Michael Brecker

In the pristine eyes of jazz purists, saxophonist Michael Brecker's status as musician was tainted by his work as a studio musician and successful jazz-funk fusion artist. His thirty years of promiscuous studio recordings with everyone from the Average White Band, Parliament, Paul Simon, James Taylor, Dire Straits and even Aerosmith would seem to have doomed him forever to the lowest realms of the authenticity-obsessed hierarchy of jazz. The popularity of his 1970s fusion band, the Brecker Brothers, co-led with brother Randy, would seem to have banished him forever from the higher realm of jazz to the pop music studio dungeons.

Little by little, though, Brecker has edged back towards jazz. Coveted spots with jazz masters such as Mark Murphy, Chick Corea and Pat Metheny started to wash away the pop music phrasings and reveal his extensive jazz chops. His own recordings in the late 80s and 90s showcased his well-honed technique and sharp sense of styling. Two years ago, his Coltrane-inspired playing on the recent Directions in Music with Herbie Hancock and roy Hargrove restored him in many eyes, and ears, as a serious contender for high-status jazz saxophone player.

Last year, Brecker released his most innovative recording, "Wide Angle," a quindectet with an unusual combination of brass and strings. Though Brecker surely played on countless studio sessions where strings added nothing but sweetness and respectability, the arrangements on "Wide Angle" do just the opposite. The four strings add an atonal edginess that slices open the jazz harmonies from within and battle it out with the bop-heavy brass for one of the most unique sounds of any modern jazz ensemble.

Last week, he brought his 15-piece group of classical strings and jazz stalwarts to Tokyo Blue Note for a week of packed out shows. In the middle of the week, however, drummer Antonio Sanchez was whacked by the flu and had to miss the last set. Brecker and guitarist Adam Rogers sat in on drums for several numbers, eliciting great amusement, but also a sharper focus, from the band, and from the audience. Brecker took time to talk about his drumming, the band and his inspiration.

I want to ask you about your drumming, first of all...

(Laughing loudly)That's the end of my drumming career. You were there for that show? Antonio was unfortunately taken ill. It was just a flash virus, but it wasn't worth letting it get worse. He's such an important addition. He makes the music come alive. Well, it was an interesting evening. I didn't panic, but it was just deal with the situation.

With the drummer out, though, all these other textures seemed to come out.

Some things were revealed. I heard some things that I hadn't heard before, or hadn't heard in a while. It's important to say that in most bands the drummer becomes the leader. The drums set up the dynamics and keep everything in motion. Rhythm is really the most important part of the music. And for me, you could almost say the notes are simply decoration. Antonio (Sanchez) is such a fantastic musician. But it was fun, well, I should say interesting, to try to do it without him. I don't want to do it again, though.

When everything else was going well for you, Directions in Music, your own group recordings and playing with many interesting musicians, what was your impulse to make this larger group?

It wasn't like I had a lifelong dream, and it wasn't even something that I had given much thought to until about two and half years ago when I did a tour for the British Arts Council. It was a rhythm section from America and eight musicians from Britain—three woodwind players, three strings and two brass. It was old tunes of mine re-arranged by Gil Goldstein. I really enjoyed hearing the textures and colors, really the whole palette, so much I wanted to record it. I went back home and started writing for a large ensemble, and tried my hand at arranging, and all this music just came out. So that grew into this record.

Does your writing and arranging have a wash back effect on your playing?

I think both go hand in hand. I truly enjoy writing. I've never really considered myself a composer. I'm a player. But I enjoy writing and coming up with vehicles that are challenging. And I enjoy the experience of then playing them. I also had the expert help of Gil Goldstein. He's a marvelous orchestrator and arranger. I gave him my things and he re-orchestrated my things in a way that was, well, better, for a lack of a better word. He kept the voicings, but re-assigned them. I tend to do things like if I hear a high note, just give it to the flute, but he re-arranged those in other ways. It was interesting that on the record Gil suggested not having any piano, because I wrote everything with piano. He had the idea to have only guitar. I liked the idea of letting the orchestration be the piano.

