Phil Woods: Interview 2

Well, Phil, it's great to welcome you back to Britain again—particularly since you're here with your own group this time. This is actually the first tour you've ever done here, isn't it?

Nice to be back. Thank you, Les. Yeah, it's the first English tour in my whole life. When I first came over, with Monk, we only played London, and I did the Odeon, Hammersmith with Michel Legrand one time. The European Rhythm Machine never toured here; Ronnie Scott's was it—we never even did a concert here! So it's the first time I've seen Birmingham and Manchester, and I'm going to see Liverpool—isn't that exciting? It's a good audience out there; we've had excellent receptions so far. We also did the Cork Festival, up in Ireland—that was very pleasant.

Of course, this group now is what, five years old?

Seven. It'll be seven in March. Same personnel—some kind of record these days. It's a family—absolutely. Yes, we added a guitarist on the "Live At The Showboat" album—but normally it's a quartet. Mike Melillo on piano, Steve Gilmore on bass, Bill Goodwin on drums, and myself—this is the working group.

Mike Melillo was previously known to you, wasn't he?

I worked with Mike way back in I the late 'fifties—although it's all a bit of a blur. He had a rhythm section at a venue in New Jersey Clifton Taproom—where everybody used to play; they'd bring in soloists, you know. Actually, the group began at Mike's house. When I moved from California to New York, I stayed at Bill Goodwin's house in Pennsylvania; we went over to have a bit of a blow at Mike's place. Steve was with us too, and it just sort of happened—not by design or anything Groups always seem to begin like that; whether you're working or not, you've still got to play. That's the way these guys feel, and I felt right at home with that kind of philosophy. And it's been real good for us.

Do you feel that the live albums you've made represent what the group does in a live situation?

Absolutely—specially the new one. The Clean Cuts one was done live at Austin, Texas. Volume One is out, and Volume Two will be out soon—you'll probably get it here about 1990! It's a small label; it's no reflection on records here—small labels have trouble with distribution, as you know. It will be imported, I imagine.

As an alto enthusiast, it has been quite gratifying to see, in recent years, an upsurge of popularity for the instrument—and I'd say you have a great deal to do with that.

Well, I think the tenor players have been getting all the girls long enough—it's time for E flat! Yeah, I've noticed that; as a voice, it's probably used a lot more even in pop music than it was—it was mostly tenor before: You do hear a lot of alto now. There are a lot of young alto players coming up, I know that—some fine, fine young players in the States. So I think the tradition is in pretty good hands. I'm especially taken with Eric Kloess's work; well, he's not a kid, but he's just playing marvellous, wonderful. He's a blind alto player from Pittsburgh, who has now settled in New Jersey. A very important voice on the alto, in my opinion. Richie Cole is doing fine: also Mark Friedman, Mark Kirk, and Dan Higgins, who plays with the Toshiko/ Tabackin band. Oh, gee, there's about ten or fifteen young players—can't just name 'em off the top of my head, but I meet 'em all across the country.

It's also been good to note the commercial exposure you've been receiving—such as on Billy Joel's hit, "Just The Way You Are".

My creditors love it. Sure, that didn't hurt anything—it did bring my voice to a lot of people who wouldn't have heard it. Absolutely. But I've done three or four sessions like that in the past five years—it occupies a very small part of my musical career, you know. It really hasn't affected anything—not as far as the group is concerned. We've been on the road for seven years, and we've been playing for a hundred, two hundred, three hundred people thirty—five weeks a year, in small joints all over America, all over the world, and we've built an audience ourselves. I think we might get a few people off the street—but we don't push that in our advertising; we don't use any of that material. Occasionally you get some young people in; they like what they hear, and hopefully they'll buy the records, and we can add them to our fans.

Actually, any support we've had we've done it through very hard work, as a group. . you build it one night at a time. We're doing all right; we're not home yet, but we're getting there. The tours are starting to make a little more sense, the money's starting to get a little better. And the new record is certainly the most representative; it's just the pure quartet, in a live concert situation. Our drummer Bill Goodwin produced it; we've sort of taken the reins of the quartet within the group—we all have a responsibility to it, and share in the profits. The Billy Joel hit bought him his yacht; this group keeps gasoline in my Fiat.

