Art Blakey and Me…
Art was an original. He's the only drummer whose time I recognize immediately, and his signature style was amazing. We used to call him “Thunder." When I first met him on 52nd Street in 1944, he already had the polyrhythmic thing down. Art was perhaps the best at maintaining independence with all four limbs. He was doing it before anyone else.
Max Roach
No other drummer came as close to the African and Latin root as Blakey. I did a couple of records with him, with Sabu on bongos, Pagani on timbales, and some other people. Art talked a lot about his Latin and African influences. They became more and more a part of him. Every time he played 'fours' and 'eights,' something African or Latinesque inevitably would flavor his comments. He was really empathetic with all that rhythm.
conga master Ray Barretto
The idea of playing jazz is to be professional enough to make a mistake, make the same mistake again, and then make something out of that. That's jazz! And if you aren't professional enough to do that, then you ain't a professional jazz musician. I'm not saying you're not a good musician, but if you don't know your instrument enough to go back and make that mistake twice, and do something creative with it, forget it, because that's how jazz was born. Somebody goofed.
Art Blakey
Art Blakey And The Jazz Messengers (1960) signed by Art “Keep Swinging”
Some guys, who may be good musicians and able to read, don't know nothing about rhythm. Thinking about the rhythm, this is what brings out good soloists. That's what makes Dizzy and what made Charlie Parker great musicians, they're rhythm experts. Guys like that understand drummers, and they can turn round and explain things. The others figure, 'Well, I can blow a horn, I got a sound,' and it's like you're pulling a ton of bricks. They're going one way, the rhythm's going the another...
Then there are the musicians, if they've had a fight with their old lady, they bring it to the band stand. I don't allow that in a combo. Whatever you had - I don't care if your mother just died - you come to the bandstand, that's it. 'Cause you don't know if you're gonna get back there again. Tomorrow's not promised to you. If you're playing music, you're one of the chosen few, a lucky guy. So, if you get up there, play! If you ain't gonna play, forget it, this is not your thing... This is not a job. It's not a right, it's a privilege to be able to play music. A privilege from the almighty.
Art BlakeyI don’t think musicians ever said (Thelonious) Monk was difficult to play with. I think people were saying that, not musicians, because musicians are the ones who make musicians. And anybody who knew anything about music knew, revered and feared Monk, as far as music is concerned. It was just that the musicians couldn’t get a chance to play with him. Thelonious was very selective, and I was just fortunate he selected me. He’d take me and Bud Powell around, and he’d stop all the band and let Bud play, and let me play... He was very outspoken and they respected him for it. This man was so fantastic, he knew what he wanted to do and he did it. He just had that personality, that aura about him. I was so happy to play with him. I tried the best I could and, anyway, I was experimenting. He let you experiment all you wanted, and that was good. I learned a lot with him, that helped to develop me quite a bit at that time.
Art Blakey on his mentor Thelonious Monk
Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers With Thelonious Monk (1958)
It would be easier to list those who did not play in Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers for the thirty-five+ years that they were a jazz juggernaut rather than those who did. It is a staggering number of talented musicians - Terrence Blanchard, Curtis Fuller, Benny Golson, Johnny Griffin, Donald Harrison, Freddie Hubbard, Javon Jackson, Branford and Wynton Marsalis, Jackie McLean, Hank Mobley, Lee Morgan, Wayne Shorter, Cedar Walton and Reggie Workman were among the chosen who shared the stage through the years. And the leader, driving the bus with force and precision was the indomitable and indestructible Art Blakey. His nickname wasn’t “Thunder” for no reason.
Born in Pittsburgh in 1919, Art grew up in a family of devout Seventh Day Adventists where he studied the bible and piano with equal devotion and fervor. His piano playing career ended abruptly one night when a bar owner brandished a pistol and demanded Art get off the stage so that another pianist could take his place. Art complied with the owner's request of the Democratic Club (yes, that's where the gig was!) and allowed Erroll Garner to play the keys. Notwithstanding the bar owner’s brutish approach, it was a prescient call. Erroll Garner went on to a storied jazz career as a pianist and composer, writing the jazz standard "Misty," while selling millions of records. For his artistry, Erroll was also awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame. It worked out for Art Blakey too.
Concentrating on drums, Art found gigs in and around Pittsburgh and, for a time, served as a valet for drummer and noted band leader Chick Webb. Then, Art toured for three years with Fletcher Henderson's band which took him all over the United States. Unfortunately, while on tour with Henderson in the early 1940s, Art was needlessly assaulted by a local policeman in Albany, Georgia and required surgery and a steel plate which was inserted into his head. The beating was unprovoked and unwarranted, but such were the risks of traveling in those days, and it didn’t happen only in the South. Pianist Bud Powell suffered a similar attack in Philadelphia as did Miles Davis who was beaten during a break outside a club in New York City where he was performing. Evidently, the police officer didn’t notice or care that Miles‘ name was emblazoned on the marquee. Art, however, fully recovered, landed a gig in Boston for a year and soon joined the great Billy Eckstine band in 1944 with Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Dexter Gordon, Charlie Parker and singer Sarah Vaughan among other luminous members. Art stayed with the Eckstine band for three years until they disbanded.
