miles hated it. I don’t mind it so much. But I don’t like to stay there, you know? Once in a while, it’s nice to look back and see what’s back there, but I try not to spend too much time on it. We did Tutu Revisited over the last couple of years, and it was nice to revisit that music, particularly since we were trying not to play it in the same style as we did 25 years ago. I found some young musicians, and we approached it a little differently, and that was nice. I think we actually ended up creating something new, for today. So that was a different way of looking back, as opposed to just going back and playing in the same styles that you did back then and wearing the same clothes…
MK: Did you feel at all like Miles in that situation, with the Tutu Revisited tour? Because you were sort of the veteran with the younger players.
MM: Well, when I was thinking about doing Tutu Revisited, you know, I knew Miles didn’t like to look back, so I figured, what would he like about something like that? And I thought he might like if I found young musicians like he liked to do—and introduce them to the world, introduce the world to them, and help them get to the next level. So I didn’t feel like Miles, but I definitely took inspiration from him.
MK: Yeah, I guess that you wouldn’t feel like Miles, because you’re not Miles. [laughs] I read in an interview that when you worked with Miles, it was like, if you did something, and he liked it, you knew it was good, because his approval was sort of it. But after he died [in 1991], did you feel unmoored in any way? Like less confident by doing something and not necessarily having his word on it?
MM: I think I had enough great experiences with him so that by the time he left I was OK. But there definitely was a void. You know, I would always think, “I can’t wait ‘til Miles hears this,” even if it was something he didn’t have anything to do with. And I used to get a kick out of his reaction to different stuff. So I knew I was going to miss that. But by that point I felt pretty confident in what I was doing, so that I could move forward.
MK: What other musicians were you influenced by, who sort of boosted your confidence?
MM: Luther Vandross, really, is important to me. David Sanborn. Who else? Way back in the day there was a guy names Lonnie Liston Smith who gave me a lot of encouragement because of my compositions. And then Ralph MacDonald, who is a producer who produced Grover Washington Jr. and a lot of other people. He wrote songs for Roberta Flack, and he was really important in giving me encouragement.
MK: Any non-musicians?
MM: Well, if I want to go back, you know, my parents were the first ones. They were always sure that I was going to do something good, even when I was a teenager. They stated that as a fact. So it was really nice to have that kind of support from my parents. And I had a music teacher in high school, named Mr. Guarino, who was really supportive and really important in my life in terms of me feeling like, “You know what? This is something I’m good at.” He let me try any instrument I wanted to try, he pushed me to try other instruments, and not to just stick on one instrument. And so he was very important to me.
MK: Were you learning clarinet at this time?
MM: Yeah, I started with him on clarinet at the age of ten or eleven, and pretty soon after he made me try saxophone as well. And then he encouraged me to try the percussion instruments, and the bass guitar, and whatever I was in to, he just encouraged it, man, he was just really supportive.
MK: The bass clarinet is something that’s sprung up throughout your recordings and your performances. With the bass, you have a front line role with it, but you’re also holding down the rhythm. Is it different for you to play the bass clarinet because you’re not necessarily in control of the rhythm in the same way?
MM: Yeah, it’s a different feeling. It’s a nice feeling, where you just get to ride on top. And you’re not responsible for holding the thing together. You’re just responsible for adding the top layer. And I really like that other perspective. That’s the thing that fascinates me about all the other instruments. It’s not really the instrument as much as the mentality of that instrument. Like if you’re a trumpet player in the back of an orchestra, your job is to wait and wait and wait and then supply power. The same with a percussion instrument in a classical orchestra, where they wait and wait, and then they supply this kind of accent. That’s a different mentality than if you play the violin in an orchestra, where you’re playing all the time. And whether you’re in the front of the orchestra or the back, or you’re in the rhythm section of a funk band and you’re holding it down, or you’re in the horn section just waiting for those little accents to come, you know, I’m really intrigued by all those different mentalities.
MK: Well, the bass clarinet, you know don’t hear it very much, but I really like it.
MM: Oh thanks, yeah, it’s pretty unusual. Eric Dolphy’s probably the most famous jazz bass clarinetist. And then Bennie Maupin, who played with Miles in the 70s, and Herbie Hancock, too, he used it a lot, and he’s very good on it. And he really encouraged me with the bass clarinet. When he saw that I was interested in it, he gave me some tips, and some equipment suggestions which really helped me.
MK: Do you practice that often?
MM: I practice enough to say what I want to say on it. But, you know, I don’t try to go too far with it because I really use it just to express my melodic sense. I don’t want to try to be Eric Dolphy on it. So I practice my bass guitar, and I just use the bass clarinet to express myself.
MK: In your performance in Monte Carlo, when you were playing the bass clarinet, was there a bassist playing that wasn’t you?
MM: That was Federico Pena on the keyboard.
MK: Oh, he was playing the bass line at the bottom?
MM: Yeah, with his left hand, he was playing synth bass.
MK: OK, interesting. I was wondering about that because you were the bassist, and then you weren’t playing bass.
MM: He does a really good job with that, it’s very nice.
MK: Yeah, I couldn’t really tell the difference, or at least, I didn’t think about it until now. So you’re a parent as well, right?
MM: Yup, four kids.
MK: Does your music interfere with your family life at all?
MM: No, I wouldn’t call it interfere, but it’s definitely a part of who I am. And it definitely presents some challenges in terms of the fact that I have to travel a lot. So when my kids were young, I didn’t travel on the road as much. When they were between the ages of like two and twelve, I didn’t travel so much. When they got older, and we got computers and Skype and Internet and all that stuff, it’s a lot easier to stay in touch. So I started stepping it back up when they got to be teenagers because they understand and they know what I do. But I definitely dialed it back and focused on other things. I focused a lot on doing movie scores in those years, where I could stay at home and work, but still stay creative.
MK: Well, that’s a good way to balance it. Do you feel inspired by your family to write music?
MM: Oh yeah, you know, most of my inspiration comes from there. I have a wife and four kids, and there’s so many emotions that go on when you’re raising a family that you can use in your music. So it’s really inspirational.
