Radio Interviews in March

Singer and bandleader Jacqui Sutton, DJ, historian and visual artist Tierney Malone, and writer and composer Chris Becker

I grew up with radio. (Well, radio, and then MTV.) While my first exposure to jazz was through my father's record collection, and records I subsequently bought to share with him (Miles Davis' The Man with the Horn and Pat Metheny and Lyle Mays' As Falls Wichita, So Falls Wichita Falls were the first two jazz albums I bought), pre-MTV FM radio turned me on to a lot of musical artists and styles I still listen to today. As a got older, I recognized the value of listener-sponsored community radio stations, and eventually went on to be interviewed about my work as a musician and writer on great stations across the U.S. Most recently, I've been a guest on Tierney Malone's show "Houston Jazz Spotlight" to talk about my book Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz. This month, I am looking forward to two opportunities to talk about the book on two more great listener-supported radio shows.

The first will be with Nou Dadoun on his show "A-Trane" which airs out of Vancouver, British Columbia, Fridays, 2:30 to 5:30 p.m. (PST) on CFRO 100.5 FM and online at Co-Op Radio. I'll be on Nou's show March 4.

I've been a fan of Joyce Jones' show "Suga' In My Bowl" for awhile, so it's particularly exciting for me to have the opportunity to speak with her about the book. "Suga' in My Bowl" airs in New York City on Sundays at 11:00 p.m. (ET) on WBAI 99.5 FM and online at wbai.org. My conversation with Joyce will air March 20.

These days, FM radio is typically very bland, with little or no information from DJs as to what you're listening to. It seems listener-supported radio is what's left, and wherever you live, it deserves your support. Podcasts are cool, but there's no substitute for experience of discovery and education that live radio offers.

What's your favorite station? Let me know in the comments below.

Interview With Cellist Nioka Workman (Excerpted from "Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz")

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is a collection of inspiring and in-depth interviews with 37 women musicians of all ages, nationalities, and races and representing nearly every style of jazz one can imagine. The interviewees include Carmen Lundy, Terri Lyne Carrington, Eliane Elias, Helen Sung, Anat Cohen, Diane Schuur, Sherrie Maricle, Sharel Cassity, Brandee Younger, Jane Ira Bloom and many other incredible artists. The 320-page book includes 42 photographs, and a 25-page introduction to the history of women in jazz.

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is available for purchase from Amazon. Here in Houston, TX, you find the book at Brazos Bookstore, the Jung Center of Houston Bookstore, and Casa Ramirez FOLKART Gallery.

What follows is an excerpt from the book: the introduction to and a portion of my interview with cellist and composer Nioka Workman. 

Nioka Workman photograph by CEA

In a 2003 interview for All About Jazz, Philadelphia-born bassist Reggie Workman credits Philadelphia’s musical culture and a nurturing home environment for inspiring him to study music. 
     “Now that I look back on the situation,” says Workman. “I realize how much the culture has to do with the evolution of a people. . . . A lot of our institutions . . . the school systems and so forth, didn’t encourage too much cultural evolution, but that was a natural thing in our community. I think my parents recognized that and it developed from there.” 
     The impact that the home environment and the culture of a community can have on a young person is a recurring theme in my interview with Reggie Workman’s daughter, cellist, composer, and improviser Nioka Workman. Workman grew up in Brooklyn, and initially studied both music and dance at the New Muse Community Center (where her father was the music director), Henry Street Settlement, and Third Street Music School Settlement. Not surprisingly, her family supported her in all of her aspirations. 
     “They definitely are all about supporting whatever it is you decide to do, as long as you’re happy,” says Workman. “But music, that’s who we are. . . . my uncle [Arthur Harper] played with [trombonist] J.J. Johnson. I have cousins who played with Chuck Berry. . . . I have all kinds of music in my family. It’s just part of my life.” 
     For decades, the cello has provided an especially unique voice in the world of jazz and improvised music. Cellists such as Fred Katz, Tom Cora, Hank Roberts, Diedre Murray, and Abdul Wadud have expanded the role of the instrument by embracing musical idioms from around the globe, as well as extended techniques, amplification, and electronics, to produce an expansive, sometimes startling vernacular of sounds. Workman explores all of these sonic territories as a solo performer, in the electric cello and guitar duo Iron Blossoms with electric guitarist Hui Cox, and as the member of her six-piece acoustic chamber ensemble, Firey String Sistas! Workman’s technique is rooted in her study of classical and jazz repertoire as well as the music of the “masters of soul, funk, and R&B.” This, together with her passion for and understanding of a wide variety of other creative mediums, including dance, performance art, and theater, has allowed her to develop a deeply personal and compelling style on both acoustic and electric cello. 
     In 2011, Workman formed the Firey String Company [FSCO], an organization dedicated to presenting educational workshops and concert programming and creating “nurturing environments for creative and improvising string players to perform, share, learn new skills, produce new work and network.” FSCO is especially committed to empowering female musicians, and in her interview, Workman points out that women have always participated in the development of jazz. 
     “There have always been a lot of women playing improvisatory music, which is what I prefer to call it,” says Workman, “and now, a lot more are being recognized for what they do . . ."

