 |
Roy Haynes A
Legend At 80Editor's note:
Roy
Haynes is without question one of the most important jazz drummers in
history. His impressive, sixty-year career has
included work with such
greats as Charlie Parker, Billie Holliday, Sarah Vaughan, Miles Davis,
John Coltrane, Chick Corea,
and Pat Metheny, among many others. Haynes
continues to be very active as a player, mostly recording and touring
with his
own group. And this is quite remarkable, considering the fact
that earlier this year Roy turned eighty.
To help
celebrate this milestone, we thought this a perfect opportunity
to 'revisit Mr. Haynes with a cover story. And we asked
veteran jazz
writer (and longtime friend) Ira Gitler to interview Roy. The following
story reveals a lot about this master of the
instrument, one of the
hippest drummers ever to pick up sticks.
It's not always easy to pin down a
person as busy as Roy Haynes for an
interview because, when he isn't occupied with his profession, he's
inclined
to relax at home (in the 516 area code) and not motor into New
York City. However, earlier this year, during his
eightieth-birthday
(March 13) week of performances at the Village Vanguard, Modern Drummer had arranged an afternoon
photo shoot for this article, and I took advantage of it to sit down with this great artist.
I might as well begin with the first
time I heard Roy Haynes in person,
because I've often recounted to him my exhilaration and delight on that
premier
occasion. It was in 1949 at one of those late-afternoon into
early-evening Sunday jam sessions that had become part of the New
York
jazz scene at least as far back as the '30s. The scene was the Hotel
Markwell on West 47th Street.
Saxophonist/bandleader Georgie Auld had
taken over the bar and renamed it Tin Pan Alley. Roy was sitting in and
soon
began to arrest my attention and amaze me with his four- and
eight-bar constructions in conversational exchanges with the
horn
players, which were called "chase" choruses at the time.
"I was developing it as I was doing it," Haynes
explains. He went on to
think in terms of twelve and sixteen bars, extending these highly
rhythmic yet epigrammatic
gems.
To understand what made Haynes the intuitive musician he is, you have
to go back to his formative years.
I've written about him a number of
times, and I've read many other pieces about him. Perhaps I missed it,
but it
occurred to me as I made my way down to the Vanguard recently
that I'd never read anything about his early childhood,
growing up in
Roxbury, Massachusetts. When the photographer finished the shoot and
Roy and I had sat down on one of the
banquettes that run along the
club's side wall of the elevated section, my first question went back
to the late
1920s.
"I had an older brother," Roy began. "My mother and father were both
from Barbados, and Douglas was born
there." After the family moved to
America, Roy and his younger brother Vin were born. Doug, according to
Roy, was five years
older than him. "He didn't get along with my
father, seemingly," Roy recalls, "and by the time he was a teenager, he
was
on the road. He knew a lot about the Savoy Ballroom and about the
bands. He had all the records; and he was the one who had
a pair of
drumsticks in the house. That's where I picked up my first pair.
'doug didn't play drums,"
Roy continues. "He played trumpet. After the
war he got out of the service. The war messed him up. But he did go to
the New
England Conservatory at the same time as Cecil Taylor."
Haynes cites his brother and "listening to the radio" as the
two main
influences in his interest in jazz. It was Doug who introduced him to
Count Basie's great drummer, Jo Jones.
"Jo told me many times that it
was my brother who brought me to see him," Roy recalls. "Doug knew
everybody. He was my
main connection to jazz. And he had a lot of
records by Duke, Basie, and Billie Holiday.
"In Roxbury, an Irish family
lived on one side of us and a French
Canadian lady lived on the other. She played the piano every
Sunday - Gershwin,
Broadway tunes. And I heard Art Tatum and Bing Crosby
records on the local radio station. Across the street, there was
a
synagogue. I heard them blow the ram's horn and also sing religious
music - chanting after a funeral."
But
the die was cast for Haynes when he picked up his brother's
drumsticks. "I just knew I was a drummer," he says. "I was
banging on
everything in the house. I may have been eight or nine when my father
wanted me to get some drum
lessons."
Haynes senior, who had been a church organist in Barbados, arranged for
his son to study with a man who
lived across the street. "He gave me a
couple of lessons on the snare drum," Roy says. "It was the first time
I ever heard the
"mamma-daddy" rhythm."