MK: Do you have any…I’ll give you an example. I was reading, in my first year in university, I was reading a Dostoyevsky novel, “Crime and Punishment,” and I really, really liked it a lot. But then I found out that Dostoyevsky was an anti-Semite and I had problems respecting him after that. But I still wanted to enjoy his book. So with Miles, for example, he didn’t have the most stable family life, so do you feel like you have to look at his art and separate that from whatever problems he may have had with his life?
MM: Well, with Miles I didn’t have to separate it because I basically looked at his music as the purest representation of who he was. And then the other stuff that happened in his life that wasn’t so cool, it was just him being a human being, and struggling with whatever demons had. But it just made me really appreciate his music more, because I’d go, “Wow, as much stuff as he’s going through, his spirit shines so clearly through his music.” I was really amazed and impressed by that, so I just focused on that, you know? I have had situations where…you know, I met a cat, man, whose personality ended up being so much different from what I expected that I lost a little respect for him. But that hasn’t happened often. You know, usually, with great musicians, their personalities are pretty close to who they are musically. So when I met Wayne Shorter, he was exactly what I had imagined him to be. And the same with Herbie Hancock. I know that there’s some guys like Wagner, whose music is beautiful, but I definitely don’t listen to as much Wagner as I might have if he had come from a different part of the world with a different mentality. But because I knew Miles so well, I didn’t lose anything there.
MK: So you’ve found that the community of musicians that you’re a part of is pretty supportive?
MM: No, everybody’s weird, everybody’s crazy, man. But the thing you got to realize is that the people who have it all together, you know, they’re not always the best musicians. They don’t have anything they need to work out. So the guys who are really finding ways to express themselves are people who really need to express themselves. So you’ve got to accept that if you’re a musician, you’re going to run into some characters. No question. That’s just how it works.
MK: So I’m sure people have approached you looking for support, like Alex Han, for example. Or did you approach him?
MM: Yeah, I went to Berklee to do a master class for a week, and I heard him there and just called him to make a couple of gigs with me. Our relationship started from there, and it was very nice. I was very impressed by his talent and his drive and spirit, so it was a pretty natural thing.
MK: Are you going to be recording with him any other time?
MM: Yeah, I’m hoping to get him in the studio in the next couple of months.
MK: And you’re in L.A., right?
MM: I’m in L.A., yeah.
MK: When did you move out there?
MM: I moved out here about sixteen or seventeen years ago because I was producing Luther Vandross, and those pop records take like three months. And he moved out here, and I always ended up spending three months in hotels away from my family, so during one project with Luther, I rented a house and my family came out and we hung out here. And the same thing happened the next year, and the next thing you know, we had to put our kids in school. And roots started going into the ground here in L.A. And then I got into scoring movies, and at the same time, the New York scene over there was changing. It wasn’t as vital as it had once been—this was like the early nineties. So I, along with my family, decided to make a permanent move.
MK: Did you feel any pressure to change musically as a result of the stylistic changes in New York at the time?
MM: No, I didn’t feel any pressure. I mean, no new pressure. I always feel a desire to listen to what’s happening in the world, musically, and try to take what I think is relevant to me so that I can keep my music fresh. So I’ve been doing that all along, and New York was a great place for that. And although I live in L.A., I’m in New York all the time. You know, my dad still lives in New York, so I’m there all the time continuing to listen and see what’s happening. And I basically do that everywhere, all over the world.
MK: What young musicians are you drawn to today, speaking of New York, or wherever?
MM: Well, I like Alex [Han] a lot. I think he’s a great musician, and then Louis Cato, who’s been playing the drums in my band for the last year and a half. And he’s very, very talented. He plays a lot of bass, too, does a lot of recording on bass as well as drums. Esperanza [Spalding] is very talented. I enjoy listening to her. I like the piano player Aaron Parks.
MK: Aaron Parks, yes, I interviewed him a couple of months ago.
MM: Oh yeah, was he cool?
MK: Yeah, he’s a smart guy.
MM: Yeah, I enjoy listening to his music.
MK: Yeah, he sort of has a film-score-type mentality in his playing, and in his arrangements.
MM: Right, right, very visual. He manages to keep your interest, and I like that.
MK: Yeah, I guess that’s the most important thing. Have you ever felt like you’ve had to sacrifice anything to maintain the interest of your audience?
MM: No, not really. I’m very lucky that the stuff that I like, the stuff that moves me, it moves a lot of people. So I’m fortunate in that way. I haven’t ever felt like I’ve sacrificed for my audience. I feel like they’re on my side and I can go where I want.
MK: Well, that’s good. That’s probably the best situation you could have. In terms of the decline of records, has that affected you?
MM: Yeah, in terms of the decline of CD sales, I think I find myself on the road more than I was fifteen years ago. One reason is because I wanted to be with my kids. But also, we had record royalties that were coming in, and that’s not as much now. So I think a lot of musicians find themselves doing it the old-fashioned way, getting out there and touring a lot more. And I think the musicians find themselves holding a lot more of the responsibilities for their careers because they’re making their CDs on their own, they’re promoting themselves, they’re selling their CDs after their shows. I think it’s really changed the dynamics. You’ve got to be really an entrepreneur, and you can’t wait for a record company exec to come in and just say, “Hey, I’m going to be your guy, I’m going to be your godfather and usher you through the music business.” You really got to do it on your own these days.
MK: Yeah, that’s true. Do you ever find yourself teaching?
MM: A little bit, you know, I’ll sometimes do a clinic, or visit schools. I end up doing more talking than playing, just trying to talk about the mentality of being a musician because that’s a thing that a lot of the kids are missing. They can play, but they don’t know why they’re playing yet. Well, they know why, but it’s a young mentality where they’re trying to just impress other musicians. It’s a real athletic kind of mentality. And I just talk about how, overtime, that will change, and you’ll start to make music for different reasons. And you should kind of monitor that, you know, monitor why you’re making music—make sure you’re aware of it and what you’re trying to achieve. Make sure there’s no accidents, that you’re doing everything purposefully.
MK: When did you come to that sort of awareness?