When did you first begin playing a musical instrument? 
Officially, I started taking lessons at the age of 10. But my father had a lot of instruments around his studio space. And my folks, they wanted us to try different things before they locked us into taking traditional lessons. So, we did dance, we did karate, art, and all kinds of things. We tried the piano, violin, I tried the bass—oh my God, and the bass was too huge. But I didn’t know they had smaller versions [laughs] or else I think I would have tried that out! 
     So I kind of went through an exploration period for a while before I landed. 

Was it required in the household that the children play a musical instrument? 
Not at all, not at all. 

You were living with your family in New York? 
Yes. Brooklyn is where I was raised. But I was born in the Village. We were there for a while, then we were in Queens for a minute, and then settled in Brooklyn when I was in elementary school. I’d say age 10 is when I started playing cello. In junior high, my dad was the director at the New Muse Community Center, and that’s where I started taking official lessons. You had all kinds of things going on there. 

What kind of music were you playing then? 
A lot of my teachers were going back and forth with my father. He wanted me to start with jazz. Actually, you could say that he was the first teacher because he gave me a few tunes to learn. “Embraceable You,” [trombonist] J.J. Johnson songs, whatever music he had around he gave me and encouraged me to play by ear. 
     So he wanted me to learn and play jazz first. But in any traditional lessons I had, the teachers said, “She needs more opportunities. . . .” So they started me with the Suzuki Method.83 When I went to Henry Street Settlement for a while, that was strictly Suzuki. [laughs] 

Would you go home and in addition to practicing whatever it was you needed to practice, play the music your dad was encouraging you to play? 
Oh, yes! I always wanted to play music with my father. That was my goal in life, you know? 

How about improvising? Was that a part of your musical world as well? 
Well, with my dad, I was mostly playing by ear. I don’t think that improvising is what we did. We just played music, you know? I mean, all of it is improvisation, but traditionally, that came in later after the classical training. 

Were you on track as a younger musician to be a classical musician before making a decision to play jazz? Or was it much more organic than that? 
I did everything organically at first, and at age 10, I was put on a classical track. So yes, at the New Muse Community Center I had theory and cello and lessons and all that. Then I went to Henry Street Settlement, and then I went to Third Street Music School Settlement, all of these different schools. 
     But I wanted to improvise and do new music and jazz. So, after I got out of school, I just started branching out. 

Using the word “jazz” sometimes is a little misleading. 
Mm-hmm. 

And when I listen to your music, I hear a lot of different things. 
I did a gig last night with [singer] Antoinette Montague. What a wonderful artist. 
     She sang a mix of all kinds of things. Blues was the main music that she felt the audience really responded to. But she sang “Here’s to Life” and all these beautiful songs by Nina Simone. To be able to go from a kind of an art song to kind of a Broadway-type song to an R&B song . . . I think you just have to stay open and study and learn different things. To use just one word, “jazz . . .” I don’t know. What does that word mean? 

It sounds like your family supported your decision to make a career for yourself as a musician. 
[laughs] Well, yeah! They definitely are all about supporting whatever it is you decide to do, as long as you’re happy. But music, that’s who we are. I mean, my uncle played with J.J. Johnson. I have cousins who played with Chuck Berry. . . . I have all kinds of music in my family. It’s just part of my life. 

So you didn’t have anybody discouraging you, saying, “This is going to be really tough for you financially, you’re gonna have to think of something to fall back on!” 
[laughs] Oh, boy. I hear you. If you love the process, where just being a part of the music is an honor, to just be alive and continue to grow and learn and share with people . . . it’s a choice. You just make a choice. 
     Some people choose to know when their vacations are, know when their retirement is, know when you’re gonna get paid. [laughs] You do have to pay bills, and some things you just have to do. And yes, I’m trained in the Suzuki Method. I can do that kind of thing, and I’ve done a myriad of jobs to support what I’m doing. And I’ve heard that “advice” over and over again. But I know where my heart is and I know where my focus is. 

Interview With Mindi Abair (excerpted from "Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz")

Here is another excerpt from my book Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz. This is the introduction to and a portion of my interview with saxophonist Mindi Abair, one of the earliest supporters of this project. 

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is a collection of interviews with 37 women musicians from across the spectrum of jazz, including Carmen Lundy, Terri Lyne Carrington, Eliane Elias, Helen Sung, Anat Cohen, Diane Schuur, Sherri Maricle, Sharel Cassity, Brandee Younger, Jane Ira Bloom and many, many other incredible artists.

