THE LANDFILL CHRONICLES. Chapter 15 — Freddie Hubbard’s Infamous IAJE Blindfold Test in 2002
THE LANDFILL CHRONICLES — the book-in-progress of Conversations on Jazz and Eclectic Music Elevated to a State of Art, published on Medium
By Dan Ouellette
!!!Please subscribe for free for email updates for the next LANDFILL chapters on Jimmy Smith, Charlie Haden, Joni Mitchell!!!
By 2002, I had produced several live DownBeat Blindfold Tests for the International Association of Jazz Educators conferences, including Ron Carter, Jason Moran, Charlie Haden, Joe Lovano with Greg Osby. But the most famous/infamous BFT came in January 2002 when the IAJE wanted me to meet up with Freddie Hubbard. He was ill at the time — congestive heart issues — so it wasn’t certain that he would be able to get out of bed and attend the blindfolding at the conference center in Long Beach, California. It wasn’t until two hours before the scheduled event that I found out Freddie was on his way.
I had my set list ready to go, and Freddie was greeted by a full house of ecstatic fans ready to hear his wisdom. My list of tunes to hear consisted of music that he would probably be familiar with as well as music that he no doubt had never heard. Again, the purpose of a Blindfold Test isn’t to guess every person when the music plays, but more importantly to reflect on what was being played.
As you read below in the writer’s cut of this session, Freddie had his vehement opinions. The crowd loved it! After the event, Michelle Kuypers, program manager and booker at the North Sea Jazz Fest in the Netherlands, approached my editor Jason Koransky, and requested that I start doing live BFTs at that festival. The gig lasted 16–17 years!
“It took people like me, Lee Morgan and Booker Little several years to build up a name. Now record companies sign you, and if you don’t have a successful first record, they get another guy.” — Freddie Hubbard
CHAPTER 15 — DOWNBEAT BLINDFOLD TEST (2002)
Freddie Hubbard
This Blindfold Test, Hubbard’s first, took place in front of an ecstatic audience at the International Association of Jazz Educators conference in in January, 2002. Begore he settled in, he said, “I’m so happy to be here. I’ve been wanting to get on this Down Beat thing so I can cut up these young boys. But, then again, I haven’t heard most of the young kids…I wanted to come here today to say that we’re all in this music together — and that it’s up to educators to keep it going.”
1. Sonny Rollins
“Bluesnote” (from Sonny Rollins: The Blue Note Recordings, Vol. 1, Blue Note, rec’d 1956, 1997) Rollins, tenor saxophone; Donald Byrd, trumpet; Wynton Kelly, piano; Gene Ramey, bass; Max Roach, drums.
(almost immediately) Well, you can stop that right now. (wild applause) No, turn it up. You know what? I heard from that trumpet player just two hours ago. That was Donald Byrd, right? I had a little altercation, a congestive heart failure that put me in the hospital till last Thursday. So Donald Byrd called me to see how I was doing. And, you know what else was so strange? When I was in the hospital, Sonny Rollins and Max Roach both called me. I worked with all those guys. As a young person (whistles), man , it was rough, but they passed a lot of information on to me. All those guys on this record were instrumental to me in even wanting to play this music. They were all great, all big time, all making it.
Donald Byrd was like a big brother to me because when I went to New York and started making records for Blue Note, he was one of the guys who taught me how to go about the business. He taught me how to phrase with people like Sonny Rollins because he had done a lot of recording and playing with those guys. So it was a thrill to play with him before I had to go into the studio. Donald Byrd taught me everything. Along with Kenny Dorham, Donald was playing long phrases back then, more so than other trumpet players. He’d play 12-bar phrases without taking a breath. And I thought that was pretty good.
This is one of my favorite records. I listen to it every day. It’s funny that you played it. I have nothing but love for this. This would be good for all the kids in their studies at school to listen to. They could hear the camaraderie amongst the players to create the music. There’s no rush or hard bashing. That’s so good to hear. So many players are trying so hard to get their point across, to express themselves when they need to relax and just play.
