Many people who attend my performances seem to be interested in how I got to where I’m at now. They ask, “How did you get started?” Or “What does it take to have a career in music?” I, like most, have answered those and similar questions many times, but for some reason I got to thinking about it from another perspective –one probably much closer to the truth.

That old expression, “It was just dumb luck,” says a lot, and, in many cases may answer the question, “Why do things happen the way they do?” Or why one person may “make it” and another doesn’t. Thinking about, I may be a perfect example of this, and it may – in my case - convey to a simple degree how it worked in my life.

Consider this: The catalyst for what comprises a large part of what we experience is timing or luck, whichever you prefer; that is - being in the right place at the right time. And while we may have control over some things - our efforts to develop whatever gifts we possess or the decisions we may make as to whether we take advantage of the opportunities we are presented - a great deal of our experience hinges on sheer luck, good or bad.

Luck or happenstance caused me to be born to the parents I had, basically two people from small country towns in Tennessee who later moved to Memphis to make a life. While they were not terribly educated or worldly, they were loving and supportive and though they didn’t understand my musical life, they remained  supportive of me all their lives. They were honest and hard-working with a real sense of honor, all of which they instilled in me. It was just luck to be born to them, a life experience from which all else emanated.

Who would have guessed that my path in life would have been determined by the fact that the schools in Memphis required students in the seventh grade to take either band or chorus and art? Being shy and having no talent for art or singing, I chose the band because I thought I could hide in a large group. And upon hearing a recording of Clyde McCoy’s “Sugar Blues” from my brother’s record collection, I would choose the trumpet, which would be the life-long source of my self-expression.

How fortunate that my first band director was an excellent teacher, had an interest in those of us who seemed to “get the message” and would do all he could to encourage that interest.  And that my brother, Gordon, possessing a love for Jazz and dance band music would allow me to listen to and play along with his records from which my first attempts at improvisation would materialize. Gordon would become my first great influence in Jazz. All sheer luck, but creating experiences that would be life-altering.

And it goes on and on. How I came to have the best high school band director in the city, one who understood my passion for music and encouraged me always, never letting me drift from the straight and narrow. It was my great fortune to study with Perry Wilson, my trumpet teacher who kept my feet in both the Jazz and classical worlds, teaching me so much about playing music and giving me the foundation I needed to go in any direction I might choose. He has remained my dear friend and mentor since those early years.

Even my attending the University of North Texas was a stroke of fortune due to my friend Bob Ferguson sending me a vinyl of the Lab Band which immediately helped me know where I wanted to attend college. And that led to my spending four very important years studying with John Haynie, who would give me so much and like my earlier teachers have a great impact on my life and my career – first as a teacher, now my friend.

It seems that most of my life has gone that way – how I came to be on the Kenton Band and later the Herman Band; my decision to go to NYC and my meeting and becoming close friends with the great trumpeter Ernie Royal my first day in town; how I subbed on the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis jazz Orchestra one week after arriving in New York, that leading to a seven year association with the band. It was my good fortune that this led to a long career in the studios and my becoming firmly established in NYC.

In the summer of 1971, while living in the home of the legendary trumpeter Mannie Klein, a friend called to say she had someone she thought I would like to meet. This casual event would lead me to marry, eventually having a family and a home with the woman who would be the axis around which all our family revolves. Again, just plain luck!

The demise of studio work in New York, which seemed at the time to have been a bad turn of fortune, led me to return to a career playing Jazz again, being able to work with the great musicians whom I choose. It also is my good fortune to have a family that affords me the freedom to travel all over the world, playing the music I love and living the life I want without recrimination or unwanted baggage.

With all this, I must mention that – along with great good fortune – everyone needs support, and I have had more than my share. At every stage of my life, people have been there for me. My family always supported me - through good times and bad. My teachers, mentors and my friends have contributed so much in so many ways, and I owe them all a great deal. Regardless of how much talent or ability one possesses, we all need help. Maybe we aren’t as aware of this as we should be, but help from others, in my life and career, has been vital, indispensable! Without them, I would have been nothing; I only hope that I have let them know how grateful I am.

So what is the lesson in all this? I’m not sure I know. But I do know how lucky I am to have had these “life experiences,” each unplanned, occurring because I was in the right place at the right time. Yes, I have worked hard and continue working to develop whatever talent I possess, and I am sure that my own decisions played some part in all that has happened for me. But though a person can have trained well and be prepared, they can never know when an opportunity will arise; it will probably appear out of nowhere for no apparent reason. And that’s just plain luck!
 