That was a typical solo of yours on there, though; you didn't dilute it at all in that context.

Oh, yes—I do a very good Phil Woods imitation!

As do some others. A fairly recent work of yours that I enjoyed very much was the "I Remember" album, made over here, containing your orchestral tributes to some deceased jazz friends.

I never got paid for that. Since that was done, I've had nothing but legal problems. So, because of legal entanglements, I'd rather not talk about that —I'd rather talk about the new album. That's the past, man. It's a good record and I'm quite proud of the music, but, as I say, I'm more interested in going forward than reliving. the past, as it were. Sure I'd like to do something like that again, incorporating the group. But right now the main thrust is just to travel as a quartet, and do what we're doing. I've no immediate plans in that direction—I've had enough of large formations, really. Of course, I like to write; I'm always trying to create something—don't get a chance too much.

I've read a review of an album by the New York Saxophone Quartet; it includes a piece of yours called "Three Improvisations". The reviewer is Paul Harvey, of the London Saxophone Quartet—you met him when he came to the States not long ago.

Yes, I did. That's an old piece; back in the 'fifties that quartet was written, I think—it was just finally published. It's now available, in case any young students or young quartets want to try it. As the music from "I Remember" has been published.

You do, in fact, occupy some of your time in the colleges with saxophone symposium —type things?

Not symposiums—improvisational workshops. And I have some private students—not many, but a few. That's part of my life; I've always shared my knowledge with people. It's not so much of my income as it used to be, when I wasn't working at all—it paid the rent for a while, in the lean times. Like, a lot of musicians teach because there's not enough work around. Right now I don't have time to teach; I'm not complaining about it. But I do keep a few special students, that I see three, four or five times a year, maybe. They're more or less in the biz, you know; I can't really teach them anything—we kind of just get together, talk, share ideas and pass on information. I learn from them; it's a kind of a two—way street.

Do you have some interest in the classical saxophone quartet concept?

None at all. I'm a jazz musician—I've nothing to do with those other guys.

But you're involved with them musically sometimes, when you record.

Oh, I don't do that much recording, Les. I'm not in the studios at all; I haven't been in the studio in years. The last thing I did was with the London Symphony orchestra——did you get that over here? "An American Concerto"? No? With the LSO, on Columbia—you didn't get that? No kidding.

This is a concerto of yours?

It's a Pat Williams piece—it was I done last year, as a matter of fact "American Concerto For Jazz Quartet And Orchestra". It features the LSO, with Grady Tate on drums, Chuck Domanico on bass, Dave Grusin on piano, and myself.

That was when the quartet was on a break. It's pretty much wall—to—wall alto saxophone. I'm surprised it's not out here—it's with a local band!

Well, there's one I'd like to have. I haven't seen it about anywhere, or heard of it till now. Maybe it's only been released in the States. Another thing I've been looking out for. . . when I interviewed the late Joe Venuti, in July '77, he told me he'd very much enjoyed making an album with you.

Oh, we recorded at the Gibson Jazz Party, yeah—I don't think it's out yet though. It's a jam session. No, it wasn't in the studio, unfortunately. We were good friends. I don't think you'll see that; I know it's recorded—whether they sell the tapes or not is another matter. If they did, it would be on some obscure label anyway. One of those things.

The last time we talked—also in July '77—we didn't happen to get on to the subject of the soprano, which you use occasionally. . .

Not any more—I turned it into a lamp. No, I used it when we had the guitar—it seemed to add a nice colour. Well, I'm getting lazy, I guess, but I don't think it fits with the present quartet format so well. With a guitar, we had more of a front—line, and the registration and such seemed to lend itself to a tune or two a night on the soprano. I never considered myself a full soprano player; well, there's not that many, anyway. It's sort of a novelty instrument—always will be, I think. You know, nobody just plays that. So I hung up the old soprano; I might take it on again for special projects. On this album that's going to be released in Japan I play some soprano—that's with the quartet and a synthesiser, played by a man named Chris Swansen; the album's called "Crazy Horse". Yes, Chris is a trombone player; he conducted "Round Trip". A very good buddy of mine; he did all the writing on that, and all the synthesiser work—I'm very excited about that. But that's the last time I played soprano—a good year or more ago.