MM: I came to that awareness when I started having people come up to me and tell me what my music had done for them in their lives. You know, they’d say, “Man, I listened to that when I went through a difficult period,” or, “That music was playing when my son was born,” or, “That song helped our people when we were struggling for independence.” I heard that with a song called “Tutu” that I wrote for Miles. And when you realize how powerful music is, it might change your perspective. It certainly changed mine to where I realized that music is more powerful than just impressing other musicians. You know, that’s nice, too. But I think there’s so much you can do with music, and if you have those kinds of experiences, it starts to change you.
MK: Did that intimidate you at all, when someone said, “This helped me get through something.” Did you feel like, “Oh no, maybe I won’t be able to do that again.”
MM: No it doesn’t intimidate you because if you can’t do it again, they’ll just keep playing that record they love. You’ve already done it. And you realize the more heavy you make it for yourself, the less chance you’ll have to do it again, because the music has to come from an uncluttered, unstressed place. So you really got to work hard to keep yourself there, no matter how many great things happen as a result of that music.
MK: Yeah, I read an essay about how music is different because if you’re listening to a CD, say, when you’re fifteen, and you feel really inspired by it, you can go back to it ten years later and relate to the person that you were then, listening to that CD. And then you can sort of figure out more things about yourself and find new things in the music.
MM: Yeah, exactly, because, you know, music basically helps you take snapshots in your life. It basically underscores whatever and whoever you are at the moment. So that’s why, to me, it’s so important to make music for this moment because if someone is listening to my music fifteen or twenty years from now, I want them to be able to see clearly what the world was like right now. I want them to be able to remember how people dance, how people move, how people sounded, how the world sounded, and then remember their own life as well. So that kind of mentality is what keeps me focused on creating music for now. You know, some guys really like to play in older styles, but for me, I really like to try and represent the current world.
MK: Are you inspired by what’s happening in Egypt right now?
MM: Yeah, what really intrigues me the most is that it’s so youth-driven. One of the main guys who organizes that protest is a young guy in his twenties who uses Facebook to coordinate it all. So that’s pretty incredible to me. It just shows how different the world is now—it lets you know we’re truly in a new world.
MK: Do you ever listen back on what you’ve recorded and feel refreshed, knowing that it’s documented and you’ll always have it?
MM: Yeah, lots of times, it’s like looking at an old picture. You go, “Yup, that was me.” [laughs] The good and the bad. Playing jazz, you learn to accept that pretty quickly because with jazz, particularly the older jazz musicians from the 40s and 50s, they didn’t have time do twelve takes. So they played the song once or twice, and whatever it was, that was what they had to live with forever. Imagine that: You can’t go back and fix something that you know is going to last forever. So as a jazz musician, you really have to learn to live with your imperfections like no other artist. If you’re a painter, you just erase. If you’re an author, you just delete and rewrite. As a jazz musician in the recording studio, you just got to live with it. That’s a whole other mentality, and it creates a whole different type of person.
MK: Yeah, that’s the finality of imperfection.
MM: Yeah, and the fact that it’s probably a truer representation of your humanity than something that you could perfect.
MK: I actually prefer imperfection.
MM: Unless you’re doing it. People love hearing other people’s imperfections. When you’re sitting there, and you know you’re supposed to be playing E flat, and it came out D flat, that’s hard to live with.
MK: When you solo, is it like what you hear in your head is what you play?
MM: Yeah, you got to imagine everything first, a split second before I play it. Sometimes you take a mental break and play a scale or something just to get you to the next section of your solo, and you use these tools, but most of the time you try to stay mentality connected to what you’re playing.
MK: Can you hear that in a musician? Like can you tell when a musician is not doing that?
MM: Oh yeah, you can tell musicians who play with their hands instead of their minds. And some of them are good. I mean, there are great players who play with their hands. Lots of rock guitar players, you can tell that they don’t really hear everything they’re playing. They just know I want go from here to here and I want to create this energy. And they have these musical devices that they use to create that energy. And they’re not connected with each note. But it’s different for all musicians. It’s not like there’s any one way to do it. For me, I like to stay connected.
MK: Yeah, are you playing any straight-ahead styles at all in your touring?
MM: I just finished Tutu Revisited and went into some straight-ahead a few times in the course of a concert.
MK: Were you playing stand-up or electric on that tour?
MM: I was playing electric. But I can swing on electric, so it’s not so horrible. For a lot of electric players, it’s just horrible.
MK: Well, I guess it’s like you have to move your fingers in a different way.
MM: Really, you just got to have that feeling. If you didn’t grow up with that feeling, if you didn’t get to that feeling early in your life, it comes out fake.
MK: Is that what you felt earlier, when you started listening to records?
MM: I started playing straight-ahead early, as a teenager. So when you’re a teenager, you learn music in the same way you learn language when you’re like a four- or five-year-old. You absorb it rather than intellectualize it. And the music that you absorb is always more authentic then the music that you intellectually learn. So a lot of electric bass players just learn how to play straight-ahead too late. And then others don’t understand that you have to approach it a little differently because you have to understand the envelope of the sound. The acoustic bass has a really quick envelope. And the electric bass sustains. So you got to figure out: How am I going to make this swing? The best thing I would tell electric bass players is to listen to Jimmy Smith on the organ. Because he walks the organ bass, and it’s long and sustained, and just like an electric bass, even more sustaining than an electric bass, and he still makes it swing. So that’ll show you how electric bass can swing.
MK: Yeah, I love Jimmy Smith. He’s actually one of the first jazz musicians that I started to listen to.
MM: Yeah, he’s incredible.
MK: Did you ever meet him?
MM: Yup, I met Jimmy Smith at A&M Studios, which was Herb Alpert’s studio. And I had the honor of meeting him, and I’m very happy to have met him, because he’s an incredible musician.
MK: What other jazz musicians are you happy to have met, who are gone now?
MM: Well, I’m glad to have met Dizzy Gillespie and Walter Bishop Jr.; Al Haig—he’s like an original bebop guy—and I’m happy to have met Milt Jackson; Stanley Turrentine and Dizzy Reece, who is another trumpet player; Sonny Rollins; you know, the guys who came on the scene in the 60s: Ron Carter, Tony Williams, Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter—I’m honored to know them; and Chick Corea and John McLaughlin and Stevie Wonder and Larry Graham—really important—and Stanley Clarke and Jaco Pastorius. I basically met all the guys who were my heroes, and I feel very blessed to have done so.