 

Every Jazz musician has deep personal feelings why he or she has chosen to play this music. For me, playing Jazz provides a musical and personal fulfillment that nothing else satisfies; it occasions such a strong desire within me to play that it could almost be described as an addiction. It also produces in the serious player a life-long quest for greater refinement of their art, a constant seeking to play better and more creatively. It is a life-long task, a goal one seeks, but never seems to fully attain; hence the continuing search. And, while all of us look for different things in the music, most of us seem never to tire of the journey.

The formation of one’s musical attitudes stems from the many musicians one has experienced over the period of their playing career. I have been extremely fortunate to work with many fine artists during my years of playing, and – for me - Ed Soph is one of the most creative of these. Ed and I have worked in various groups together for a number of years and have developed a strong musical and personal relationship. And, while there are many great drummers playing this music today, I feel that Ed is one of the most musically adventurous, always playing with intensity and fire, yet most sensitive when the music begs it. He has developed his own individual approach, a musical style that is unique in this genre, and I truly love playing with him. This musical experience is, for me, always one of adventure, always harboring the unexpected. Ed’s playing urges me to attempt new things, play more audaciously and to move in different directions. This is most thrilling for me, what I most love to do.

Ed and I work together in the quartet that includes Bill Mays and Rufus Reid, and he also performs with me with symphony orchestras and big bands. But whatever the style, his musical taste and his creativity are always what the setting calls for. His “sense of history” of the music is incredible, and he always allows it to guide his approach to whatever the music calls for.

How does one reach this level of mastery? How are their instinct and intuition developed? Ed’s story exemplifies to me how most musicians – with variations - come to this music and learn to “play Jazz.” In his own words:

“I was born March 21, 1945 in Coronado, CA, where my father was stationed in the Navy. The family moved to Tulsa, OK when I was less than a year old. There was a lot of music in the house, my father being both a jazz record collector and a recreational ragtime pianist. One day, when I was five, he brought a woodblock and a pair of sticks home and gave them to me. I’d sit on the floor, he would tap the tempo on my head, and I’d play along with Louis Armstrong, Sidney Bechet, Bunk Johnson, and Jelly Roll 78’s. My father would play his Joplin and Turpin pieces on the piano and I’d accompany him with frequent remonstrances that I was too loud.

My father took me to Black tent revivals and I vividly remember the incredible rhythmic and emotional power of those events. He took me to hear a local traditional jazz band led by a wonderful cornetist named Matt McCorkadale.

One day my father brought a Charlie Parker record home, one of those red 10” records. I expressed my dislike and asked that he put Armstrong on the turntable. (At the age of 6, I was a “moldy fig”.) But the Parker recording was played, often while we sat at dinner, and I soon found myself enjoying the music. I was drawn to jazz by the melodies and the rhythmic energy.

My family gave me a historical and stylistic background. What kids have to go to college for today, unless they are lucky as I was. I grew up with the music thanks to my mother and father.

We moved to Houston when I was 8. I continued piano lessons (Begun in Tulsa.) and continued to play along with recordings on an actual snare drum. I fashioned a cymbal out of a discarded hub cap. I was swingin’!

At age 12 I began snare lessons with a wonderful man and musician named Elder Mori. He was an accordionist, but also played vibes and drums. He was an inspiring teacher. My father took me to clubs and I heard Horace Silver, Dizzy, and local players like Arnett Cobb, Don Wilkerson, and Jimmy Ford. I learned so much from listening to Duke Barker, the first call jazz drummer in Houston at the time. He was a supremely melodic player with a beautiful touch. He was very nice to me.

When I was 14 or 15 I joined the All City Symphony Orchestra, a high school orchestra led by an incredible musician and teacher, Harry Lantz. What passion that man had for the music and what high standards he held us to. The orchestra was so good that both Stokowski and Sir Malcolm Sargeant came out to rehearse us. I played timpani and learned all about form, intonation, dynamics, and time. Mr. David Wuliger, timpanist in the Houston Symphony, was my timpani teacher. I continued my studies with Mr. Mori, too.

My grandfather bought me a drum set when I was 14, and I really started playing with those records. There’s nothing like playing in front of a weak ‘Hi-Fi’ system to develop one’s touch and dynamic sensibilities! A fine local jazz drummer, Dave Barry, came to the house and showed me some things. These get-togethers were my first drum set lessons. Dave was a very generous person.

