In many ways, the life of a jazz musician is similar to the rest of us working stiffs. We start our careers ready to change the world, and somewhere along the path, we look back and wonder if the world changed us. At that point, at what we Americans call our “mid life crisis,” we evaluate how far we’ve come, and either lean towards resignation, or try to inspire ourselves to make something new and better of ourselves. It is the decisions at this juncture that separate the victors from the also rans.
Back in the 90s, tenor saxist Josh Redman was the “next new thing” on the jazz scene. In his early twenties, he put out a slew of inspiring and relevant small band releases that drew both critical praise and commercial approval. As what happens to all media darlings, Redman’s star eventually got replaced by some new up and coming face. Inspired by the challenge, he formed the SF Collective, a semi-big band that featured all stars like Bobby Hutcherson, Nicholas Payton, Brian Blade and Miguel Zenon with complex arrangements by Gil Goldstein. This band out a pair of sophisticated and intricate releases that were played before packed arenas before Redman turned the reins over to Joe Lovano and Dave Douglas 2 years ago. Since then, he’s been intrigued by the spaciousness of the jazz trio, which with either a B3 or bassist along with a drummer.
Listening to Redman go from a big band to trio context, one has to wonder if he felt constrained by the larger, more arranged ensemble, and just needed to bust out into open space. “That’s not an incorrect interpretation,” he smiles, as he prepares to tour with his trio/double trio in support of his new release “Compass” with compatriots Larry Grenadier/b, Reuben Rogers/b, Brian Blade/b and Gregory Hutchinson/b. Explaining the difference between the formats, Redman states, “Both are intriguing in different ways. I think the smaller the ensemble, the more freedom you have in the moment to shape the music and go wherever you want to go. The more musicians you have, the more lines of communication there are to manage. And, the more musicians you have, the more potential for clutter, people stepping on each other’s toes musically, the more there is a prescribed and defined musical role. I think that in smaller ensembles, you have more individual freedom within the ensemble. As a group, you have more freedom to kind of turn on a dime. With a trio, you’ve got a lot of the elements, but no more than you need. People say that the piano trio is the ideal format, because you’ve got your rhythm with the drums, you’ve got the harmony in the piano, and the bass holding it all together. You could argue with the saxophone quartet, because it’s nice to have a harmonic instrument. But that’s what I like about the (sax) trio, that’s one of the things I really like. It’s really exciting and challenging to play in a situation where there is no dedicated harmonic instrument.”
On “Compass”, Redman expands his vision of the sax trio by mixing and matching bassists and drummers, at times performing with all four musicians. Trying to veer through such instrumentation is a daunting task, to say the least. Does the title refer to his need to steer through such challenging seas? Redman explains, “The compass that I’m referring to in the album is more of my playing with the imagery of a journey. In particular, this project was kind of a departure for me in certain ways. Perhaps most importantly in terms of the instrumentation and kind of recording situation that I or any of the other musicians had any experience in. Having two bass players and drummers at the same time. There was definitely a sense of adventure and embarking into (at the risk of sounding cheesy) The Unknown. So, The Compass is trying to capture that imagery and capture the sense of our own navigation. Using our own instincts, ears and shared musical vision to help orient ourselves and navigate ourselves through this musical landscape that was, for us, uncharted and not familiar.”
Just like going on a journey, the question that comes to mind in preparation for such a task is one we as ourselves in our own projects: Is it better to select people that your are friends with, or people that, while “technically proficient” are not personally compatible with you? Redman answers unhesitatingly, “In terms of the projects in which I am the leader of, I am very uncomfortable where I don’t feel a personal connection or friendship with the people I am playing with. Some musicians can thrive under those circumstances; I can’t. That’s a general rule; with something like this project, not only did I have to feel that I had a great personal connection with each of these guys, and great respect for them, but I really couldn’t see myself doing it with anyone else. Maybe a few others, but these are my guys. I mean, of all of the drummers I’ve played with, without a doubt, Brian Blade and Gregory Hutchinson I’ve played with the most. And, they’re two of my best friends. The same with Larry (Grenadier) and Reuben (Rogers). Christian McBride I’ve also played with a lot, but they’re the three bass players I’ve played with the most. I think that a project like this, for me, I wouldn’t have even thought of even trying it if hadn’t been with the musicians I feel a connection with musically and personally.”
But, even with kindred spirits who happen to be some of the best musicians around, on an album like Compass that has interludes of interactive improvisation between up to 5 artists, how does one practice for something like this? “You don’t,” Redman replies. “The way I see it, your entire life as a jazz musician is a rehearsal for your next moment of spontaneity. You can’t “practice spontaneity.” Spontaneity is natural. Being spontaneous is not something you learn how to do; you need to unlearn other things. Like, I think our very nature is to act instinctively, to be spontaneous. But, we have all of these layers of inhibitions that we build up, and I think that a lot of spontaneity is just a matter of letting go of some of the things that we’ve learned. Obviously, in jazz, you’ve got this incredibly intellectual music, with a huge vocabulary that requires a lot of study going into it. You can’t just come into (playing) jazz never having listened to it, never having studied it, or its vocabulary, being raw, and saying, “Oh, I’m being spontaneous!” But, your experience as a musician prepares you. The more experience you have with other musicians, the more equipped you are for ‘spontaneity’.”
This is one of the advantages of having been around long enough to refine your craft. Few things can replace the wisdom of experience as each of us continues our path. Now having been around the block a few times, Redman uses his past, both good and bad, as a teacher, not a tormenter, “I’m almost 40. I don’t believe in regrets. That doesn’t mean that I never have them; they just don’t serve any purpose. So, when I have them, I try to get rid of them. What good does it do to regret something; you can’t change it! I mean, there are many things that I did in the past, whether they are musical or personal, that I wouldn’t do now. I mean, I can’t listen to a record that I’ve done where I don’t cringe. I am where I am now because of the path that I’ve taken. So, all I can do, from where I am now, is to try to chart the best course for myself. I have to take the path that takes the most sense.”
Along with his music and friends, Redman’s family has given him a stronger sense of direction and stimulation. The father of a three year old son, he explains how fatherhood has changed his approach to music, “it’s taught me to let go of the things that aren’t important. How to let go of the things that I can’t control, and in general how to let go of everything. Not in the sense of irresponsibility. It’s actually taught me the importance of responsibility. I never had to be this responsible before in my life. But how to attach so much importance to results, in the sense of trying to control a situation to produce a result that you want.”
“Every parent has this temptation, even if it’s subconscious. We think that our kids are “us.” But, they aren’t; they are their own person. The other thing is that it’s taught me, paradoxically, how music isn’t really “that” important. This is the first time in my life that I can honestly say that there is something more important in my life than music, at least since I’ve moved toNew Yorkand became a musician. So, I guess music has been downgraded in the priority list. But, by the same token, it makes me appreciate music all the more, so that when I do play it, and when I am ‘in Music’ and experiencing music as a listener or a player, I am that much more present and that much more engaged, so it is more meaningful.”
So, Redman, like all of us on our pilgrimage, has found the value of cherished friends in helping him continue his journey. He’s learned, as we all hopefully do, that faith, family and friends are the best Compasses for our navigation on this planet.