MK: Any you didn’t?
MM: Well, I didn’t get to meet Duke Ellington, you know, the guys who were from the 20s and the 30s. I didn’t get to meet Louis Armstrong. I would like to have met those guys. But after that, I’m just glad to have met who I’ve met, you know? And I’m glad to not have been disappointed by them. You run a big risk when you meet your heroes, man. It can end up crushing you. First thing Dizzy did when I met him, he got on the floor on his back and he raised his feet up seven inches and he raised his head up seven inches. That’s all ab work. And he said, “Can you do this?” And he was like 70 years old. Wow, man, that’s pretty impressive. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings by showing him I could do it, too. [laughs] And then he showed me the chords to a song he had written, a bebop tune called “Tin Tin Deo.” And, man, when he showed me the chords that were going down, because in bebop a lot of the stuff was going by so quickly you couldn’t really enjoy the beauty of the harmonies, but when he showed me the chords, I was like, “Oh my goodness, that’s what’s going on?” And I got a whole new appreciation for bebop and for what these guys were doing at that time. Because I like to find out how the guys think, rather than how they play. What makes them smile? What makes them feel like the music is good? You know, Joe Sample and the Crusaders, and all of these guys, what makes it good? And what’s your mentality? I’m really into that.
Interview: Marcus Miller
One of the great session players talks about his work with Luther Vandross, Miles Davis, Aretha Franklin and more
Brooklyn-born
bassist, multi-instrumentalist, composer and session hero Marcus Miller
has worked with pretty much every legend in the game, across all
genres, from Frank Sinatra to Dizzy Gillespie to Chaka Khan
and many more. Starting out playing in bands fronted by cult jazz
leaders Bobbi Humphrey and Michael Urbaniak, Miller was soon gigging all
round the city, and sitting in on sessions in every studio available.
As a composer he worked with Luther Vandross for over 20 years, wrote several tracks on Miles Davis’ Tutu
album and has a parallel career as a film score composer. As well as
his own records, Marcus has featured on over 500 albums for the likes of
Michael Jackson, Roberta Flack, Donald Fagen, Herbie Hancock and Aretha
Franklin. He’s also been named a UNESCO Artist For Peace, which means
he promotes dialogue, peace and unity through jazz. In this excerpt from
his recent interview with RBMA Radio, Miller talks about his remarkable
career.
Could you give us a quick insight into your musical upbringing, where you grew up?
I was born in Brooklyn, New York. My dad’s a
musician. He plays the piano and the organ primarily in church in
classical music. He was practicing in the house all the time, so I grew
up in a very musical environment.
My dad’s dad, my grandfather, was a Minister for a
church called the African Orthodox Episcopal Church which is a church
that was created by Marcus Garvey who was born in Jamaica, came to the
US and was a really, really important civil rights leader back in the
’20s. My grandfather was a friend of his and my grandfather became a
Bishop of the African Orthodox Episcopal Church. He was also a piano
player himself. They told me he played a really cool calypso-style
piano. Anyway, my grandfather named his son after Marcus Garvey. My
dad’s name was William Marcus Miller and I’m William Marcus Miller, Jr.
Bobbi Humphrey - Sunset Burgundy
How did you come to meet and play with Bobbi Humphrey?
I had neighborhood bands in Brooklyn and then in
Queens. At the age of 10 we moved to Queens, started playing in
neighborhood bands there and met a fantastic drummer in high school
named Omar Hakim. I realized really early that I needed to just stay
right by the side of this guy and soak up as much as I could. He’s my
age, but he’s already way down the road in terms of his musical
development.
Anyway Omar and I had a band called Harlem River
Drive that we had for a couple of years while we were in high school.
The guitar player in that band got a gig with Bobbi Humphrey and he
said, “You know she’s looking for a bass player. Come audition.” I came
and auditioned. I guess I was 16 or 17 years old at the time.
She was really hot at the time. She had been
recently signed to Blue Note Records and she was doing a kind of pop
jazz mix that was very popular in the late ’70s. We’re talking Bobbi
Humphrey, Roy Ayers, Lonnie Liston Smith, people like that. That was my first kind of step into that world.
Is that how you met Ralph MacDonald?
Yes, Bobbi Humphrey was getting ready to go into the
studio to record an album and her producer was going to be Ralph
MacDonald. I said, “Bobbi I have a song.” Even at 15, 16 years old I was
putting together my little tunes and I said, “Let me play you my song.”
She actually ended up liking the song and asked Ralph her producer if
they could include that song on her next album. Then she was bold enough
to ask Ralph if he would allow her bass player from her band to play on
the session. Ralph rolled his eyes a bit but he said, “Well, hopefully
he won’t screw things up too badly.”
I came and I got to play on that one song; the song
which I had written. I got to meet Ralph. Did the same thing a year
later. Ralph was producing the next album for Bobbi and I wrote another
song. This time in order to make a better impression, I incorporated a
bass solo into the song, so I got to play and show off a little bit
more.
I didn’t really pay attention to the distinctions that a lot of people create around music. It was all music.
After
that session Ralph said, “Can you read music?” I said, “Yeah.” He said,
“You know, don’t fool with me. Tell me the truth because I’m about to
recommend you to do studio work here in New York, and you have to be
able to read music really well.” I said, “Man, I play classical
clarinet, man. There’s no bassline that you can put in front of me
that’s going to give me any problems.” He said, “Okay. That’s what I
want to hear.”
Ralph started recommending me, and within three
months I was working from 9 AM until 11 PM doing sessions. He was really
instrumental in getting my studio career started.
How did you come to play with Michal Urbaniak and Urszula Dudziak?
I was doing the studio stuff in New York, making a
name for myself, but it was also important to play live, particularly in
New York. One of the people I fell in with was Polish violinist Michal
Urbaniak. Michal was playing fusion music which was very popular at the
end of the ’70s, and he was adding all these Eastern European influences
to it. Instead of playing in the normal 4/4 time that American
musicians are familiar with, his stuff would be in 7/8 time, 11/8 time,
odd time signatures that were more common in Poland where Michal was
from.