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is available for purchase from Amazon. Here in Houston, TX, you can find the book at the Jung Center of Houston Bookstore, and Casa Ramirez FOLKART Gallery.

Mindi Abair photo by Greg Allen

Saxophonist, singer, and composer Mindi Abair is the first musician I interviewed for this book. In retrospect, that may seem strange, if only because Abair doesn’t identify herself as a jazz musician. Then again, many of the other artists I interviewed for this book avoid using the word “jazz” to describe their musical output. 

     Abair’s music is often lumped in the much derided, misunderstood, and in my opinion, underappreciated style of music commonly known as “smooth jazz.” I say “misunderstood,” because the roots of what might be better de¬scribed as a groove-centric form of instrumental pop music come from a sea change in jazz that occurred in the late 1960s and early 1970s. During this period of tremendous social upheaval, jazz musicians began making music that wouldn’t be out of place on soul and R&B radio stations and jukeboxes across the U.S. Musicians such as Ramsey Lewis, Les McCann, Donald Byrd, and Grover Washington Jr. enjoyed a degree of mainstream success playing a danceable style of jazz that embraced the backbeat, funk bass lines, gospel harmonies, and a sense of style that spoke to the politics of the time. Jazz purists, and especially music critics, hated it. Meanwhile, young listeners were intrigued by this new style of soulful jazz and were led to other strains of this music as a result. 

     Abair is certainly comfortable navigating the world of popular music. But her musical background is a little more complex than that of many pop stars. Her résumé includes playing saxophone with the quintessential boy band the Backstreet Boys and Boston’s hard-rocking Aerosmith, but she cut her teeth as a player touring with jazz pianist and composer Bobby Lyle in a band that included former members of jazz-fusion pioneers Weather Report and the impossible-to-categorize rock, disco, soul, and R&B musical group Earth, Wind & Fire. She has recorded several hits as a so-called pop instrumental or smooth-jazz artist, but she names women like Tina Turner and idiosyncratic singer-songwriter Rickie Lee Jones as early inspirations. As a child, she grew up on the road with her father’s band, the Entertainers. The track “The Alley” from Abair’s 2010 album Hi-Fi Stereo features her father, Lance Abair, on a Hammond B-3, bringing it all back to home to the music that first set his daughter on a path to study jazz while planning to be a rock star. 

     At the time of this writing, Abair is the president of the Los Angeles Chapter of Music that, through programs including the Grammy Foundation and MusiCares, provides money and resources for music education and musicians’ health needs. In an age of rampant piracy, a dearth of terrestrial radio airplay, and near-zero royalties from ubiquitous music-streaming services like Spotify, she is a strong advocate for the rights of composers and creators of music. 

     In this wide-ranging interview, which combines two separate conversations and is presented in this book in two parts, Abair talks about the importance of music education, her earliest experiences as a professional musician, and the “glass ceiling” that still exists in the music industry. 

When did you first begin playing a musical instrument? 

The first instrument I played was the piano. When I was little, I would just bang on my father’s keyboards. And I think my parents just broke down when I was 5 years old and put me into piano lessons. When school band started in fourth grade, I was told to pick up any instrument and that we’d go on from there. I chose the alto saxophone. I was 8 years old. The saxophone was bigger than me at that point! 

Many of the musicians I’ve interviewed had some kind of music program in their elementary school. 

I now do a lot of work with young kids in schools through the Grammy Foundation and other outreach programs. We sometimes bring kids from the inner city to our sound checks and have lunch with the band so they can see how we do things. I think it’s great to have the kids interact with the musicians who are out there doing it. They can ask questions and be inspired by it. It goes a long way. No one is going to be able to fill the gap when a music program leaves a school, but we can all give it our best shot to try. 

Your father Lance is a musician? 

Yes. He plays Hammond B-3 on my track “The Alley” from my album Hi-Fi Stereo. He’s also on my second CD. 

Did your family support your early interest in music? 

My father was a professional musician at the time. He was touring with a band called the Entertainers. He played saxophone and keyboards. No one thought anything about it really. My grandmother was an opera singer and a vocal and piano instructor. They loved that I was playing an instrument. Neither she nor my father wanted to teach me, because they both felt that a kid needs a music teacher, someone who is going to be firm with the student. They didn’t want to be that person. They didn’t want to be the person who might drive me away from music. They wouldn’t teach me, but they got me teachers. I took piano lessons for many years, but there really weren’t many saxophone teachers in our area. I grew up in St. Petersburg, Florida. Every once in a while, someone would show up at a local music store who would teach saxophone and disappear in a couple weeks. 

What kind of music were you studying and playing as a kid? 