In latter years, I've had mixed feelings about that instrument. To my mind, it's been misused by a lot of Coltrane disciples. Rather than that shrill sound, it should have a warm quality. The only people who have redeemed the soprano for me have been musicians renowned on another saxophone—yourself, Zoot, Gerry Mulligan. That kind of soprano playing I can enjoy.

Mm—hm? Well, I like Zoot's work very much—I think he has the best sound of anybody.

When both you and Zoot play the soprano, you just transfer the approaches you have on the alto or the tenor; you don't try to do something wildly different on it. Make music, hopefully. And try to stay in tune—that's half the battle.

And, needless to say, I suppose the clarinet is long gone in your life.

Yes, the clarinet is. . . well, no, not long gone—as I say, for special projects. But I was never considered a doubler—it's hard enough to play one properly, you know. It just becomes too much of a scuffle. Plus they get heavier every year—people keep putting bricks in the cases. I haven't played it in years—don't even own one.

I was intrigued when I saw Art Pepper with one, when he was here, although I never heard him play it.

In that case. . . Art and I have I talked about trying to do an album together; it hasn't come to fruition yet, but I think we both should play clarinet on one of the tunes. I'd like to. It's far from realisation, but it's an idea I have in such a case, I would get it out, dust it off, oil it up and see what happens. I think that might be fun.

Yes, Al and Zoot did that once on an album track.

Right. "Twin Funkies", or whatever it was called.

The idea of you and Art joining up for an album is inevitable, really.

Quite logical, isn't it? It's in the talking stage still—but we'll get it together. No problem musically—just the business aspect.

Obviously, it's been a heartening thing for you, to see Art get back on top, the way he is now.

Oh, it's marvellous. I'm very pleased for him. He's always been one of my favourite jazz alto players. It's nice to see him back on the scene.

Another all—time favourite of mine as Bud Shank. To me, the ultimate thing would be if the three of you got together.

That might be a little harder to do. Like three wailing banshees! One at a time.

What are your feelings, generally, about the way jazz is going? Do you think things are healthier, as far as its acceptance is concerned—or is it still as much of a minority music as it ever was?

It's better in the States—I don't I know as much about the rest of the world. Oh, it'll always be a minority music; it's not meant to be a pop music—you're never going to hear it on landings and take—offs, unless it slips in by accident. It's not what jazz is all about. But there's a very healthy support for it in the States, with the young people, thank God. Those of college age and in their twenties are getting turned on to the music that our group plays—the form and structure and all that. I think that avant garde has sort of come to a halt. Well, not a halt, but I think they've found that it's sort of a one—way street. It had to be said—but I've talked to quite a few players who are. . returning to traditional values, if you like—at the risk of sounding like an old fuddy—duddy. There's still a lot to be said with form, structure and tonality; in fact, perhaps there's more freedom there—and I think they're discovering this. Once you have total freedom, it's not really free. This is not really a chord on the piano, and any damn fool can do it; it might sound great for an effect, but you can't make a career out of it.

And animal noises aren't really constructive on a saxophone.

They're no more than part of the palette. I mean, I like to growl and make sounds too, but if I did it all night long, I'd bore myself and the audience, I'm sure it's not my thing. There are some players who do it very well, and I enjoy it, but as a steady diet. . I like to have a broader palette. Take some of this and some of that, something borrowed, something blue—you know, contrast is essential to the music. And all too often that isn't taken into consideration. Like just what key you play in makes sure your structure is set so you hit different tonalities. Even though the lay listener might not be aware of it, there is a psychological thing; just staying in one drone, one sort of continual barrage—it's fatiguing. Just by changing textures, tempos and tonalities, it does have a psychological effect on people—it adds to the enjoyment of the music, hopefully. I think these values will always be with us—you can't throw them out.