How easy did you find it to move
between the worlds of straight up jazz and Bobbi Humphrey, and then
switch to electric funk and Tom Browne, Bernard Wright, Lenny White? Was
moving in between those worlds easy?
In New York there was all sorts of styles happening.
It’s like London. You walk down one block and you’re hearing African
music. The next block you’re hearing Caribbean music. The next block
you’re hearing the beginnings of hip hop, you know what I mean? There’s
all sorts of different styles and we the musicians who were born and
raised in New York, we prided ourselves in being able to go between the
different styles. By the time I was 21, 22 years old it was very, very
natural. I didn’t really pay attention to the distinctions that a lot of
people create around music. It was all music.
Roberta Flack - Oasis (Live on Letterman 1988)
You wrote and played with Roberta Flack. What was that like?
I was in Roberta Flack’s band for a couple of years.
I met Luther Vandross in that band. It was amazing to play in her band
and learn how to really play a ballad, how to use space, how not to play
all the notes, just play the right notes. I think I was 19, 20, maybe
just turning 21, right before I started with Miles Davis. I was playing with Roberta Flack and she’s still very important to me.
A few years later in the mid-’80s I came back to
Roberta Flack, but this time as a writer and a producer. I produced an
album for her called Oasis, and I was very proud to return to
somebody in whose band I had worked. It was fantastic to give back to
Roberta Flack after I had received so much from her.
Luther Vandross - Never Too Much
Another singer you worked with extensively was Luther Vandross. What was it like playing and recording with Luther?
Luther and I started together in Roberta Flack’s
band. Luther was singing background. I was playing bass. During that
time, I’m talking 1980, Luther said, “You know what? I have dreams of
becoming a solo recording artist myself.” I’m going, “Why would you want
to do that? Why would you want to endure all the hassle, man? You know
you’re the number one background singer in New York.”
Luther was doing sessions for everybody; Chic, David Bowie,
Bette Midler. He was just the man. He was singing on all the
commercials; commercials for McDonald’s. He was making good money. I’m
like, “You really sure you want to give all that up to try to be a solo
artist?” He was resolute. He was like, “You know what? I have this sound
in my head and I really think that this is my destiny.”
He got the guys in Roberta’s band together and we
did a demo on a Sunday morning, which was the only time he could get
studio time. We recorded a song called “Never Too Much, ”“Once You Know
How” and “You Stopped Loving Me” which were all songs that ended up
being on his first album. Those actual versions ended up being on his
first album. We recorded about four or five tunes. He spent a year
trying to get a record deal with his demo which wasn’t as easy as one
would think.
He was just a flat out singer. He didn’t have a
gimmick. He didn’t have 12 guys in the group with uniforms and outfits.
He was just a singer. The record companies were a little wary. They were
like, “You have a good voice man, but we’re not sure people are ready
for a guy who just sings.” After about a year, Luther finally hooked up
with a guy named Larkin Arnold who was working for Epic Records and
Larkin believed in Luther, gave him a record deal.
Although the record execs weren’t sure, when that
record came out the public was completely sure. They loved it and Luther
was an instant star. It was incredible to watch the ascendancy. It was
incredible to watch this guy who was my buddy just become a star so
quickly.
Aretha Franklin - Jump To It (Extended Version)
After
his first record, Luther got a call from Clive Davis. Clive was the
head of Arista Records at the time and he said, “Luther, I know you’re a
big fan of Aretha Franklin. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in
producing something for her.” He called me and said, “Marcus we’ve got a
chance to write something together for Aretha Franklin, so write me a
track and I’ll put the words and the lyrics together.”
He came up with a hook, “Jump, jump, jump to it.” He
was so excited. The thing I loved about him was he was so sure of
himself. He said, “Man, this is going to be a number one. No question.”
We recorded the song and Aretha sang it and sure enough it was our first
#1 together.
From that point on we just fell into a songwriting
thing where I’d write tracks and he’d write some melodies, and I’d go
back and change the track to accommodate the melodies that he was
writing.
Aretha and Luther developed such a cool
relationship, and he was such a fan of hers that the stuff he wrote
always seemed so natural for her to sing. “Get It Right” was another big
song that Aretha and Luther did together.
One of the characteristics of those songs was really
big basslines. I played the bassline with my bass guitar and then I’d
get a synthesizer and I’d overdub the same thing, so you had two types
of basses playing the same bassline at the same time.
Do you still speak with Aretha?
I still speak to her from time to time, usually
texting saying, “Aretha, you’ve got to come to the UK.” She said, “I
don’t like airplanes.” The most recent correspondence I had with her, I
said, “Aretha you’ve got to let me bring you to the UK. You’ve got to
come. They would love to see you.” She said, “Okay.” I write back,
“Okay? You mean it?” And she says, “As soon as they build that highway
from New York to London I’m on my way.”
Superstar by Luther Vandross
When you are in the studio and you write something like “Never Too Much,” can you tell it’s going to be massive?
I remember we were recording, I think it was his
third album, and we were recording a song called “Superstar” which was a
version by Luther of a song that had been done about ten years earlier
by a group called The Carpenters. The Carpenters were a real, real true
pop group. They weren’t a soul or R&B group. Beautiful melodies, but
it’s not a song that you would immediately recognize as a song that a
soul singer would choose to cover.
Those are usually the cool covers; when a soul
singer takes something unexpected and flips it. Luther flipped this song
“Superstar” and we were in the studio recording it. In those days, you
recorded everything at the same time. It wasn’t like today where you do
the drums then you rewind the tape and add the bass, then you rewind and
add the guitar, and then you ultimately add the vocals. No, this was
the old school where I’m looking at the drummer and the guitar player.
Luther is at the mic, singing behind the little door
so that our instruments didn’t leak into his vocal microphone. Anyway,
we get towards the end of “Superstar” and I’m going man, I am going to
be hearing this song on the radio for the rest of my life. I’m sure of
it. So I just played a little extra thing on the bass towards the end,
just to say hi to myself down the road, you know what I mean?
