John McLaughlin
John McLaughlin hardly needs an introduction to jazz fans. His intense guitar playing formed a core element of Miles Davis' electric groups in the 60s, where he had his first, enthusiastic recognition. After working with Miles, and many other famed groups of the time, he started his own group, the Mahavishnu Orchestra. One of the most popular and groundbreaking jazz-rock-fusion groups ever, Mahavishnu remains as impressive and relevant today as it was in the early 70s. Since then, McLaughlin has continued to create vital music. His jazz recordings have paid tribute to influences like John Coltrane, while he has also expanded into flamenco music with several recordings together with Paco De Lucia and Al DiMeola. Recently, too, he has scored an orchestral work that, once again, opens up new territory, where he seems just as comfortable as he is everywhere else. One of McLaughlin's most consistent interests, though, is Indian music. Having studied Indian music and formed the group Shakti, he continues to play with founding member, tabla master Zakir Hussein. They recently came to Japan for a sold-out show to a wildly enthusiastic audience. Before the show, McLaughlin took time to talk about his love of all kinds of music, and of life.
Was it Coltrane that got you into Indian music?
Not really, but he arrived at that time. One of the big events in my life was the release of "A Love Supreme." I'd been listening to him with Miles Davis and "Giant Steps," but with "Love Supreme" I couldn't get into the music really. But on the back of the album he put that poem, really a prayer. That prayer on the back really floored me. I used to listen to this record every day. It took me about nine months, I'm not kidding, until one day I put the record on and suddenly, I HEARD it. It clicked, and it was absolutely mind-blowing, with all this spiritual energy coming from the music. That's why Coltrane is my ultimate hero. He is one of the greatest musicians of the twentieth century.
His approach is quite different from Miles.
Miles, who was not at all what you'd call a seeker, was capable of producing the most profound music. Of course, I'd heard comments from Coltrane about Miles and how much Miles had helped him. Miles helped me in so many ways. He was an absolutely fantastic artist, with an instinct and intuition that was nothing short of impeccable. I was so lucky to meet Miles in the 60s and play with him. My debt to him is unpayable.
I just got the re-released Jack Johnson recordings, which is fantastic music.
Yes, that was something special. It was a special recording session. When Miles told me that that was his favorite recording of all time, it really blew me away. I started listening to Miles when I was fifteen, 1950-something, even before the landmark records, like "Milestones" in 1958. He'd already recorded with Charlie Parker, done stuff with Lee Konitz, the experiments with Gil Evans. Then of course, when he put out "Milestones," then "Kind of Blue," those records put me on a path in my life. That was my school and those are my heroes, Trane [John Coltrane], Cannonball [Adderly], Bill Evans.
So, you came to Indian music on your own?
By 1964, I'd become very interested in philosophical research, you might call it, or a quest for my own identity. I was aware of Indian music, after being introduced to it through its thought. I became interested in the work of people like Vivekananda. So, I started to read, but you know I'm an old hippie, dropping those tabs like everybody else. But by the end of the 60s I started practicing yoga and didn't want to take anything to alter my state of consciousness. I wanted to find an alternate state of consciousness naturally. I began breathing exercises. So, by the time this record came out, I was already very much involved in the quest, shall we say? I was aware of Indian music and its inclusiveness, the way it incorporates every aspect of the human being.
It's like an entire spiritual system in itself.
Yes, it is really, and that's what was missing in the western musical tradition. Now, don't get me wrong, when I listen to Mozart or Ravel or these composers, the music is sublime. It's on the same level. The difference, I think, with Indian music is that it represents fully all aspects of the human being, from the most humorous and most funny to the most profound and most sacred. The only sacred music in the west was a mass until Coltrane came. Part of my fascination with Indian philosophy was that it addressed the existential questions that I had in the late 60s and early 70s in such a wonderful way. When I discovered the meaningfulness of Indian music and also its closeness to jazz in terms of rhythmic improvisation, I was floored. I began to study Indian music theory, North Indian music, South Indian music, and I even studied veena [a 4, 5 or 7 stringed instrument similar to a sitar] for a year, but it was just a question of time before I realized that I was really a guitar player and not a veena player, so I stuck with the theoretical stuff, and with guitar.
Still, you had to have the music taught to you in some way.
I was an extracurricular student at that time at Wesleyan and I can tell there was not just an Indian music department, but a South Indian music department and they had a lot of students, a lot of Americans absolutely into this music. I got a chance to become a student of Ravi Shankar, to continue my education in both North Indian and South Indian music, of which he is also a master. So, I was really blessed to have this kind of opportunity. I should point out, though, that I also realized I did not want to become an Indian musician. I am a western musician who studied harmony as part of my music school existence. What really drew me to this was having met the players. I knew Zakir [Hussein] in 1969, and he is amazing even today. After 35 years together, he constantly amazes me with his inventive creativity and mastery of Indian music, and just music in general. My desire to know Indian music was the desire to play with these people that I admired so much. And in the end, this was all that I wanted to do. To play with them though, you have to know what's going on.
That must have been quite different from playing with jazz musicians.
