Wynton Marsalis - Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life

Passing it on: Piano prodigy Wynton Kelly Guess receives hands-on instruction from Kwame Coleman (behind the pillar) and Eric Lewis. The great drummer Herlin Riley (second from right) is like my older brother. We both played with Danny Barker in New Orleans. Ive worked with Eric Lewis and tenor saxophonist Walter Blanding (second from left) since they were teenagers. The other onlookers are proud papa Andr Guess (left) and our road manager, Raymond Big Boss Murphy, who for more than twenty years has made it possible for us to make gig after gig, all across the country.

Introduction

Now, Thats Jazz

I n the early 1970s, in the wake of the civil rights movement, when James Brown, Marvin Gaye, and Stevie Wonder were the kings of Afro-American popular music, when people sported eight-inch afros and polyester leisure suits, when the scent of revolution still rode the wind, the last thing anyone hip was thinking about was handkerchief-head, Uncle Tommin, shufflin and scratchin, grinning-for-tourists Dixieland music. Just the name alone made you hate it. So when my father said he was taking me and my brother Branford to play in a band for kids led by Danny Barker, the legendary banjo and guitar player, all we could envision was cartoon music or some type of old-school obsequiousness. What was a banjo, anyway? Something they played for Frederick Douglass? Man, were gonna miss running around on Saturday to go back to slavery days. Yay!

Actually, Danny Barker had played banjo and guitar with everybody from Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet to James P. Johnson and Cab Calloway, but we didnt know who any of those people were. We were living in Kenner, Louisiana, at the time. Branford was nine. I was eight. It took my father about half an hour to drive us into New Orleans, to the empty lot where Mr. Barkers Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band was rehearsing.

There we met an old man whom I presumed to be Mr. Barker. He was a colorful character, full of fire and stories well told. He loved New Orleans music and he loved kids. That day, he taught us the most profound lesson about playing jazzand about the possibility of a life of self-expression and mutual respectthat Ive ever encountered.

He started with the drums: The bass drum and the cymbal are the key to the whole thing. We play in four. One, two, three, four. The bass drum plays on one and three and the cymbal on two and four. Its like they answer each other. So when the bass drum goes bummp, you answer with the cymbalchhh.

Now, on that second fourth beat, the cymbal and the bass drum agree with each other. And when you hit them two at the same time, now, thats jazz.

You see, he explained, you gotta bounce around with your parts and you gotta skip the rhythm, just like youre dancing.

Then he went to the tuba. Now, the tuba, thats the biggest instrument out here. You play big notes and leave space. Big things move slow. He sang some tuba lines. You are related to the bass drum. The two of yall are down there, so you got to stay with each other. Yall are the floorthe foundation of the beat.

The tuba player started playing. Mr. Barker said, You got to play with feeling. And when you play with feeling, on the bottom, you bounce. So he started bouncing. Then the tuba and the drums started playing around. And he said, You gotta mix it up and you gotta play together! Then, after they made some low, grumbling noise, he said, Now, thats jazz.

Then he turned to the trombone. What do you have that nobody else has?

The slide, the boy said.

Thats right. In jazz, you always hold up the thing that makes you different from other people. Be proud of being you. You play a low instrument. The lower you go, the slower the rhythms get. So I want you to play this kind of part. And he sang the part. Every now and then, rrrhhhhhrrrraawwmmmp, I want you to slide up, rip up, to a note. Tear it up. The tuba, drums, and trombone started playing together and sounded terrible. But Mr. Barker said, Thats jazz music!

Then he addressed the trumpet players. He said, Now, the trumpet is the lead instrument. You got to be strong. You play the melody. So he taught us a melody, Lil Liza Jane. We started playing. And after wed played the melody and inflicted a few painful injuries, he said, Play the notes with personality. Shake em! Play around with em. And play with rhythm. Youve got to bounce, too. Everything he wanted us to do he sang first. So we played the song with everyone else and it sounded like noise. Yeah, it definitely sounded terrible, but it seemed like it might eventually be some kind of fun.

Then he went to the clarinet player. Now, you see all these keys yall got. You can play fast, play high, higher than a trumpet; you can play fast skips and trills and such. That makes you different from these trumpet players. I want yall to do those things every now and then. Play the same melody as the trumpet but up one octave. He sang the clarinet part, too. The clarinet players squeaked and squawked. Mr. Barker listened. Then he said, Everything you do, you got to do with personality. Scoop and bend and slide those notes. They tried to do that.

Mr. Barker said, Thats jazz! Now, lets hear clarinets and trumpets on the melody. But when yall play together, you got to talk to one another. The clarinet has to fill when the trumpet leaves space, and the trumpet needs to leave that space. So we tried to play together. The clarinet played the melody up an octave, adding some fast notes but still squeaking and squawking. Terrible. Then Mr. Barker said, Lets put it all together, Lil Liza Jane. It was the most cacophonous, disjointed thing you ever heard in your life.

Gentlemen, he enthusiastically concluded, now, thats jazz.

If you look at the New Orleans jazz scene today, a lot of the best musiciansLucien Barbarin (trombone), Shannon Powell (drums), Michael White (clarinet), Gregg Stafford (cornet), Herlin Riley (trumpet at that time, drums now)all played with Danny Barkers Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band over the years. So he was hearing something in us way back then. And he was teaching us something, too: You are creative, whoever you are. Respect your own creativity