I didn’t mess the song up by adding this lick. But,
in fact, if you listen to “Superstar” you can hear Luther singing “Keep
it right there, keep it right there” and people think he’s talking to
whatever woman he’s singing to. He was actually talking to his rhythm
section, because he had a lot of jazz cats in his rhythm section and
they tend to add stuff and improvise even when it’s already feeling
good. Luther was warning us. “Don’t add nothing to this, man.” We got
it.
Donald Fagen - Maxine
Can you tell us about playing with Donald Fagen on Nightfly?
Now in the 80’s, early 80’s, Steely Dan had a huge reputation. In the late ’70s they had already had an album called Aja
which was beautiful album, like a standard-setting album; some
incredible musicianship. So in the early ’80s, Donald made his own
album. I got a call from him, saying, “I need you to come down and play
some bass on some tracks I have.” Now I think I was 22 at the time. I
had heard a lot about these Steely Dan cats. I had heard they put
musicians through it; making them play songs 20, 30 times to get exactly
what they want. People were warning me, “Just be ready to spend a lot
of time in the studio.”
I came in and Donald played me the song called
“Maxine.” He said, “Here’s the music.” I looked at the music and I
played the song down one time. He said, “Okay, that’s great man. Can you
do one more?” I said, “No problem.” I’m ready for the whole journey to
begin, the journey of takes. I played it the second time. He said,
“Great man. Let’s move on to the next song.”
I said, “That’s it?” He said, “No, that sounds
great.” What that means is either he doesn’t like it at all or it works.
When I heard the album, I played on maybe four or five tracks. He
actually kept all the tracks, so I was very surprised, very pleased
because it’s another standard-setting album in my opinion.
Miles Davis - Tutu
Playing and recording with Miles is one thing, but you also composed tracks for him. Was that nerve-racking?
I stayed in Miles’ band for a couple of years as the
bass player, had an amazing time. But then I got into doing the stuff I
was doing with Luther and David Sanborn. A few years later I heard
Miles had decided to move to Warner Brothers Records. David Sanborn, Al
Jarreau, people I had been working with at the time were on Warner
Brothers Records so I felt pretty comfortable to call Tommy LiPuma who
was the A&R guy who had signed Miles.
I said, “Tommy, is Miles with Warner?” And he goes,
“Yeah man, and he’s looking to do something different.” He sent me a
George Duke tune that Miles liked and he says, “This is kind of like the
stuff that Miles likes now.” It was very contemporary for 1985, had a
real solid techno element to it. I said, “Man, if Miles wants to go in
that direction, I’m going to write something. I’ll call you back.”
I sat down and wrote “Tutu” and a couple of other
songs and came to the studio. I played Tommy the songs I had written. He
said, “That’s great man. Let’s start recording them.” I said, “Where’s
the band?” He said, “Don’t worry about the band. I want it to sound
exactly like your demo.” I said, “Well, I played all the instruments on
the demo.” He said, “Well, then get all your instruments here to the
studio.”
I started layering the instruments like I would do
on a demo, and I said, “Man, I don’t know how Miles is going to feel
about all this one guy playing everything. This is more how we do like
pop records.” Tommy said, “I think Miles is going to love it.”
Miles said, “Look, I know you know what I should be doing. Tell me what you need.”
A
few days later Miles came in and he actually did love it. He said,
“Man, continue. That sounds great. Let me know when you need me.” When I
finally did need trumpet that’s when things got a little intimidating,
because now here’s Miles Davis sitting in a chair and I’m sitting next
to him. He’s waiting for me to give him direction.
We played the tape of “Tutu” for Miles a couple of
times and he’s just doodling, and it’s not quite what I had hoped he
would play, but I’m a little too nervous to say. Then he finally stops
the tape and says, “Listen, man. When are you going to start telling me
what to do?” I said, “Oh, I’m sorry man.”
He said, “Look, I know you know what I should be
doing. I know you have the sound in your head. Tell me what you need.” I
began to give him the first instructions, the first directions. He
would do it and it sounded exactly like I hoped it would sound. I got
more comfortable because the music began to take over my fear. By the
end of the song, I was dancing around him while he’s playing the
trumpet. I’m pointing at him. I’m holding my hand up: “Don’t play here.”
He got a little tickled grin on his face as I’m having fun because
that’s my natural nature. I love music. I get excited.
I continued working with Miles for the rest of Tutu
because they asked me to write more. Originally it was just three
songs, but they liked the direction of those songs and they asked me to
continue. Then we worked on a soundtrack called Siesta and another album called Amandla. It was an incredible period of my life.
Leading on to your own music, was it a natural progression to write your own albums?
Miles Davis died in 1991. Who else do you work with
after you’ve worked with Miles? You know what I mean? I said I guess
it’s time for me to get serious about doing my own thing. It was very
natural and if you listen to the music that I did right after Miles
passed, you can definitely hear that I was still in that period where
I’d been writing for Miles. There is very much a connection between Amandla and my The Sun Don’t Lie
album. I realized, “Okay, I need to continue. I need to develop my own
proper sound, something that people will recognize as mine.” That was
‘93 and here we are in 2015. My latest album is Afrodeezia and
I’m pretty confident that I have a sound that people know is me. As a
matter of fact, I’m on like the second or third version of myself after
those 24 years.
Marcus Miller - Afrodeezia (Trailer)
Talk a bit about the Afrodeezia album. Does it feel different because you’re doing it in conjunction with UNESCO?
Afrodeezia was the first album that I
decided not to just have the music be influenced by different styles,
but to have musicians who played these different styles perform with me.
I have some musicians from Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, Morocco. I have
some musicians from Rio de Janeiro, from Trinidad in the Caribbean.
With this album I decided to follow the voyage of my ancestors. I’m the
spokesperson for a UNESCO project called The Slave Route Project and the goal there is to raise awareness of the history of slavery and make sure the story isn’t forgotten.
How do you think music has the power to bring about positive social change?
Music absolutely has power to help bring about
social change. It’s not just an idea of mine. I mean, I was 8 or 9 years
old when Martin Luther King was assassinated and all I remember is
watching the black and white TV and watching all hundreds of people
marching, mourning Martin Luther King’s passing, hand-in-hand singing
“We Shall Overcome.” I didn’t know much, but I knew that this music,
this song that they were singing, was providing them with strength.