That was Gene Ramey on bass, right? It’s not Tommy Flanagan on piano, is it? I couldn’t tell because we faded before the solo. Who is it?
(audience is offered the opportunity to guess) Wynton Kelly? No shit. (audience laughs) I watched Wynton go through all the cats because he could play any kind of style.
2. Roy Haynes
“Diverse” (from Birds of a Feather: A Tribute To Charlie Parker, Dreyfus, 2001)
Haynes, drums; Roy Hargrove, trumpet; Kenny Garrett, alto saxophone; Dave Kikoski, piano; Dave Holland, bass.
I love that. These are really guys who appreciate the bebop period and there’s one guy I recognize right off. I know that’s Kenny Garrett on alto sax. I had a lot of experiences with him on tour. We worked together for a couple of years. In his early days, sometimes he’d go off and I’d ask him if he really knew where he was going. I told him you have to be careful. Sometimes you can make a run and go outside the chords, but you may have a piano player who can’t follow you to join in. But Kenny, he’s figured that out now. I love that.
The trumpet player? I’m a little perplexed. Could it be that kid Stafford? James. Is that his name? Oh, Terrell, yeah. I heard him recently in Europe at a festival and he sounded good. You know, it could be that kid who did a record on me. What’s that guy’s name who plays the trumpet and did a tribute? Marcus Printup. Could that be him? It wasn’t? How many chances do I get?
What am I hearing here? I like the trumpet player, but he’s making the same mistakes I used to make. He’s too close to the microphone and it changes the whole sound and feeling of the record.
A lot of times, if you’re too close to the microphone, you don’t let it breathe. I’d see Miles close to the mike, but he was playing soft. I was playing hard. I think the kid here was too close to the mike, but I like his conception. From my era, you listen to the kids of a new era and right away I can tell if they sound like someone I’ve heard before or if they’re trying something new. It’s difficult to find young kids doing something new. But there are a few reaching to come up with their own sound. This guy sounds like he’s reaching.
It’s not Tom Harrell, is it? It’s Roy Hargrove? Wow, I thought he sounded like me. That was Roy? You know what I like about this? He’s playing more of his own stuff. He’s a younger guy who’s reaching. I like him very much, but here he’s changed up a little bit with his style.
3. Booker Little
“Man Of Words” (from Out Front, Candid, rec’d 1961, 2000)
Little, trumpet; Julian Priester, trombone; Eric Dolphy, alto saxophone; Don Friedman, piano; Ron Carter, bass; Max Roach, drums.
I know who this is. It’s Booker Little. My experience with him was working in Slide Hampton’s band. We both played trumpet in his octet. Every day I’d go to work and Booker was like a machine. He played clean and with great articulation. As you can hear, he had such control of his breathing. That’s what I most admired about him. He was relaxed most of the time, but I still feel like he played tight, not as open as I like. His conception wasn’t like mine. Just before he died I felt like he was loosening up a little more. It’s one thing to play correct and play straight. But you’ve also got to come up with something new once in a while from what you normally do.
Booker was 22 years old. Sitting next to him, I watched his lips swell up and I watched his fingers. He played fast and high. I had never seen anything like it in my life. Can you imagine playing that well at 22, and there I was sitting next to that brilliant young man. He had leukemia and didn’t know it. There we were on the bandstand together and within two weeks he was dead. Had he lived, there’s no telling what he would have done. Can you imagine?
This tune? This is a dirge-type song. (crowd laughs at the word choice faux pas) Did I say the wrong word? Booker was thinking about some sad stuff when he was playing. He wanted to express himself that way. I like this piece and Booker Little was great.