On the piano, I was playing the normal repertoire. Bach inventions. Chopin. After a couple of years, I started to bring in music that I liked. Pop music, like Tina Turner or Toto. My piano teacher hated that. She thought it was all music of the devil. [laughs] 

     On the saxophone, I really only had had a handful of lessons by the time I entered college. But I would listen. I would do what they do in band, which was the usual course of study. But I would listen and play along with the radio. Which means I have an amazing knowledge of pop music. [laughs] I didn’t own a bunch of jazz records, but I had top-40 radio. That was the music I really dove into. 

     It wasn’t until later, in high school, that my father bought me a David Sanborn record. I heard that and thought, “Wow! This doesn’t sound like what we’re playing in school. He’s like the pop music on the radio, but with a saxophone.” So I started learning all of his records. That led me to the band the Yellowjackets. I loved the Yellowjackets. They led me to Miles Davis, but at the time, I got and listened to the newest Miles Davis record, Amandla, which featured Marcus Miller. That album was not necessarily “jazz” jazz. That sent me on the search for older Miles Davis recordings, which led me to Cannonball Adderley, John Coltrane, and all of these great jazz saxophone players. But that was not what I grew up listening to. I was playing along with saxophonists like Clarence Clemons or Maceo Parker or Junior Walker and songs by Janet Jackson, the Doobie Brothers, and Earth, Wind & Fire. 

     It took awhile for me to get to jazz. Most of my music now is not jazz. Probably the only reason they call me a “jazz” artist is because I play the saxophone. What I play is very pop, rock, and soul influenced. 

What kind of music did your father’s band play? 

Blue-eyed soul! 

Was playing music his job? 

It was. I grew up my first four or five years on the road with his band. All they did was travel. My mother traveled with us as well. I was raised by her and the band. [laughs] 

You attended Berklee College of Music. Was there a time while you were there, as you were learning your instrument and more about what you wanted to do as a professional musician, that you just thought, “I want to leave school. I just want to go out to L.A. and do it!” Did you experience that kind of impatience? 

Oh, absolutely. 

What made you decide to stay in school? 

At a certain point, I was playing six or seven nights a week and going to school, and I thought I just don’t need the piece of paper [the diploma]. No one is going to hire me because I’ve got a piece of paper saying I have a degree in music. They ’re going to hire me because I’m what they want. I’m the artist they want to hire. At the time, I thought, “Why not just leave and go to L.A.? It’ll be the start of my career. I’ll get started a little early, it’ll be great!” 

     I called up one of my friends, the only person I knew who lived in L.A., and he was friends with Randy Jackson, who at that time of course wasn’t on American Idol. He was an A&R guy at Columbia Records. My friend told me to call Randy and talk to him about my wanting to leave school early. 

     I called Randy, and he said, “Both L.A. and New York City are really big markets. Each city has an incredible amount of fine musicians, really excellent musicians who know who they are and they know what they want to say. They’re experienced and they’re going for it. So you’re walking into a situation where you need to be as experienced as possible and ready as possible. It’s going to do you no good to get out here, be in the right city, and the right club, and not be ready.” I thought that was good advice. I took it. I stayed in school and came out to L.A. once I had the piece of paper in my hand. I figured I would spend my time at school becoming excellent at what I do, instead of going out to L.A. when I wasn’t ready or experienced enough to become the player my drive and ambition told me I could be. But I had to pay my dues first. 

Advice like that from someone who was a veteran in the music industry must have carried some weight. 

Yes. He wasn’t some kid my age, 18 years old, telling me, “Yeah! We can just leave! That’s the right thing to do, right?” And we both just agree with each other. 

Interview With Diane Schuur (Excerpted from "Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz.")

Here is another excerpt from my book Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz. It's the introduction to and portion of my interview with Grammy award-winning singer and pianist Diane Schuur. Diane is the featured performer at this year's Trinity Jazz Festival, January 29-31. 

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is a collection of interviews with 37 women musicians from across the spectrum of jazz, including Carmen Lundy, Terri Lyne Carrington, Eliane Elias, Helen Sung, Anat Cohen and many, many other incredible artists. The book available for purchase from Amazon. You can also purchase the book locally at the Jung Center of Houston Bookstore, Casa Ramirez FOLKART Gallery, and Brazos Bookstore.

Diane Schuur. Photo by Lani Garfield.

