No Beethoven: An Autobiography & Chronicle of Weather Report
Page 1
Front cover photograph: Shigeru Uchiyama
Back cover photograph: Norman Seeff, courtesy of CBS Records
© 2013 Peter Erskine
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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing/photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
“I ain’t afraid of no Beethoven.”
– Joe Zawinul to Peter Erskine, circa 1979
About the Author
Peter Erskine has played the drums since age four and is known for his versatility and love of working in different musical contexts. He appears on 600 albums and film scores, and has won two Grammy Awards, plus an Honorary Doctorate from the Berklee School of Music.
Thirty albums have been released under his own name or as co-leader. He has played with the Stan Kenton and Maynard Ferguson Big Bands, Weather Report, Steps Ahead, Joni Mitchell, Steely Dan, Diana Krall, Kenny Wheeler, The Brecker Brothers, The Yellowjackets, Pat Metheny and Gary Burton, John Scofield, et al, and has appeared as a soloist with the London, Los Angeles, Chicago, Frankfurt Radio, Scottish Chamber, Royal Opera House, BBC Symphony and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestras. Peter has been named ‘Best Jazz Drummer of the Year’ ten times by Modern Drummer magazine. Peter graduated from the Interlochen Arts Academy and studied at Indiana University under George Gaber. He is currently Professor of Practice and Director of Drumset Studies at USC. Peter is married with two children and lives in Santa Monica, California.
-- TABLE OF CONTENTS --
Foreword by Mitch Haupers
Thus Spake Zawinul
Club Harlem
Weather Report is a Big Band
I Join the Band
Mr. Gone
Summer of ’61
Joe
Educating Peter
Guardian Angels
School
Interlochen
Indiana U.
Summer of 1972
The Stan Kenton Orchestra
On the Road
Music Companies - Interlude
In Praise of Zildjian
In Further Praise of Elvin
Yamaha
Drum Workshop
Slingerland Drums
I Leave Kenton
Maynard Ferguson
Tokyo, Japan, 1978
Jaco
Weather Report Attitude
Weather Report’s Contentious Ways
Living in California
Recording Session Stories
Go East, Young Man
But First, Down South
Cue Now... I’ll Take Manhattan
Peter Erskine: On the Record
More Sounds in the Big Apple
Common Denominator
Steps Ahead & New York City
Madarao, Japan
Tachikawa to Santa Monica
What the Hell?
And Baby Makes 4
The Play’s the Thing
The ECM Recordings
Competition
Life Goes On
Plays Well With Others
Diary of Two Film Sessions
Back to the Classics
Flying to Japan Again
Me and Japan
Life 2
More Talk About Life and Art
USC
Whither Jazz Goest?
Wayne
From Fearless to Self-conscious
Weather Report Drummers
Stormy Weather
Three Views
Two Deaths
Musical Salute
Quasthoff
The End
Last Letter to Me From Joe
Appendix 1: People
Appendix 2: Music
Afterword
Photos
Bonus Photos
Foreword
Why am I writing this?! After reading an advance draft of Mr. Erskine’s latest memoirs — the book you now hold in your hands — I proffered the following advice to the author: “You should get a heavy hitter to write a foreword.” Of course, I was thinking of Wayne Shorter, given that this autobiography has the drummer’s years with the influential band Weather Report as one central theme. Then again, having only recently met Mr. Shorter…well, lets just say that those who really know him might describe him as a man of few words — or at least one whose words are so carefully chosen as they may tend toward brevity, even come across as cryptic at times. Good enough. Well then, what about all the other high-level and well-known musicians that Mr. Erskine has supported and collaborated with over his long and storied career? We know that some of these folks are amazing writers! Walter Becker and Donald Fagen (aka Steely Dan), Joni Mitchell, Diana Krall, John Abercrombie, Eliane Elias, Marc Johnson, Bill Frisell, Alan Pasqua, Bob Mintzer, Russell Ferrante, Jimmy Haslip, Vince Mendoza, John Williams…shall I go on? [It’s an impressive and long list of the who’s who in the music industry…just check out the discography and filmography by way of Peter’s website, www.petererskine.com!]
It comes down to this: I like Peter Erskine’s drumming…a lot! His myriad recordings have been on my “playlist” for decades (long before iPods ever existed) and, it would seem that Peter Erskine likes my writing (as evidenced by his request for and acceptance of my liner notes for his latest trio recording, Joy Luck). Perhaps even more obvious in his response to my suggestion to find a celebrated writer: “I would be honored if you would write the foreword!” Hmm, so much for my idea!
So, now the circle is forming: I also like Peter Erskine’s writing! In fact, I found this book to be a most engaging, informative, and at times brutally honest account of a rich and, in many ways, ground-breaking musical life. One that, if read with a modicum of compassion for the realities of life as a road warrior (touring musician) and acceptance of the “rough-around-the-edges” lifestyle that goes along with it (especially in the jazz world), will entertain and inform those who know the man, the musician, the friend. This book will also “fill in the blanks” for fans who have followed the drummer’s career or the many bands with whom he has been an integral part. I would also add, and of this I am most hopeful, that aspiring young musicians (even aspiring old musicians) will find enlightenment from the wisdom contained herein.