4. Russell Gunn
“Epistrophy” (from Ethnomusicology, Vol. 2, Justin Time, 2001)
Gunn, trumpet; Andre Heyward, trombone; Kebbi Williams, tenor saxophone; Marc Cary, piano; Carl Burnett, guitar; Lonnie Plaxico, bass; Woody Williams, drums; D.J. Apollo, turntables.
(makes faces at clanging electric guitar rhythm, laughs at the funky bass lines, exaggeratedly opens his eyes wide at the sound of the turntablist, then opens his eyes even wider when theme gets played) I don’t wanna hear this. Turn it off. Really, I don’t wanna hear anymore. And I don’t want them (he points to the audience) to hear this. If I don’t like it, I don’t have to hear it, at least not today.
See how these record company people come up with some bullshit like this. This sounds like the theme from Peter Gunn. It’s coming up with this hipness that has nothing to do with Monk’s melody. When this kind of shit gets put out there, it makes me mad. It’s like not appreciating what Monk did when he wrote this. Putting some funky beat and funny stuff on it, well, this destroys the music. We gotta stop doing that. (applause)
Monk played at the old Five Spot in the Village, and he’d play this tune every night with cats like Trane and Sonny Rollins. And to hear this bullshit, well, you gotta get over that, people. You know there are kids listening to this bullshit who never heard nobody. And they like it ’cause it’s got a beat, but it don’t mean nothing for the real thing. You know you have to stay real some time and not do some bullshit. (applause)
Kids go to school to learn music, then they hear some stuff like this. Where does it go? Where does it take you? Nowhere. The music [that Monk wrote] by itself is too great.
I tried a couple of times in the ’70s to mess with the beats, playing the hot licks to go with the groove. But all that stuff that I practiced, busting my chops early in jazz and classical music…then to play some simple stuff over a broken rhythm, well, that doesn’t make sense to me. (applause)
5. Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers
“Afrique” (from The Witch Doctor, Blue Note, rec’d 1961, 1999) Blakey, drums; Lee Morgan, trumpet; Wayne Shorter, tenor saxophone; Bobby Timmons, piano; Jymie Merritt, bass.
(during trumpet solo) Wow! (while listening, he laughs, dances a little in his seat, makes oooh and ahhh faces) I know this. This is Art Blakey, Lee Morgan, Wayne Shorter, Bobby Timmons.
When I first got to New York in 1958, I went to Birdland to hear Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. He had with him Lee Morgan, Hank Mobley and Bobby Timmons. When I heard this young kid on the trumpet, Lee Morgan, whew, I thought about going back to Indianapolis. I was 20, 21 and to hear someone else playing the trumpet like that and expressing himself, well, it was frightening. I thought, you know, I gotta get into this myself. But I admit I had many a sleepless night trying to figure out if I should even bother going on.
Art Blakey. The way that guy played drums. When he played on the bandstand behind you, it felt like he was kicking you, but he also made you feel grounded. He’d play his drums and I could feel the vibrations go out the drums, through the floor, into my feet and then up my legs. I was shaking. People used to think that he was mumbling and jumbling around too much, but I could see him building all these rhythms at the same time.
Working with Art Blakey for three years was the best experience I ever had in a small group. I learned so much about rhythm. Those were the good days. He took me on the road with him to Europe, Japan, South Africa. We played bars like you wouldn’t believe. I remember this one place in St. Louis called the Mardi Gras that had balloons hanging from the ceiling.
Art had me playing so long and so hard that some nights I had to soak my chops in ice after. You know you’re playing your heart out, and you’re in the heat of the moment and everybody’s hollering and you’re feeling good. But if you’re tired, you start playing the trumpet with your flesh instead of the wind. That’s how you get all that scar tissue. It’s like Louis Armstrong. He played with brute strength. And I ended up with a bubble on my lip just like him.
That’s what I like about a lot of the young kids today. They’re doing it right. You get tired, you need to put that trumpet down. Otherwise you can do long-time damage.