While editing the transcript of this interview with singer and pianist Diane Schuur, I was intrigued to see that our conversation began and ended with references to rain. We begin by discussing a recording Schuur made when she was just 10 years old of the standard tune “September in the Rain,” which appears on her album Some Other Time. On that album, “September” is programmed as a coda to a selection of songs Schuur heard growing up and recorded as a tribute to her late mother. Blind from birth, Schuur was blessed with perfect pitch and a full, beautiful voice that belied her years. You can hear what I’m describing on that track, recorded at a Tacoma, Washington, Holiday Inn in 1964.
     Like many female jazz musicians of her generation, Schuur’s talent allowed her to begin a musical career at a very young age. As you’ll read in the interview, she began playing piano at the age of 3 and “was singing even earlier than that.” She hit the road immediately after high school, and has enjoyed a hugely successful career as an internationally loved vocalist, pianist, and ambassador for the art of big band performance. She recorded two Grammy Award-winning albums in the late 1980s, Timeless and Diane Schuur and the Count Basie Orchestra, both of which brought the big band sound into the mainstream, and are classics of the genre. The popularity of those records is all the more amazing given the fact that after World War II, big bands became less active in the U.S. as jazz transformed into music for listening while sitting, as opposed to dancing, and rock and roll emerged as the new sound of America’s youth.
     Schuur, known as “Deedles” to her friends, has also recorded plenty of mu¬sic outside of jazz repertoire, including classic country, blues (most notably with guitarist B.B. King), and popular songs. Her most recent recording at the time of this writing is a tribute to two mentors who were also good friends, saxophonist Stan Getz and singer Frank Sinatra. Everything Schuur sings is blessed with her inimitable and engaging style.
     I must admit, for reasons I can’t explain, I was a little intimidated at the prospect of talking to Schuur. But Schuur’s immediate enthusiasm for this project calmed my nerves and reaffirmed my belief that a book collection of interviews with women across the spectrum of jazz would be welcomed not just by fans of this music, but by the musicians who play it as well. As Schuur told me at the end of our first conversation for this book, “A book about women in jazz? That’s pretty fucking cool!”

I was just listening to the recording you made at the age of 10, singing “September in the Rain” [from the album Some Other Time]. Did you have any kind of formal voice lessons before that recording? 
No. I had voice training afterward. I went to the University of Puget Sound when I was 11 years old. Puget Sound is in the Pacific Northwest. That recording was pre-training for sure!

So as a child, you just started singing by ear to produce the voice we hear on that recording? 
Right.

You had such a big voice. Is that just a God-given thing? 
I think for the most part it is. A person can get coaching if they choose to. I did when I was 11 years old. I’m actually getting some coaching now because the voice does change as one gets older. I don’t have an old voice by any means, but placement has to be a little bit different than when you’re a little younger.

Were you also playing the piano at an early age? 
Oh, yeah. I started playing the piano at the age of 3, and I was singing even earlier than that.

You also attended the Washington State School for the Blind. Did that school provide formal music instruction for piano or your voice?
You’re right about the piano part of it. I actually started taking piano lessons when I was 7 at the Washington State School for the Blind. I went to that school from age 4 and a half to age 10 and a half, and then I went to public school.

Were you listening to a lot of jazz at age 10 or 11? 
Yes. That was the main focus. Dinah Washington in particular, Duke Ellington, George Shearing, and Nat King Cole, although I did get exposed to rock and roll, country music, and classical music as well. My mom really loved jazz, and I was exposed to it constantly.

You didn’t attend college, is that correct? 
Just the musical training that I got when I was 11, which was Puget Sound. But no, I did not go to college after high school.

So you headed out after high school to become a professional singer. 
Well, I was a professional musician from the age of 10. I was working up until I graduated from high school. I would come home from the school every weekend and work different places professionally. Once I graduated from high school I worked a lot in the Northwest. In the late 1970s, I started working in the Southwest; I moved to Tucson, Arizona, for a few years, then came back to the Northwest.

Was your family supportive of your career? Did they understand that you had this incredible talent and could make a living as a musician? 
Oh, absolutely! They took me to the Holiday Inn, where I did that recording you mentioned of “September in the Rain” when I was 10. They took me to a lot of other places subsequent to that. I was, I guess, the star of the family, and helped to bring extra money into the household.

At some point, you must have started learning about the business of music, how to make sure you get paid what you’re supposed to get paid for a gig or how to negotiate a contract. 
Oh, yeah.

When did you have to start taking control of the business side of making music? 
My father took care of the business up to a certain point, and then I went ahead and took control. I didn’t have what you would call a formal manager with a contract until the beginning of 1985. That’s when I met my first manager, Paul Cantor, who managed me for 17 and a half years. He was there for the height of my career with the Grammy awards and my appearances on American Bandstand, Solid Gold, and The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson 11 times and once with Jay Leno. He’s [Paul Cantor] still alive today. He took the helm back then, and that’s when a lot of things happened.

Before that time period, before you had a manager, was there a sense of camaraderie among you and the musicians you were performing with? A feeling that we’re all musicians, we’re all in the same boat, and we need to look out for each other? 
There was camaraderie. I think I felt it most with the Count Basie Orchestra. Freddie Green, who was the guitarist with the orchestra, looked after me and kind of protected me in a way, and that was really cool.