Peter Erskine’s life story is still evolving and his musical contributions continue to define and explore the other side of drumming. Sure, he swings hard and continues to function as one of the premier big band drummers to carry the mantle from his early years with Stan Kenton’s band through his years with Maynard Ferguson and into the present. (I heard him perform recently here in Boston with Berklee’s Jazz Orchestra, as the Armand Zildjian Visiting Artist. What a treat to hear him navigate everything from more contemporary writers to the classic Sammy Nestico charts from Basie’s band!) Still, the thing that separates Erskine from many of his drumming contemporaries is his willingness, actually his insistence, on getting the musical point across without unnecessary pyrotechnics — of which, he is clearly capable.
The evolution of this drumming style (sometimes referred to by Erskine as “3-D musical architecture”) relies, to a large degree, on close listening, massive amounts of preparation and the surrender of one’
s ego — well, not completely, but certainly in deference to the music. Speaking with Erskine on the subject, one hears an obvious reverence, accompanied by a reduction of volume in his delivery. He almost brings the conversation to a whisper, as if prefacing with “this is an important thing I’m going to say now, so pay close attention.” This describes Erskine’s approach to drumset playing, as well. His manner of speaking and his playing are one. Rule #1: You must listen closely in order to truly hear what the music needs.
There is no way to stampede toward the kind of touch that Peter Erskine possesses on his instrument. Rule #2: do your homework! I have been teaching for a number of decades now and have witnessed the reluctance of so many young aspiring musicians to exact the discipline required to progress their craft. I’ve also seen the glowing results when practicing is seen as a daily routine and approached with joy rather than dread. I also understand that the grind of daily music making (for a living) can take its toll on practice time. In other words, get to it while you can…once your dream comes true and you are in demand as a player…well, practice now or keep dreaming.
How can and why should one ensure that one is “out of the way of the music”? Rule #3: this is NOT about you, it is always about the music, yet you cannot disappear completely. OK, well now I’ve said it and, while this could take up an entire shelf full of books on self-help, lets get to the point. Surrender is a large part of Erskine’s philosophy of playing music…so what is he talking about? There is a way of listening, of really hearing and becoming fully aware of one’s surroundings that is implied here. One that requires a diminishing of noise (critical commentary) and static (negative thought patterns) in order to get to the essence of “what comes next” in one’s playing. This is especially true for improvisers. This process of listening can also be viewed as one of editing and focusing one’s energy toward being very open. Openness to hearing others, openness to experiencing novelty, openness to sharing the space in which music exists, openness to flowing…
As you may surmise, I am sometimes blinded by a spirit of reverence for practitioners of the arts — in particular, musicians. More specifically, those players who have dedicated themselves to a lifelong pursuit of finding truth and beauty wherever and whenever, and who take the time to report back to the rest of humanity; they have long been my heroes. This past summer, I had the honor of working with Peter Erskine in the studio, recording my original compositions. This experience, especially after years of listening to his own trios, provided a culmination of many musical dreams and aspirations.
He played my music and, not only improved on my concept, but approached his own instrument in a way I’ve never heard before — he seems to constantly reinvent himself. He listens and adapts and plays inclusively. From my perspective, Peter Erskine is a masterful “compercussionist” (my term for a drummer who also plays melody, harmony and thinks like a composer when improvising). It makes perfect sense that he has continued the legacy we first encountered in the legendary pianist Bill Evans’ approach to the trio — the art of conversational playing.
So you see, dear reader, one cannot help but be influenced by Peter Erskine’s music, philosophy, or his writing; for there exists a deep commitment and long history of forging new paths that, for some, is both intriguing and inspirational. He crosses interdisciplinary boundaries with great aplomb, he expands the physical limits of the instrument with grace and economy of motion, and he consistently transcends the definition of his art form — his oeuvre speaks for itself.
I started writing about his book and ended up reflecting on his influence on my own path. Peter Erskine’s numerous recordings have one central thing in common: regardless of genre, there is his quiet, yet solid presence and, yes, his enviable touch that makes each musical offering uniquely his own. He listens…like we all should listen. Any sensitive reader will hear it in this telling of his own musical life. This is really Volume 1 of a continuing story…find a quiet place and enjoy.
Mitch Haupers
January 14, 2013
1. Thus Spake Zawinul
“Sad motherfucker…”
Moments before, I had surrendered my headphones to Joe on Japan Airlines flight #61 as it cruised 35,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean. We were flying from LAX to Tokyo’s newly opened Narita Airport. It was Saturday, June 17, 1978, and Weather Report was about to tour Japan as a quartet with me as its new drummer. A lunch of beefsteak had been served with soba noodle starter. Seated alone on this pivotal journey and wearing a new set of clothes for the trip, I already managed to stain my shirt with soy sauce.