Ugetsu (1963) signed by Freddie Hubbard, Curtis Fuller, Cedar Walton, Reggie Workman
Restless because of the somewhat restrictive nature of a big band, Art traveled to Africa. He explained, “In 1947, after the Eckstine band broke up, I took a trip to Africa. I was supposed to stay there three months and I stayed two years... I didn’t go to Africa to study drums - somebody wrote that - I went to Africa because there wasn’t anything else for me to do. I couldn’t get any gigs, and I had to work my way over on a boat. I went over there to study religion and philosophy. I didn’t bother with the drums, I wasn’t after that. I went over there to see what I could do about religion. When I was growing up, I had no choice. I was just thrown into a church and told this is what I was going to be. I didn’t want to be their Christian, I didn’t like it. You could study politics in this country, but I didn’t have access to the religions of the world...” While in Africa, Art converted to Islam taking the name, Abdullah Ibn Buhaina, which led to his nickname Bu.
When he returned to the United States, Art reconnected with his old friends and started a big band, “So I came back and started playing again. We formed the Seventeen Messengers, but that broke up, because big bands were going out anyway. No, it hadn’t been my idea. The guys put the band together, just picked me out and said, “You’re the leader.” I never had any hopes of ever being a band leader, never thought about it. But I always had a “motor mouth,” I had a way of talking to guys, I could organize and people liked me for that... So when that didn’t work, Horace Silver, Kenny Dorham, Doug Watkins, Hank Mobley and I got together, and Horace suggested we call this the Jazz Messengers, which was beautiful. Again, they made me the leader. It started out as a corporation, but that didn’t last long. They went and formed their groups leaving me out there to carry on. That’s how I became mostly a leader since 1955.” Indeed, they found the right man for the job, as Art helmed the Jazz Messengers for the ensuing thirty-five years and created some of the most acclaimed and enduring music in jazz history.
The Big Beat (1960)
Regrettably, I only saw Art Blakey once with his last version of the Jazz Messengers in 1989 at Sweet Basil, a small jazz club in Greenwich Village in New York City, just down the road from the hallowed Village Vanguard. I was lucky to see a bunch of shows there before it shuttered in 2001, and I was very excited to see this legendary musician in such an intimate venue. Before the show, I noticed Art was standing alone in the hallway that led from backstage to the band stand, so I availed myself of the opportunity for a visit. I approached Art and told him I was a big fan and would he mind signing an album. Before he said yes, he looked at me, seemingly right through me, his eyes watery and red, “Do you play drums?” His stare strengthened, as though rhythm and drums coursed through every vein in his body. ‘No, I don’t,’ I replied hesitantly. I felt like I had disappointed a master. His disenchantment was palpable. I could see it in his eyes and body language. He grabbed the album, signed it to Erin and I with the admonition, “Keep swinging,” and handed it back to me. I thanked him and told him I was really looking forward to the show and returned to my table, trying not to feel as deflated as I was.
The show was phenomenal. Art was the leader in every sense. His drums were loud and propulsive, his rim shots cracked with precision and force, and all the while, he sat behind his kit, smiling beneficently like a Cheshire Cat, confident in his fulsome powers. As was his wont, Art surrounded himself with young musicians. His strategy was to groom them for a couple years, then they would leave to start their own careers, and he would replace them. It was a constant churn of extraordinary talent. So in the 1980s Branford and Wynton Marsalis begat Terrence Blanchard and Donald Harrison who begat Javon Jackson and Brian Lynch, a long line of Jazz Messenger protégés who became leaders of their own bands. In his way, Art was always pushing and playing it forward.
Sadly, Art died in 1990 after a battle with lung cancer, but what an amazing legacy he left. As he once explained, “People don’t care how many paradiddles you can play, people only know what they feel. You can take a drum and transport people. I was taught by Chick Webb that, if you’re playing before an audience, you’re supposed to take them away from everyday life - wash away the dust of everyday life. And that’s all music is supposed to do.”
Thanks Bu for the music, the feels, the transport, and, especially, washing away the dust of everyday life. I’ll keep swinging!
Kyoto (1964)
Choice Art Blakey Cuts (per BKs request)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3kEnoXaYYo
“Blue Monk” Jazz Messengers with Thelonious Monk (1958)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uKOoxgI_xfQ
“Moanin’ “ Jazz Messengers live: Bobby Timmons, Lee Morgan, Benny Golson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TWdx7yRXV4
“Dat Dere” The Big Beat (1958) with Lee Morgan, Wayne Shorter, Bobby Timmons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hwyGcEzlkc
“Bu’s Delight” Buhaina’s Delight (1961)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADWODreyby0
“A Night In Tunisia” Jazz Messengers live: Lee Morgan, Benny Golson, Bobby Timmons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTzRHq_cH5E
“Along Came Betty” Moanin’ (1958)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_wkmYK40S0
“Caravan” Jazz Messengers live: Freddie Hubbard, Wayne Shorter, Curtis Fuller (1963)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8BpBLYyDKs
“Moon River” Buhaina’s Delight (1961)