Reggie Workman and others reflect on Art Blakey
These interviews originally appeared in Musician Magazine in 1991
Reggie Workman
I knew Art was sick, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. Last time I saw him at Sweet Basil, I went up and said, ‘Art, you don’t look too good, why are you out here working?’ He said playing the music made him happy. His spirits were so high most of the time and that is something that he gave to world not only in his music, but in his demeanor. One of the great things that he taught each of us who passed through his school was to be strong in your convictions. To have the courage to put forth an idea with a profundity and a strength that would match the strength of the world around you. And to believe in whatever it is that you’re doing, to make sure that your voice will reign in a professional and convincing manner.
Joanne Brackeen
The thing that everybody has noticed is that since he’s left, it’s as if he hasn’t left at all. I think that’s because he lived fully and shared his musicianship and every aspect of himself with all the people he came in contact with. As for me, I think I was probably the only woman to have played for any length of time in his band. He called me his adopted daughter. He was like a philosopher, or an actor : this guy could tell stories you’d know could not possibly be real — but that story would become real, and that’s how he played too. He was one of the very rare people who was able to keep the genius of childhood alive in himself throughout his whole life. Just like a little kid for whom everything is new.
He had to be one of the most helpful people to musicians who ever lived. He would pick all kinds of people for his band — short, tall, black, white —and whoever he picked was good. He loved the mixture of the races; that was how he lived his life, he felt that everything should blend. The sound that he got on the drums was remarkable and not duplicated by anybody that I’ve heard. It was like thunder, and yet could be extremely delicate. He was one of the most fantastic people that I’ve met, or that I could even imagine.
Clifford Jordan (1931-1993) RIP
There are people who come into your life from time to time who help you along the way. I met Art when I was in jail. I was 18 years old. Art and Miles got busted and he was in for three days, and he was talking about his Muslim ties. I stuck with him for three days in the LA County Jail, and I ate all his pork! (They were serving green hot dogs, the food was awful.) And then, about five years later in Chicago, I was embraced and befriended by the Jazz Messengers. They always let me play with them when they came to Chicago, and they encouraged me to come to New York. So I did, and Art was on my first recording session. Art Blakey was placed on earth to give encouragement to our art form, and to prove that no isn’t the answer. He led a true life of an angel. Long live the message and the rhythm.
Curtis Fuller (1932-2021) RIP
I don’t think a good player learns to play real deep unless you come through Blakey. The way he breaks up a beat, he literally drives you into the ground. The press roll, the little staccato triplets he plays behind you… he instigates, provokes you almost; he takes you to another level. Like having the right woman. Other drummers can keep tempo, or do fancy things, but Art is not a hotshot. He’s all about playing, in the most primal way. He’s doing it to get the max out of you. Some drummers get in your way, some drummers try to dictate to you; Art was just a steady climb into the explosion.
Art was more like a father to me, because I lived with him years ago. We were very close. I was the first trombonist in the band; there were those who didn’t want another piece in the band, because it would cut into their money, but that was the sound Art wanted, so he insisted. He went to bat for me.
My nickname in the band was Deputy Dog. It stuck! I played with Lee and then again with Freddie and Wayne. That was a band. Everything this current band plays is what we played; sometimes they even play our solos!
Something else that Art instilled in us that you don’t hear too much of today even in large bands was, when you play, play dynamically. He knew about dynamics. He didn’t read music —neither did Buddy Rich. What he liked about me was my resourceful playing. He used to say, ‘Don’t dig a hole for yourself, say what you have to say and get out of it.’ No 20-minute solos! I can’t do with a trombone what guys do with a saxophone.
You know, when I was very sick years ago, Art came to the hospital. When I woke up he was holding my hand. And he said, ‘If you die, I’ll kill you.’
It was very strange, because for days before he died, I’d call the hospital, but Art was too sick to talk. Then one night I got call, and a guy said, ‘Someone wants to talk to you.’ And Art got on the phone and he said, ‘Deputy, get your horn and go take care of the band.’ And the next day Benny Golson told me Art was gone. So I’m taking the band to Japan. I loved him. That’s about the size of it. ~
Copyright ©️ Karen Bennett, 1991, 2023
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