Too excited to sleep, and it was mid-afternoon to boot, I plugged headphones into my Panasonic cassette boom box and was listening to some pleasant music by a leading keyboard artist of the day — not bebop, more like late ’70s pop-smooth-jazz — and daydreaming about my girlfriend when I spotted Joe half a cabin ahead, walking aft. Somehow, I knew he was headed straight for me, and I knew what was going to happen next. My Coltrane and Miles tapes were in the overhead baggage compartment, and there was no chance to grab one of them by the time he was upon me. He motioned for me to give up my headphones so he could hear what I was listening to. I smiled weakly and offered up my Koss headset, which he donned in brisk fashion. Zawinul stood in the aisle with a fist on each hip, similar to a football referee’s indication of “offside,” while looking forward and backwards and up and down the aisle with an expression I hadn’t yet come to know or understand, but I could tell that he wasn’t digging the music I was listening too very much.
He finally looked directly at me and yelled the way that people wearing headphones always shout, demanding I confirm the identity of the offending musician whose name he had just bellowed as a question. [Beat.] I kept smiling and nodded to convey, “Yep, that’s who it is.” [Another beat.] Joe took the headphones off and held them astride my ears as he simply said, “Sad motherfucker…,” and then plopped the phones back onto my head and walked away.
Thus spake Zawinul.
I wondered how and if I was going to survive this macho jazz gauntlet.
Welcome to Weather Report.
photo: Shigeru Uchiyama
The road to this trans-oceanic journey begins 20 years earlier when, in my infancy, I’m playing along to my father’s vinyl LP records on a makeshift drumset that he has put together for me in front of a large Klipsch monaural speaker cabinet in our family’s living room. Being that young, I don’t understand the concept of recordings; I think that there are little people inside this large speaker cabinet, and that putting a round piece of plastic into the machine wakes them up and they make music for me — His Majesty the Baby.
The music includes LPs by Tito Puente, Art Blakey, Martin Denny, Specs Powell, Esquivel, and Henry Mancini. The conga drum comes from Cuba and the small rivet cymbal from who-knows-where, and this setup functions not only as a thrown-together kit but also as a sort of compass. I’m four years old and I already know that I will be playing the drums for Weather Report. Well, I can’t actually know that just yet, but I pretty much have already figured out that this is what I’m going to be doing for the rest of my life.
First will come private lessons and summer music camps, always to the accompaniment of parental cheering and sibling support. Next will come conservatory training, followed by my first gigs...
2. Club Harlem
It was the summer of 1972 and I was returning to my position as house drummer for the band at the legendary Club Harlem in Atlantic City. The club was 38 years old at that point in time; I had just turned 18. The year before, when I first did the gig, my mom had to drop me off and pick me up in front of the club for a couple of weeks until I got my driver’s license. The Club Harlem was located on Kentucky Avenue. Atlantic City has changed a lot since 1972, and while Kentucky Avenue is still there, the Club Harlem no longer exists. But it was home in its heyday to such legendary visiting black artists and entertainers as Sammy Davis, Jr., James Brown, Sam Cooke, Ella Fitzgerald, Stev
ie Wonder, Sarah Vaughan, Ray Charles, Redd Foxx, and many others. Acts would usually come there for a one-week stint. The Club Harlem had a show room in the back that could seat 900 people. It also had a bar in the front where organ trios would play in-between the shows in the main room. I got to hear such jazz greats as Lonnie Smith and Jimmy McGriff during my breaks.
The really fun part about the Club Harlem was that there was a breakfast show that started at 5 a.m. on Sundays. All of the celebrities appearing in Atlantic City on any given weekend would come to the Harlem’s breakfast show after the other nightclubs closed for the evening. The club served scrambled eggs, Bloody Marys or Screwdrivers, and we played a final set. And then the organ band in the front of the club would play their last set. All the while, aromas from the various soul food eateries and the “head” and incense shops on the street mingled with the perfume of the nearby Atlantic Ocean.
So, it was the beginning of summer and I greeted bandleader Johnny Lynch — a lovely old man with a wig fashioned in the style of the day, a large Afro. The band consisted of Johnny on trumpet, two saxophone players, bass (the excellent Eddie Mathias), piano, and drums. Believe it or not, for the dance routine (two women with natural Afros and one male dancer, all of them dressed in leopard-skin fur) and resident vocalist, we had a conductor who wielded a big baton. His name was John Usry, Jr., and his sister, Soundra, was the singer. John went on to have some success producing disco recordings, I believe. For fun, the pianist in the house band, Gary Gannaway, used to find Usry’s baton just before show time and toss it into a hole in the wall backstage that led to a long-forgotten basement. Usry would panic and curse behind the red velvet curtain that was just to the right of the drumset. I learned some new and imaginative combinations of colorful language in 1972.
The Three Degrees was the first group I worked with that summer. I rehearsed their book with the house band on the day before they were scheduled to come to town. Some nice tunes, including one of their hits, “Everybody Gets to Go to the Moon” (the same song they sing during their cameo appearance in the 1974 film The French Connection), and a cool arrangement of Aretha Franklin’s hit “Rock Steady.”