There are not that many groups with this configuration of brass and strings.

I like that it's a big band without being a big band. Not that I have anything against big bands, I like them, but I thought this was a fresh approach to looking at a large ensemble with a choice of different textures.

Also, it's interesting that the strings are not just adding romantic background.

No, no, I didn't want that. The strings are very active. They are providing a cushion in a few spots, but I really didn't want that. I didn't want them there for sweetening. The musicians  enjoy themselves as well. They like being in this environment.

Are they jazz players?

They are mainly classical players with a lot of jazz experience, and a lot of improvisational experience. The cellist, David Eggers is kind of a genius. He can play so many totally different ways on the cello. He picks up the cello on his knee and plays it like a guitar. He plays things I can't believe. Meg Okura (on violin) is actually a jazz musician but with superb training in classical music. The strings all improvise together so beautifully. Every night they come up different motifs and colors and are constantly shifting lead voices. I give them a lot of space to play alone just as a section. I do that because I can't imagine what they’ll come up with next. They have the ability to improvise in present time and are very sensitive musicians, so it's always a lot of fun.

I assume you're going to record with them again?

There is possibly going to be a live album, maybe even from here. I'm not even sure yet. In Tokyo, we've been playing some of the tunes from the original tour of England as well. Those have never been recorded, so I want to do that.

Often when musicians try a "project" it seems to come out of dissatisfaction with some aspect of jazz, is that your motivation here?

No, not for me. I wish I had the intelligence to even be able to assemble that amount of information and make a judgment that this hasn't been done or that should have been done. I have to like something, and things that are challenging are exciting. It may not be fresh for someone else, but it's just things that I haven't done that I'd like to try my hand at. It might have been done fifty times before, but it's fresh for me. It's that and becoming cognizant of the little gifts that were given every day, little clues that if you're aware enough you see them. You can either slough them off or you can say, wait a minute, that happened for a reason, so maybe I can use that somehow. Everybody has that every day, and I think that's just the way the universe works. The trick is to be able to recognize it, and I probably miss most of the clues. But occasionally I catch one, and say that's really cool, and that connects here. That's why patience is nice, because after all we are given all the tools we need.

I really notice that this band is enjoying themselves and interacting. They're turning around and looking at each other in the eyes on stage and smiling. I don't get that feeling with a lot of other groups.

Maybe often musicians are enjoying themselves but maybe not showing it. They get into the serious affect. You're supposed to look cool, and be cool, and look detached and all that stuff. I really like to enjoy myself when I'm playing. I'm at that stage of life when every chance of playing seems like a gift. Every day feels like a ball game in extra innings. I want to take advantage of that. I don't want to be up there and not have a good time. It's too valuable an experience to waste. I don't want to make it more valuable than other things necessarily, but playing is way up there. I wasn't always that way. In the last ten years or so, I'm more into appreciating things. Maybe that's just aging. I don't complain too much at this point about anything that's music-related. There's a lot of acceptance, and I kind of have to practice acceptance as well.

Your solo on "Naima" was riveting. You always seem to go back to Coltrane.

I hadn't done that in months, actually, a year and a half ago. Coltrane is a very important presence for me. He was the reason I chose music as a life's endeavor. I came along at a particularly important time for me in the socio-musical-economic-chronological frame. I became interested in music right when Trane was at the height of his powers. It literally bowled me over. He had me. I had never heard any kind of thing like the spiritual aspect of his music. Just that, "bu-dah, bu-deh," on Love Supreme. When I heard that I realized that this music was powerful stuff. And then the Beatles came out with Sergeant Pepper and that was powerful stuff, too. I spent years listening to Coltrane. I'm forever indebted to him. He had a short life. Now that I'm 54, I realize, he died when he was 40. He left us with a great legacy. Fortunately for us, he was very well recorded. Not only did he leave us with a great musical legacy, but he left us with a great blueprint of how to be a good human being and how to contribute something on this planet and how to do so in an extremely egoless way. 

(Originally published in The Japan Times February 2004)