Dave worked with Jimmy Ford on Sunday afternoons at a club called The Little Jazz Bird. My father and I went to hear the group and Dave asked me if I’d like to sit-in. I almost died on the spot. My father whispered to me, ‘If you don’t get up and play you’ll never see your drums again.’ I was about 15. Well, I got up and played and after the dust had cleared Dave came over, said he was soon to move to another city, and wanted to know if I’d like to have the Sunday gig. So, thanks to Dave, I entered the best school I’ve ever attended. My teachers for the next 3 years were Jimmy Ford, Arnett Cobb, Roy Velasquez, Rene Sandoval, Allen Clark, Gilbert Martinez, Don Wilkerson, and George Irwin.

In 1963 I went to North Texas (the University of North Texas now) and had another great education thanks to Leon Breeden and fellow students like Gary Peyton, Billy Harper, Lou Marini, Bill Stapleton, Bob Morgan, Mike Lawrence, John Monaghan, Bill Farmer, and John Wilmeth. In the summer of ‘63 I went on the road with the Glenn Miller Orchestra under Ray McKinley, a new school. I lasted a week and Mac told me to go back to North Texas and continue my studies with the great drummer and inspiring teacher, Tommy Gwin. I did, and the following summer found me on tour with Stan Kenton, another great man and teacher.

I graduated in 1968 and promptly joined Woody Herman thanks to a recommendation from Cannonball Adderley. My stint with Woody was interrupted by my obligation to fulfill my military service. I petitioned for and received a conscientious objector status and worked at the Wiltwyck School for Boys in Yorktown Heights, NY. I made sessions in the city and played a few gigs including spending vacation time recording with Woody. But most of my time was spent as child care worker for emotionally disturbed kids from the ghettoes of the city. Another education!

I finished my service in ‘71 and returned to Texas long enough to realize that I didn’t want to be there. Back in New York, I played with Lee Konitz’ nonette at Stryker’s, Bill Evans, Bill Watrous, and Clark Terry, who gave me steady employment and the opportunity to play some wonderful music for eight years. I still went out with Woody when he was between drummers. I had begun doing the Aebersold Jazz Workshops and National Stage Band Camps in 1971 and that aspect of my musical life continued to grow. I enjoy teaching.

In the twenty years that I was on the East Coast the business really changed. The least desirable gig, a Broadway show, became one of the most coveted. All the little mid town demo studios disappeared with the advent of drum machines and synthesizers. The "jazz scale", however, remained as humbling as ever while the cost of everything else went up and up.

I returned to North Texas in 1987 and am now an Associate Professor of Music. I'm thankful that I can share the experiences of forty years and counting of music-making.”

A final note - though Ed is a full time faculty member at North Texas, he continues to maintain a busy performance schedule as well.

Like most people, the holidays and year’s end evoke thoughts of what has passed and what lies ahead. For me it also conjures up thoughts about many things that have deep meaning to my life – family and friends, my teachers, music and more. But in the last year and a half, we’ve all experienced events such as we never have before, leaving many of us feeling adrift. Here are some of my thoughts:

We live in unsettling times, and for most, our lives have been greatly affected by what is taking place here and around the world. Our lives have been changed forever by “9/11” and the ensuing circumstances that have left the majority of us feeling insecure. One feels great uncertainty where all this is leading. Beyond the fears of the War on Terrorism or what may happen in Iraq, there are other issues that impact us on a personal basis – that is - our relating to each other as human beings.

Many of us who have been around a while remember a “kinder, gentler time” when people were more sensitive, more considerate of others. Our society was more of a “we” thing than a “me” thing. Much of that has changed as it seems the pendulum, the last 25 years or so, has swung to the other extreme. I feel there has been an obvious, steep decline in people’s sensitivity toward or caring about others, and it leaves me wondering about where, as people, we are going.

Those of us living through the period from the Korean War to today, have seen good times and bad, but, in my memory nothing like these recent crises. Scandals at companies like Enron, Tyco and WorldCom where employees and stockholders were blatantly lied to by executives of those companies led subsequently to their losing everything for which they worked and saved for years. The lives of these unfortunate people were left in ruin because of the greed of these executives. This is a prime example of the worst in us. Others have experienced dire personal circumstances due to these and the changes “9/11” wrought to the economy, resulting in the loss of employment for thousands. This is not a small thing.  For many younger people, this is their first experience with such a situation.

Yet, in the past we have seen people many times rise to the occasion, and I believe that we will see this again. Still, we must be aware - like the saying goes, we must work at “being the best we can be.” We saw people pulling together after “9/11,” helping those less fortunate than ourselves, something many who grew up when I did remember as “the norm”- not the exception. But what we saw the firemen in New York do on 9/11 was an example of humanity most of us have never seen or experienced, and this exemplifies the best in the human spirit, Maybe we can all take a small page out of that book; maybe the pendulum will begin to swing back again. I deeply believe in that!