They are very similar really in that they also are struggling to master their instruments and to master their traditions. But at the same time, the Indian musicians are very adventurous and they are also building bridges. In the 60s, people like Ravi Shankar were already building bridges, and of course, the Beatles helped, but since then there's a lot of water under the bridge. Indian musicians generally are seeking to enrich their own traditions, sometimes by bringing in western influences. I think this is one of the reasons that Shakti has been able to last throughout thirty some years, despite the fact that Zakir and I are now the older brothers in the band. Zakir's love of music, whether east, west, north or south, is equal to my own. He's as fascinated with western music as I am with eastern music. It's this love and affection just generally for music that's allowed us to continue to be together and to evolve as musicians.
How is improvisation different in Indian music?
The essential difference between the cultures is harmony. They do not employ harmony in the sense that western culture employs it. They have developed extensively and in a far more cultivated way, the playing of melody and rhythm. Improvisation is essentially a spontaneous art form. It's very hard to say in words what it is exactly, because to improvise you have to be free, and we're talking ideals here. In order to improvise you need these certain number of acquisitions, mastery of the instrument, again we're talking ideals here, and mastery of rhythm, its exposition and articulation, and melody, which can be very personal. The aspect of melody and phrasing in India has developed extensively because they don't have this concern with harmony so they are able to have embroidering or elaboration by a bending of the notes done in a very precise and a scientific way that has been designated over the centuries.
It's like a blues tone?
The bended note in blues is a very primitive way of doing the same thing. When you bend a note, you are expressing something, whether you go up or go down. In blues, you basically go up, but it gets to be crowded on one side. When you start to make a real study of Indian sliding, it's really a very precise way of phrasing, which never developed in the west because we had other concerns. In the west, playing the right note, playing the right harmony, and interpretation is more important. Part of this comes from piano, which is the dominating instrument in the west, where there is no bending of notes. Even with the violin, even though it's a fretless instrument, you typically don't bend notes. We have been more concerned with the tempered scale in the west, and they don't have these restrictions in India. They have impeccable ears for the tunings. Even the singers are marvelously and purely in tune. They have this drone, too, where you have to really be in tune, because if you are out of tune, then you are back to the drawing board, back for another year of training.
But, improvisation is not just technique?
The improvisation really concerns your personality. The freedom of the music allows that, not just the fact that it's inclusive and incorporates all the dimensions of the human being. It allows you to be who you really are—in music. You have the freedom on the condition that you have the mastery. It brings us back to what I realized quite a long time ago that perfect freedom basically comes from perfect discipline. To get to the unknown we have to go through the known, but all the way.
Was the feeling of being yourself different in jazz?
No, not at all. This is one of the wonderful common denominators that jazz and Indian music have together. It's not the cult of the personality, because we have to play together and give each other help to reach the highest possible point of inspiration. But at the same time, you can be who you truly are, on condition that you have gone through the various disciplines, theoretical, practical, and mastery of music. We have so much in common. The primary thing is rhythm. Jazz is essentially rhythmic. It's more than that of course, but without the rhythm and without the beat, it can't exist. Indian music is basically the same.
Shakti really fits together quite well, while other groups never quite mesh.
That's one of the criticisms with this so-called world music. It's done wonderful things. It's introduced people to people, cultures to cultures. This is great bridge-building. When I first started Shakti, I incurred the wrath of my record company. You have to take the rough with the smooth. Of course, there's some crummy music in the category of world music, but there's crummy music everywhere. There's crummy music in jazz, crummy music in Indian music, believe me, in rock, everywhere, but there's also great music. With Shakti, we gave only small concerts at first. With Shakti, though, we really played together. Some of these world bands, they're not really playing together. That is, they're not improvising, and not stimulating each other to get to a place where they've never been before. You don't get there through what you already know, but through the encouragement of people around you. This can only happen in a spontaneous way. There's not enough spontaneity, in my feeling, in some of this world music.
When you play guitar with Indian musicians, you have to adapt to them, but they must also have to adapt to you, since it's not a traditional Indian instrument.
It's very easy. They don't really have to change. They are just such fantastic musicians. By choice, they can change, but I want them to be themselves totally. Like in any jazz group, that's all I want any musician to be, is to be themselves. But what works in Shakti is they know I don't want to be an Indian musician. Of course, I had to learn a lot, with my teachers. In fact, it was Ravi Shankar who taught me konnakol, a South Indian way of learning rhythm without an instrument. You can sing it and keep the beats with your hand. It's a marvelous system.
It must be difficult.
No, it's incredibly easy, but it goes to the most sophisticated heights. It's all mathematics of the groove, and how you subdivide and then calculate spontaneously as you play. It's another mindset. I studied konnakol in the 70s and then with Shakti, I was hearing and learning these compositions every night. I would work on my konnakol, "if I subdivide in this way or…" and so on. Just knowing the general rules of Indian music, how to end, the rhythmic phrasing, and then it really becomes part of your baggage.
And part of your memory. You must start to remember the music in different ways.
When you study konnakol, after a few months it becomes very natural. It becomes an integral part of your thinking. But what's marvelous about konnakol is that you can hear rhythms from anywhere in the world, and you can know absolutely what they are doing immediately, where the subdivisions are coming, what the mathematics is doing. It's fantastic. It's one of the key points that allowed me to play with these great Indian musicians. When I was on tour, I would think in konnakol, how do you subdivide seven? And someone would say, you can do it like this, and I would be in my room every night trying to figure out how to do it. Even now, I know what they are doing, but I'm often just sitting there in amazement keeping the rhythmic cycle for them.