6. Hugh Ragin Trumpet Ensemble
“Finger Filibuster” (from Fanfare & Fiesta, Justin Time, 2001) Ragin, Clark Terry, Omar Kabir, James Zollar, Dontae Winslow, trumpets; Craig Taborn, piano; Jaribu Shahid, bass; Bruce Cox, drums.
First of all, that’s Clark Terry. Like I said before, when you have your own sound, you can tell right away who it is. We got together a couple of months ago, and he was helping me with my embouchure. He had a way of playing the trumpet that I could never get. He has one of the best embouchures and he was great — he could play the horn upside down, even play two horns at the same time.
The other trumpet player confuses me. It’s an older guy, and he’s not well known. It’s almost as if the second guy was playing like Clark, but the articulation isn’t as good. Overall, this sounds like a jam session record that’s predicated on Clark Terry’s playing. I didn’t hear that much composition-wise or with soloing. It was a jam session, which is cool, but there’s not too much happening. But Clark Terry, I can hear him in there. My God, he can play that trumpet. I’d listen to Clark Terry anywhere.
7. Lester Bowie Brass Fantasy
“In the Still of the Night” (from The Odyssey Of Funk & Popular Music, Birdology/Atlantic, 1998) Bowie, trumpet; Bob Stewart, tuba; Joshua Roseman, trombone; various others.
(after about a minute and a half into the piece) Do I have to listen to this? That’s it. Take it off. This music sounds like church music to me, like the Salvation Army thing. The Salvation Army band would play something like this, pray, then go out of the church and go back to their KKK meetings.
It didn’t feel right, like the motive wasn’t right in doing this tune. It’s like listening to Barry Manilow or to Billy Eckstine. See the difference? (crowd laughs) I wouldn’t want to be playing music like Barry Manilow.
It’s Lester Bowie? Oh, yeah, I knew Lester. He liked poking fun. But you’ve got to be careful with that shit. I love Bowie, but I don’t like hearing him play that.
My mother used to make me play trumpet in church. (laughs from the audience) No, don’t laugh at me. She said unless you’re playing your trumpet in church, you’re not glorifying God, which makes a lot of sense to me now. But she had me playing “Nearer My God to Thee” when I wanted to be playing bebop Charlie Parker. This was in the early ’50s when I wanted to play “Donna Lee.” But she didn’t want me playing the devil’s music. So I said, what makes this the devil’s music and what makes him the devil? But she just replied, you’re not going to play that. She never did go to clubs to hear me.
Do you know how hard it was for guys like Bird and Art Blakey to play jazz? It wasn’t easy. People wanted them to get off the stage. I saw how hard it was for those guys to get gigs. But they kept on playing. That’s what made me want to play it. It takes time and study. You can’t just pick up an instrument and do it.
In Japan and Europe, people love me. I was in Europe a couple of months ago and my chops was in and out. But the audiences didn’t care. They heard the albums I’d done over the years, and they were just hoping that I could do some of that. Everybody here is so concerned with what I sound like today.”
I know there are lots of cats in America — young white boys and black boys — who can play rings around Wynton Marsalis, who can kick his ass. But what makes Wynton great is that he can play both jazz and classical, which is good. I’ve heard him cut up cats like Lee Morgan and myself, cats who didn’t have as much training as he did. But he’ll never get that side [of who we are] ’cause he wasn’t there during that period [when we were coming up]. We didn’t know how to hold the mouthpiece to save our embouchure, to save our chops, to play clear without hurting ourselves. And he’ll never know how we played our butts off trying to create something new. But since I got sick, I don’t worry about what people think. You just get your own thing together and do the best that you can.”
It took people like me, Lee Morgan and Booker Little several years to build up a name. Now record companies sign you, and if you don’t have a successful first record, they get another guy.
!!!Please subscribe for free for email updates for the next LANDFILL chapters on Jimmy Smith, Charlie Haden, Joni Mitchell!!!