Did you have any kind of mentorship early on in your career? 
George Shearing was a mentor when I was growing up, and later on, Stan Getz. There’s a man that I worked with named Overton Berry, who was a wonderful mentor. He’s a pianist in the Seattle area.
     Berry didn’t instruct me on piano. He took me around to various places around the North and Southwest and started introducing me. In 1975, I did the Monterey Jazz Festival and then a gig with his group at an art gallery the day after. And then we just worked together pretty regularly until 1981 or ‘82. Berry was one of my biggest mentors, not only on the musical front but on a very spiritual front as well. Just a very wise individual and a great guy. I can’t say enough about him.

Ray Charles once said: “When you’re blind, you become a soul reader. Everything a person says is a soul note. It comes straight outta their soul, so you read a person immediately.” Does this statement resonate with you? 
Oh, absolutely! Absolutely it does. I couldn’t agree more with what Brother Ray said, because it’s the truth. I think that’s what led me through all of the personal experiences that I went through, that ability to “soul read” people.

Not only musically and personally, but in business as well? 
Yes, it’s all interconnected. That’s my own belief. Maybe other people don’t share that, but it’s absolutely my own belief.

Interview With Dee Dee Bridgewater (Excerpted from "Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz.")

Here is another excerpt from my book Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz. It's the introduction to and just a small portion of my interview with singer Dee Dee Bridgewater. The book is a collection of interviews with 37 women musicians from across the spectrum of jazz, including Carmen Lundy, Terri Lyne Carrington, Eliane Elias, Helen Sung, Anat Cohen and many, many other incredible artists.

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is available for purchase from Amazon. 

There are, unfortunately, very few books that provide a comprehensive appraisal of the contributions of women to the art of jazz, so I appreciate your help with spreading the word about this project. 

Photo of Dee Dee Bridgewater by Mark Higashino.

The great jazz singer Billie Holiday possessed a certain genius at recasting the melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, and lyrical content of popular music. Dramatist, critic, and poet Amiri Baraka wrote that Holiday “. . . is never tied to ‘the given,’ either the form or the intended content,”40 and describes her as “the poet of jazz singing.” Despite being described as a “keeper of tradition,” Grammy and Tony Award-winning singer Dee Dee Bridgewater, like Holiday, has never been tied to “the given.” She too is a poet, griot, and historian, but she’s also a hell of an entertainer. 
     “I used to say I came from the Sammy Davis, Jr. school of music,” says Bridgewater. “Because when I was growing up, a lot of entertainers had to be able to do all of that, or they weren’t considered a full entertainer.” 
Like the iconic singers she grew up watching on television, singers such as Judy Garland, Diahann Carroll, Frank Sinatra, and Elvis Presley, who reached millions of viewers on shows like the Perry Como Show, the Ed Sullivan Show, the Lawrence Welk Show, and the Grand Ole Opry, Bridgewater is a truly multifaceted artist, with a résumé that includes several theatrical and film roles. Bridgewater received a Tony Award for Best Featured Actress in a Musical for her role in The Wiz and a Laurence Olivier Award nomination for her immersive portrayal of Billie Holiday in Stephen Stahl’s musical Lady Day. 
     To say Bridgewater is “theatrical” in performance is an understatement. In fact, I’d go further and describe what she does as something closer to channel¬ing; Bridgewater establishes an almost psychic rapport with her audiences, all while directing her band with her voice, her eyes, and her body to create an experience more transcendent than mere “music theater.” 
     In an earlier conversation, when I asked her about her singing “Strange Fruit,” the 1939 song made famous by Holiday that describes, in graphic detail, the lynching of African Americans in the South, Bridgewater explained she let her audience dictate, in unspoken terms, whether or not to perform the song. 
     “I have to feel the audience,” she explained, “and see if they want to go there with me.” 
     There is great depth and variety to Bridgewater’s recorded output, including tributes to singers Ella Fitzgerald and Holiday, pianist Horace Silver, and composer Kurt Weill, as well as Red Earth: A Malian Journey, a project recorded in Mali with musicians from Senegal, Guinea, and other parts of West Africa, that had a profound impact on her singing. Bridgewater cites the great jazz singer Betty Carter for inspiring her to start her own recording label (DDB Productions) in order to maintain control over her creative output and the business of making art. Interestingly, like Bridgewater, several of the musicians interviewed in this book run their own record labels and handle much of their own PR and marketing. 
     “I decided my own music and my fate, my image, my everything,” says Bridgewater. “You need to own it, baby.” 

When did you first begin playing a musical instrument? 
I don’t play any musical instruments. I’ve always sung my entire life. At the age of 7, I announced to my parents that when I grew up I was going to be an internationally known and very-well-respected jazz singer! And there you go. I predicted my future without even knowing it. 
     When I was a child, I thought everybody listened to jazz because there was so much jazz music playing in my home. Both of my parents loved jazz music. My mother was more into jazz singers, while my father [Matthew Garrett] was a trumpet player who had taught music back in Memphis, Tennessee, where I was born. I’ve always sung. Always. 

