Terry Gibbs (born 1924)
Terry Gibbs is a jazz vibraphonist, percussionist and band leader. Along with Lionel Hampton, Red Norvo and Milt Jackson, Gibbs was one of the ‘Big Four’ early exponents of the vibraphone.
Born Julius Gubenko in Brooklyn, New York, his name was changed by a billing agency without consulting him. In his youth Gibbs played drums and his brother played xylophone. He would play his brother’s instrument when he was out of the house, even though under strict instructions not to touch it, and he took lessons from a local percussion teacher.
At 12 years old, Gibbs won a radio talent contest and at 16 started his professional career by going on the road with Judy Kayne. He joined the army at 18, spending his time as a stateside musician playing drums and writing music for Army movies and bond drives. Previously a lover of swing, while he was in the army he discovered bebop after hearing Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie.
He has written more than 300 songs, some recorded by Count Basie, Nat King Cole and others. He has played as a sideman for many who became famous in the bebop era including Parker, Gillespie, Miles Davis, Bud Powell, and Ella Fitzgerald.
Biography by John Rosie
Jazz-rock and me
In three interviews between 1963 and 1981, jazz vibraphone player and raconteur Terry Gibbs talks about his life and career. In this interview with Les Tomkins in 1981, Gibbs talks further about his big band and about jazz-rock fusion (and how it’s not for him).
Terry Gibbs: Interview 3
Image Details
| Interview date | 1st January 1981 |
|---|---|
| Interview source | Jazz Professional |
| Image source credit | |
| Image source URL | |
| Reference number | |
| Forename | Terry |
| Surname | Gibbs |
| Quantity | 3 |
Interview Transcription
My big band still keeps occupied in California, on TV or whatever, with one of those libraries that holds up and never stops swinging. And you won't believe how many young players, when they move to California, call me and tell me they know about the music of that band; so I've got a waiting list to play that book. Now, Frank Capp—he and Nat Pierce have their own band, called Juggernaut—has been my drummer for the last ten years.
If he had a job with his own band next Saturday, and I told him I had a job for my band that day, he'd cancel his jab, rather than have Nick Ceroli or one of the other drummers come in and play that book. He refuses to have anybody but him sound good on drums with my band. It's his band—he feels that way. In fact, all the guys do.
There's a trumpet player called John Audino, who is probably one of the busiest first–call brassmen in California, and is on the Tonight show with Doc Severinsen—he's my most loyal member. With all the work he does, he makes enough money to go home and relax; but if we have a job at night, he's there—and he doesn't wait for his money; I have to find him to give it to him. He's always the first to arrive on any jab, and he plays lead trumpet like it was more important than the Tonight show or anything else. It's a personal thing with anybody in that band; they all play not only for the band but for the guy sitting next to them. in fact, they're mad at me because I don't use the band as much as I get called to use it.
To start with, I want to do another album first with the band. So I'd have maybe ten new arrangements, but it would still be in that same vein, because I still don't think I would do a jazz–rock thing—that's not Terry Gibbs at all. You know, a while back, when jazz–rock started to make a lot of noise—this was before Buddy Rich started this band, and before Blood, Sweat And Tears came on the scene—I figured I'd put together something. So I got with Alan Broadbent—the guy who played piano and wrote for Woody's band—and I had a suite written for me on "Rhapsody In Blue". It had four trumpets and six rhythm; they were four great trumpets, who were all new in town at the time—Bobby Shew, Chuck Findley, Sal Marquez and Gary Grant. Joe Pass played guitar; Pete Christlieb played tenor. There was jazz–rock, Latin, a little of everything in the suite—Alan had written a great arrangement. But after I'd rehearsed it a few times, I realised that it wasn't me—it really had nothing to do with what I like. I don't mind somebody else playing some jazz–rock, but it's not my thing. That's not what my roots are—so I junked the whole thing. Even though it sounded great. I just wouldn't feel comfortable going on the stage and doing that. I know Buddy Rich's band plays a lot of jazz–rock, and he plays the heck out of it—but for how I play vibes, it doesn't fit. Maybe some day, if I get Bill Holman—because he's my favourite writer—to do something for me that wouldn't alienate me, I may do it.
If it's right, you know. That instrumentation maybe also threw me, because it was very rhythm–orientated—that's what rock was all about in those days, a lot of rhythm. But if I do it with my big band, and it's tasteful enough, then I'll do some of it—it can certainly swing. Very much so, if it's played right, by the right musicians. I'm not sure yet, though—I still like a good straight–ahead thing. I'm still learning how to play bebop; as I think Dizzy Gillespie said, it's not what you put in—it's what you leave out. I'm learning what to leave out to make it sound right.
Studio work? No, I don't do any studio work as a sideman. As a leader, I conduct shows. I'm a conductor on television shows—I learned how to do that well; I went and studied. You know what Telethons are? Where they try to collect moneys for charity causes, and you'll be on screen for twenty–four hours. Well, I've conducted eight of those, and what they normally do on those shows : it starts about ten o'clock, and you'll go to two o'clock with a big band; then they'll have a smaller group from two in the morning till ten, when the big band will come back with a different bandleader. I do the whole twenty–four hours by myself—and get stronger as I go along. I love the challenge.
I've been very fortunate, in that I've done a lot af things in the music business, and been rewarded very well for it financially. But more rewarding is that I've been accepted by audiences. There's no better feeling than people applauding for you when you do something good. When I get my shoes fixed, I don't applaud the shoemaker for what he's done—I just pay him. When I get on stage, and if somebody likes what I do, they show love. I think musicians are very lucky that way.
It's great to be back to playing more jazz now. Not that I gave it up, but I have a very comfortable job there conducting far Steve Allen on his TV show, and I got a little lazy for a while. What's also great is that there seems to be a general resurgence of straight–ahead jazz—I think people want some happiness again. And I know that in America the colleges have some young players now who are so good, they're scary. What is noticeable is that they look up to us—where before they were looking up to the rock musicians. Now they're looking up to the heavy professionals who've been playing well for many years. I get more calls to go out than I ever have, and I'm enjoying playing again a lot more.
Copyright © 1981, Les Tomkins. All Rights Reserved.