Then James Brown came out with a song called “Say It
Loud. I’m Black and I’m Proud” and that was the first record I ever
bought. I put that thing on and it changed my whole world. I started
wearing my hair in an Afro and enjoying my blackness, just being proud
of that. Music was one of the important things that changed that
mentality for me.
August 1, 2018
France Musique
No stranger to the Jazz in Marciac festival, Marcus Miller has
come to take listeners on a deep and personal journey. An interview with
Marcus Miller at the 2018 Jazz in Marciac festival.
Your latest albumLaid Blackis an important album in terms of its message: what is the role of this album for you?
Well firstly it's a play on words. Everybody knows "laid back", and Laid Black is a play on that. However, on a deeper level, at the foundation of a lot of American music is black music...yet today we have these extremists in America who, all of a sudden, no longer recognise the contribution that black people have made to our country, even though a lot of black culture and the things that blacks have provided for America are at the foundation of the country: the road is laid with black contributions, and i think that's important to remember.
I hear people ask "What have blacks contributed to this country"? With jazz, we gave America its first identity. Before World War II, America was in many ways a junior version of Europe. Then all of a sudden Duke Ellington showed up with this music that could have only been created in America, with its special mix of people. I think we need to recognise that within the foundation of all these different American musical styles, and the foundation of a lot of America itself, there is a black contribution. So: Laid Black.
Was the album conceived as a message?
Not entirely... If you play the music, it just feels good. But if you want to ask a question or if you want to look deeper, there is a message, it's all there.
Your latest album brings in many different influences including hip hop and trap music. Are these today's contributions?
I did an album called Afrodeezia around four years ago, and at the time i was following the route of my ancestors. I am a spokesperson for UNESCO's Slave Route Project, trying to raise awareness of slavery, in particular for young people who don't really know what happened. I followed the route and jammed with musicians from West and North Africa, from the Caribbean, from South America and then the south of the US, following the history of slavery. Laid Black is a continuation of this idea, where I'm saying "this is where we are today, back home, with the good and the bad. You hear the hip hop, the funk, the R'n'B, all these styles that grew out of this experience that started with the Afrodeezia.
You say "the good and the bad"... is there still some good today, even with the increasingly open and unchecked racism in the United States?
Oh yeah! I have to admit that I thought things were much better in the 70s and 80s, but with the internet and with cellphones, America has had to really face the realities, and it's like lifting up a rock and seeing all this stuff underneath that you didn't know was there [laughs]. Now is the time to straighten these things. I don't think these situations are going to last, but it's going to be difficult. All progress is difficult, but I have hope.
The first 45 rpm record i ever bought was James Brown's "Say it loud I'm black and i'm proud" This was the beginning of black consciousness, of being proud of who you were, even in America. So I grew up in that era, it was so cool. I had an afro, we had our style, our own movies, it was an incredible time... All America was really intent on trying to eradicate racism, or at least it felt that way. But when you stay around long enough, you realise that people have very short memories, and if one generation doesn't pass this mentality down to the next, it pops back up. So we are in a situation now where it feels like we've gone backwards a little bit, but i think it's just temporary. We have to remind the people.
You recently composed the soundtrack for the film Marshall, released in 2017. Was this an important project for you?
Absolutely. My buddy Reginald Hudling, the director, said he wanted to do a film about Thurgood Marshall. A story about black America and how to fight racism, how to fight the fight. We've always had two sides: Martin [Luther King] and Malcolm [X]. Whereas Malcolm would often say "Screw em, let's fight back", Martin chose to appeal to their better instincts. But there was another guy, Thurgood Marshall, that people don't talk about. His attitude was "Let's fight them with the law. Let's take the American laws that exist and make them apply to everybody". This was his mentality. He wasn't loud about it, he was simply efficient. First he studied the laws and defended blacks who were unfairly accused of crimes simply based on the colour of their skin. Everyday he would go to a different city to defend blacks who were unfairly treated. Then he became a Supreme Court judge, looked at the legal system and said "Hey, if this is the law, then you must apply it equally". He passed some incredible laws, such as the case of Brown vs Board of Education, and laws allowing young blacks to get equal education. People don't know about that particular method of effecting change, but he was very effective at that, so I believed the people need to hear that story too...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marcus_Miller
Marcus Miller
Marcus Miller in 2007
Life and career
Early life
Miller was born in Brooklyn, New York City, in 1959 and raised in a musical family. His father, William Miller, was a church organist and choir director; Miller is jazz pianist Wynton Kelly's cousin.[4] Miller is classically trained as a clarinetist and also plays keyboards, saxophone and guitar. He began to work regularly in New York City, eventually playing bass and writing music for jazz flutist Bobbi Humphrey and keyboardist Lonnie Liston Smith. Miller became a session musician.Professional career
Miller in 2007
Between 1988 and 1990 he appeared regularly both as a musical director and also as the house band bass player in the Sunday Night Band during two seasons of Sunday Night on NBC late-night television, hosted by David Sanborn.[8][9]
As a composer, Miller co-wrote and produced several songs on the Miles Davis album Tutu, including its title track.[10][11] He also composed "Chicago Song" for David Sanborn and co-wrote "'Til My Baby Comes Home", "It's Over Now", "For You to Love", and "Power of Love" for Luther Vandross. Miller also wrote "Da Butt", which was featured in Spike Lee's School Daze.[2][6] In addition, he composed and provided spoken vocals on "Burn it Up", which was featured on Najee's 1992 album Just An Illusion.
In 1997 he played bass guitar and bass clarinet in a band called Legends, featuring Eric Clapton (guitars and vocals), Joe Sample (piano), David Sanborn (alto sax) and Steve Gadd (drums).[2] It was an 11-date tour of major jazz festivals in Europe. In 2008 Miller formed SMV with Stanley Clarke and Victor Wooten for a world tour lasting 18 months.[12] In summer 2011, Miller toured along with Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter in a tour celebrating the 20th anniversary of Miles Davis passing.