After you made that announcement, did some kind of formal music instruction begin for you? 
I’ve never had any formal musical training at all. None. I do not read music. I can’t write music. I’ve just always relied on my ears. 

You never had a voice instructor? 
Well, I did work with a vocal coach. When I was with the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra, I took a few lessons to learn how to breathe and project my voice. 
     After a tonsillectomy, when I was 26, 27, I had to take speech lessons and learn how to breathe again. I had enlarged tonsils up until that age and always had problems with laryngitis caused by infections in my tonsils. I had a very small wind passage for air to come through, and when my tonsils were re¬moved, all of a sudden I had this huge passage for air. But I couldn’t say words that started with “d” or “p” or “t.” So, once again, I had to go to a vocal coach to learn how to breathe again with this open airway that had been so constricted all my life. But I’ve never had anyone work with me to teach me how to sing. Never. 

Was some kind of music programming available to you in school? 
No. I’ve never had any musical training. 
     When I was a teenager, I put together a vocal trio. We modeled ourselves after the first vocal trios that were signed to [the record label] Motown in Detroit. We called ourselves the Iridescents. I had a girlfriend who played piano, and she and I wrote songs together for the three of us to sing. But that’s the closest I’ve come to any kind of training at all. I never had any kind of musical classes in school. Nothing. Zero. 

As a young woman, who were some of your role models for singing? 
My role models were drawn from people I heard on recordings. I was fascinated with a lot of different types of singers when I was young. My mother loved Johnny Mathis, so I heard a lot of Johnny Mathis and Harry Belafonte. I fell in love with Jimmy Scott. I was enamored with Nina Simone, and fascinated by her political stance and her pride in her African heritage. She was the first singer who made me think “maybe I have some African heritage.” 
     My first big idol was Nancy Wilson. She just decorated my walls when I was a teenager. I liked Lena Horne — I just thought she was so beautiful along with Nancy Wilson. I thought Diahann Carroll was a very beautiful woman; she was doing more singing back in the 60s and 70s before her acting career really took off. My mother, sister, and I were big Aretha Franklin fans. We would go to Aretha Franklin concerts together when I was a teenager. 
     I listened to black radio stations, so I could know what was going on. When I was like 9, 10, there was a radio station broadcasting out of Memphis that I could pick up after midnight that played a lot of blues. 
     My mother swears that I could scat before I could speak. She said I could scat with Ella Fitzgerald when I was 10 months old. And there must be some truth to that because I have always been able to scat. I never had to learn to scat. 

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz reviewed by Weekly Alibi

Robin Babb of Weekly Alibi recently wrote a review of my book Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz. She writes:

"Each interview is in-depth and organic. Becker asks many of the same questions of each artist, but is also a lively conversationalist and draws unique long-form answers from his interviewees. He clearly knows the oeuvres of each musician and—as somebody with a musical background himself—knows about many of the challenges that these artists face. But he also knows the challenges that he hasn’t faced: He acknowledges his male perspective and his advantage. As Mindi Abair mentions in her interview, 'One day we won’t need a book called "Women in Jazz."' Until that day comes, I’m glad that we’ve got such a book."

You can read the entire review here. And you can read more of Robin's writing here.

Interview With Drummer Sherrie Maricle (Excerpted from Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz)

What follows is the introduction to and a portion of my interview with drummer Sherrie Maricle, excerpted from my book Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz. The book is a collection of interviews with 37 women musicians from across the spectrum of jazz, including Dee Dee Bridgewater, Carmen Lundy, Terri Lyne Carrington, Eliane Elias, Helen Sung, Anat Cohen and many, many other incredible artists.

Freedom of Expression: Interviews With Women in Jazz is available to purchase online from the ubiquitous Amazon, CreateSpace and the Jung Center of Houston. In Houston, TX, you can also pick up a copy at Casa Ramirez FOLKART Gallery.

The response to the book has been overwhelmingly positive. I appreciate everyone's support for this project, especially since there are very, very few books in-print that comprehensively examine the contributions of women to the art of jazz.

(Sherrie Maricle. Photo by Bill Westmoreland.) 