Roy learned much later that his teacher had been Herbie Wright, the
drummer with James
Reese Europe's 369th Infantry Regiment Band. In
addition to Wright, another drummer who was an early influence of
Roy's
was Bobby Donaldson. He was three years older than Roy and lived on the
same block. Donaldson went on to
work with Andy Kirk, Lucky Millinder,
and everyone from Benny Goodman, Eddie Condon, and Dorothy Donegan to
Herbie
Mann, Curtis Fuller, and Charlie Byrd.
Did Haynes participate in his schools' bands" "I was in all of them. I
was
so hip," he says with a smile. "In junior high I wanted to be the
drum major, tell 'em what to do."
Roy did put in
some time with the drum & bugle corps, but says, "I
was never a rudimental drummer, so I think my sound comes from my
mind
more than my hands."
Those hands got him into trouble at Roxbury Memorial High School,
nicknamed
"The Synagogue" for its predominantly Jewish student body.
"One time I was drumming with my hands on the desk," Roy
admits. "I had
the class in the palm of my hand. But the teacher actually sent a note
to the principal. My father used to say
that I was just nervous. I left
later in that third year and finished school hanging out with Lester
Young and Charlie
Parker."
There was a little more formal study in Haynes' future, but quite a lot
of first-hand experience. In a
short stay at the Boston Conservatory,
Haynes took lessons from Karl Ludwig. "during that period," Roy says,
"I played with
Sidney Bechet at the Savoy on Massachusetts Avenue."
Other gigs with signal players during this period (1943-44)
involved
trumpeter Frankie Newton and alto saxophonist Pete Brown. Haynes also
spent some time in the Sabby Lewis band,
a Boston favorite of the time.
'there were no drum parts," Roy recalls, "So I was really impressed
when a guy named Joe
Booker sat in and read the first trumpet's part.
When I left I was replaced by Osie Johnson."
Haynes' next
job was on Martha's Vineyard with a band led by one Phil
Edmond that played stock arrangements. "In those days we had
two
unions, black and white. I got a special delivery letter, sent to Local
535 on Massachusetts Avenue, from Luis Russell in
New York, asking me
to join his band. I wanted to go to New York with a big band anyhow. I
sent him a telegram saying that I
was interested but that I couldn't
join until after Labor Day because the Edmond job was for the
whole
summer."
Russell summoned Haynes on the recommendation of Boston-born Charlie
Holmes, a fine alto
saxophonist in the Johnny Hodges style, who had
played with Russell's band. "Charlie Holmes told Russell about me.
He
believed in me," Roy says. "As a matter of fact, I stayed at Charlie's
house for about a month after I got to New York.
Luis sent me a one-way
train ticket - and I'm still here."
Haynes' New York debut was an auspicious one -
at the Savoy Ballroom.
While he was with Luis Russell he was borrowed by Louis Armstrong, who
had fronted Russell's
band from 1935 to 1943. "In '46, I made a short
tour of tobacco warehouses in the South with Louie," Roy remembers.
All
of this was quite an introduction to the jazz world at large for the
young drummer, and a period of invaluable
experience.
In 1947 he made a transition from Russell's orchestra to the combo of
Lester Young. For
musicians of Haynes' generation, who had grown up
loving the Basie band and the "President" of the tenor
saxophone,
Lester Young, it had to be a special time. Roy was with Prez into 1949.
"I was the instigator, like Tony [Williams]
in Miles' band," he says.
"The only reason I left Prez is that he went with Norman Granz's Jazz
At The
Philharmonic, and that's when I joined Kai Winding."
In August of that year Roy recorded for Prestige with
trombonist
Winding's sextet. Earlier in the month he was on with Bud Powell's
quintet date for Blue Note that
included Fats Navarro and Sonny
Rollins. In November, again for Prestige, he was in the studio with
Wardell Gray's
quartet. The kind of crisp, swinging, supportively
pulsating, inventive drumming that captivated me at Tin Pan Alley is in
strong
evidence on all three dates.
"My feeling was the thing they liked," pinpoints Haynes in talking
about the many and
varied leaders in his dossier. "When I first joined
Prez, he was thrilled because he thought I was swinging. He
didn't
particularly like drummers to get too involved, and I was doing
different stuff with the left foot and left hand. I was
dancing, but it
was there. And that's the thing, I'm sure, that carried me all these years, playing with all these
different people.
"Maybe lots of times I suggested the beat. As Mingus used to say, 'Roy
Haynes, you didn't play the beat, you suggested the beat.'"
Ira Gitler
Back
|
 |
|
 |