Miller also hosts a jazz history and influences show called Miller Time with Marcus Miller on the Real Jazz channel of Sirius XM Holdings satellite radio system.[13] In addition to his recording and performance career, Miller has established a parallel career as a film score composer (see listing below), having written numerous scores for films.[14]
Awards and honors
Miller in 2009
Miller in 2017
Instruments
Miller is noted for playing a 1977 Fender Jazz Bass that was modified by Roger Sadowsky with the addition of a Bartolini preamp so he could control his sound in the studio.[18][citation needed] Fender started to produce a Marcus Miller signature Fender Jazz Bass in four-string (made in Japan) and five-string (made in U.S) versions.[19] Later, Fender moved the production of the four-string to their Mexico factory[20] and discontinued both four- and five-string models in 2015. DR Strings also produced a series of Marcus Miller signature stainless steel strings known as "Fat Beams", which come in a variety of sizes.[21]As of 2015, Dunlop has begun producing Marcus Miller Super Bright bass strings which Miller has switched to.[22] In 2015, Marcus began endorsing Sire Guitars, with whom he has a signature line of basses.[23]
Discography
As leader
Studio albums
- 1983: Suddenly (Warner Bros.)
- 1984: Marcus Miller (Warner Bros.)
- 1993: The Sun Don't Lie (Dreyfus Jazz)
- 1995: Tales (Dreyfus Jazz)
- 2001: M² (Telarc)
- 2005: Silver Rain (Koch)
- 2007: Free (3 Deuces)
- 2008: Marcus (Concord)
- 2008: Thunder (Heads Up) - with SMV
- 2008: The Other Tapes (Dreyfus Jazz)
- 2012: Renaissance (Dreyfus Jazz)
- 2015: Afrodeezia (Victor)
- 2018: Laid Black (Blue Note)
Live albums
- 1998: Live & More
- 2002: The Ozell Tapes Live: The Official Bootleg
- 2004: Dreyfus Night in Paris (with Michel Petrucciani, Biréli Lagrène, Kenny Garrett and Lenny White, recorded in 1994)
- 2008: Panther – Live
- 2012: Live in Lugano – A Jazz Hour with Marcus Miller, July 2008
- 2010: A Night in Monte Carlo – Live 2009
- 2011: Tutu Revisited – Live 2010
As sideman
With Tom Browne- 1979: Browne Sugar
- 1991: Healing the Wounds
- 1981: The Man with the Horn
- 1982: We Want Miles
- 1983: Star People
- 1986: Tutu
- 1987: Music From Siesta
- 1989: Amandla
- 2002: The Complete Miles Davis at Montreux
- 1982: The Nightfly
- 1983: Get It Right
- Closer to the Source (Atlantic, 1984)
- 1980: Mountain Dance
- 1987: The Jamaica Boys
- 1989: The Jamaica Boys II: J. Boys
- 1980: Hideaway
- 1981: Voyeur
- 1982: As We Speak
- 1983: Backstreet
- 1984: Straight to the Heart
- 1986: Double Vision (with Bob James)
- 1987: Change of Heart
- 1988: Close-Up
- 1991: Another Hand
- 1992: Upfront
- 1994: Hearsay
- 1995: Pearls
- 1995: Lovesongs
- 1996: Songs from the Night Before
- 1999: Inside
- Dreams of Tomorrow (Doctor Jazz, 1983)
- 1981: Never Too Much
- 1983: "Busy Body"
- 1985: The Night I Fell in Love
- 1985: "'Til My Baby Comes Home"
- 1985: "It's Over Now"
- 1986: "I Really Didn't Mean It"
- 1986: "Give Me the Reason"
- 1987: "Stop to Love"
- 1987: "See Me"
- 1988: "Luther in Love – Megamix"
- 1988: "Any Love"
- 1988: "She Won't Talk to Me"
- 1989: "The Best of Love"
- 1989: "Come Back"
- 1991: "The Rush"
- 1991: "Power of Love / Love Power" (Uno Clio & Colin and Carl Remix)
- 1991: "Power of Love / Love Power"
- 1991: "Power of Love"
- 1993: "Never Let Me Go"
- 1993: "Heaven Knows"
- 1995: "This Is Christmas"
- 1995: "Power of Love / Love Power" (The Frankie Knuckles Mixes)
- 1996: "Your Secret Love"
- 1996: "I Can Make It Better"
- 1998: "I Know"
- 2001: "Luther Vandross"
- 2003: "Dance with My Father"
- 2007: "Love, Luther"
- 1980: Winelight
- 1981: Come Morning
- 1982: The Best Is Yet to Come
- 1984: Inside Moves
- 1986: A House Full of Love
- 1981: Nard
Film scores
- 1987: Siesta
- 1990: House Party (featuring Kid & Play)
- 1992: Boomerang (featuring Eddie Murphy)
- 1994: Above the Rim (featuring Tupac Shakur)
- 1994: A Low Down Dirty Shame (featuring Keenen Ivory Wayans)
- 1996: The Great White Hype (featuring Samuel L. Jackson)
- 1997: The Sixth Man (featuring Marlon Wayans)
- 1999: An American Love Story
- 2000: The Ladies Man (featuring Tim Meadows)
- 2001: The Trumpet of the Swan (featuring Reese Witherspoon)
- 2001: The Brothers (featuring Morris Chestnut)
- 2001: Two Can Play That Game (featuring Vivica Fox)
- 2002: Serving Sara (featuring Matthew Perry)
- 2003: Deliver Us from Eva (featuring LL Cool J)
- 2003: Head of State (featuring Chris Rock)
- 2004: Breakin' All the Rules (featuring Jamie Foxx)
- 2005: King's Ransom (featuring Anthony Anderson)
- 2006: Save the Last Dance 2 (featuring Izabella Miko)
- 2007: I Think I Love My Wife (featuring Chris Rock)
- 2007: This Christmas (featuring Idris Elba)
- 2008: Thunder (featuring Stanley Clarke and Victor Wooten)
- 2009: Good Hair (featuring Chris Rock and SMV)
- 2009: Obsessed (featuring Beyoncé Knowles)
- 2012: Think Like a Man
- 2014: About Last Night
- 2017: Marshall
- 2017: Nice Evening
References
- Sire Revolution Official (October 20, 2016). "Sire Marcusmiller Interview". Retrieved May 30, 2019 – via YouTube.