Growing up in the 1970s in Endicott, New York, drummer Sherrie Maricle saw several big bands in concert, including those led by Count Basie, Frank Sinatra, Stan Kenton, Mel Lewis, Woody Herman, and [drummer] Buddy Rich. Hearing Rich was her first encounter with jazz drumming.
     “I really fell in love with the drums when a teacher took me to see Buddy Rich and his Killer Force Orchestra,” says Maricle. “When I saw that band, I got so excited . . . I ran home and told my mother I was going to play the drums— that I loved big band and I wanted to do that. And that’s all I ever wanted to do since I was 11 years old.”
     Starting in the 1940s, Buddy Rich’s big band was managed by legendary conductor, drummer, and manager Stanley Kay. Kay served as the band’s relief drummer as well, a scary position to be in, considering Rich’s virtuosic ferocity on the drums and reputation for being a tough taskmaster.
     In 1992, Kay contacted Maricle about forming an all-woman big band. She was intrigued, especially since he made it clear he had no interest in dressing the musicians “in leather skirts and fishnet stockings.” Before meeting Kay, Maricle had little interest in all-women musical projects, mainly because of the way they were traditionally marketed.
     “You can see in the film The Girls in the Band,” says Maricle, “that even if women were playing great, their cleavage, lipstick, hair, dresses, makeup, and high heels were more important than the music.”
     Together, Kay and Maricle founded the all-women big band The DIVA Jazz Orchestra, with Maricle as bandleader and drummer. Kay managed The DIVA Jazz Orchestra until his death in June 2010. In addition to The DIVA Jazz Orchestra, Maricle also leads the quintet FIVE PLAY and the DIVA Jazz Trio. The three all-women bands have released a total of 20 recordings, including The DIVA Jazz Orchestra’s A Swingin’ Life (2014), recorded live at Dizzy ’s Club Coca Cola in New York City, with guest vocalists Nancy Wilson and Marlena Shaw.
     In the following interview, Maricle describes her musical journey, from listening to big bands in grade school, to becoming one of the most highly respected drummers, bandleaders, and educators in jazz. Her many awards include the 2009 Mary Lou Williams-Kennedy Center Lifetime Achievement Award, the Kennedy Center Alliance Award for Outstanding Achievements in the Arts, a Doctoral Fellowship from New York University, the 2006 New York City Music Educator’s Award for Outstanding Contributions to Music Education, and New York University ’s “Music Teacher of the Year” in 1997 and 2000. Maricle completed a Master of Arts in Jazz Performance and Doctorate of Philosophy in Jazz Performance and Composition at New York University.
     Stanley Kay famously said, “Music has no gender. If you can play, you can play.” All-women music projects like The DIVA Jazz Orchestra and recent documentaries like the aforementioned The Girls in the Band have affirmed Kay ’s statement, and Maricle’s work as a drummer, bandleader, and educator continues to help frame this music as something other than a masculine-oriented art form.

When did you first begin playing a musical instrument? 
I was in fourth grade, and I wanted to play the trumpet, but I was told that girls didn’t play the trumpet, so the band teacher insisted that I play a metal clarinet, which I started playing, but I didn’t like at all. And I know I didn’t like the music teacher! I was attempting to quit and he called my house and begged me to stay in band. So I did, but I also started playing the cello, and I had a great teacher; his name was Ivan Briden. So I started those two instruments, clarinet and cello, at about the same time.
     When I was in sixth grade, the band director needed an extra person to play the bass drum for a piece featuring a lot of percussion, so I volunteered, and that ignited my endless love for percussion.

Did percussion speak to you in a different way than the clarinet or the cello? 
I always loved watching marching bands and drummers in a parade. But I really fell in love with the drums when a teacher took me to see [jazz drummer] Buddy Rich and his Killer Force Orchestra.            When I saw that band, I got so excited. I’d never really heard any jazz before. I ran home and told my mother I was going to play the drums — that I loved big band and I wanted to do that. And that’s all I ever wanted to do since I was 11 years old.

That’s wonderful you got to see Buddy Rich at such a young age.
I was born in Buffalo, but the town I grew up in was Endicott, New York. It’s in the middle of New York State on the southern border of Pennsylvania. Every “road” band traveled through town. I got to see Count Basie a number of times. Frank Sinatra came to town, also Buddy Rich, Stan Kenton, Mel Lewis, and Woody Herman. Road bands were still going strong in the 70s, and I saw all of them many times. It was a really great place to grow up!

Were your parents fans of this music? 
My mom loved and loves Irish music and country music, so I grew up every single morning listening to Johnny Cash or the Clancy Brothers. But my parents were definitely not jazz people. So I wasn’t really exposed to it until I was in school and had teachers and like-minded friends who were interested in jazz. That’s when I really started to investigate the music is a serious manner.

Was the next step to ask Mom and Dad to buy a drum kit for you? 
I did. I started out with a practice pad and shortly thereafter pleaded and begged my mom for a snare drum. She ended up at a local music store but she didn’t really know what a snare drum was. Unfortunately the music store owner sold her a half-broken, 12-inch tom-tom instead of a snare drum.      I was so grateful to her that I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was the wrong drum. So I kept it and practiced on that for a while. Eventually Mom got me my first drum set . . . gold sparkle . . . to which I added my “original” broken tom-tom.
     I’m sure my mother thought, “Oh, my daughter’s crazy! What’s happening here? There are no girl drummers. Maybe she’ll grow out of this phase.” But I give her a lot of credit for allowing me to [play drums] and spending her money that she didn’t really have on a drum kit. My mother was and is so generous!