Well, the object of the exercise surely is to communicate with the people, rather than to turn them off and drive them out.

Yeah, specially if they've paid five or six quid to come in and hear you—sure. Well, you don't want to pander to an audience; you do your thing and hope that if they have paid their five or six quid they're coming to hear what that particular group does, that they bought the ticket for. So some people enjoy being hit over the head for three hours—fine; it's certainly a big enough world to accommodate everybody's taste. I just think it's kind of a little heavy on that side. And I don't know whether you realise it, but my quartet always plays acoustic; we're one of the few groups that does not use microphones any more.

You don't use microphones at all?

Not at all—just a bass amp. That's been so for a couple of years now. Well, I mean, on rare occasions, when we appear at large venues—if you're outdoors, or in a five—thousand—seat hall—of course, we use microphones then. But whenever possible, we don't—and I'd say that's about ninety—five per cent of the time. People get a little nervous, because they're so used to it—people producing it, the sound men and all that—but this group can do it. The key is in the drummer's attitude too—Bill Goodwin is a musical drummer.

In many cases, volume seems to be used as a means of forcing the audience to listen, regardless of the musical content.

I agree. It's hard to be heard I with a soft voice, but I think the words can be just as important.

When I'm warming up before a performance, I have to say: "Don't fai1 me, reed." I think pollution has taken its final toll——they can't even make bamboo any more. The hassles are getting worse——I don't know whether it's me or the wood. It's harder to find a good one now. You get one out of a box, you know, and you pay eight.

So Mike Melillo plays only the acoustic piano?

Only the acoustic. No, we never use the electric piano—for a couple of special projects perhaps, but essentially it's an acoustic quartet. Just like it was in the brothels.

Do you not approve of attachments to the saxophone, then?

Oh, they have their place—but not with the quartet when it's on tour, or working. For recording projects, yes. On the "Crazy Horse" project, we used all kinds of devices—but, hopefully, in a musical way. As contrast, once again. No, I have nothing against the use of electronics. I'm against the abuse of electronics—just turning the bloody thing on for no apparent reason. It must be a special project, that calls for a such a thing, but I'm not gun—shy at all about it.

You've been in jazz for a good many years now. Do you feel happy about the way career has gone, or do you have any regrets?

Thirty—three years, last I counted. I'm having a pretty good time. No—no regrets at all. When I was a young man, I wanted to be a jazz saxophone player—some day I hope to be one ! No, I think I'm very lucky, to be doing the work that I love to do and to be paid for it. In this world, a lot of people are very unhappy with the work they do. Oh, there's a few minor little things that I would like to re—do, but nothing so severe that it weighs heavily on me—a few peccadilloes in my youth.

You don't come up against musical frustrations nowadays?

No, I don't—I feel fairly at peace with myself, about what I do. I enjoy my family, enjoy the band, enjoy touring, as difficult as it is. Everything seems to be going okay so far.

There was a time when you settled down and didn't tour. Did you miss touring at that time, and have you been glad to get back to it since?

You always miss playing for people; I got tired of not doing that —. you've got to have people. I enjoy where I'm at right now, absolutely.

You had a spell away from the States; are you content with the environment there now?

It's definitely on the up—swing. It's not perfect—but we're working, and we have an audience. What more can one ask for? Right now, I'm in the process of trying to secure my copyrights and get all the publishing details sorted out. That's going to take some time. If I have any regrets, it's my stupidity in the business sense, not in the musical sense—but we're all rather fools when it comes to that. But now it's time to sort it out; once that's taken care of, I think I'll really rest easy.

The great thing is to have control of your own destiny, and to stop having producers tell you what to do, and record companies tell you that you don t sell—I've just had it with all that nonsense.

You're your own manager, in fact, are you?

Well, we have a booking agent—but not a manager, no. No don't need one. Don't need a sound man, either!

In general, what are your thoughts on the future?

More travelling with the band. I've no dreams of grandeur. Well, I'm not going to stay on the road for ever, but for the next foreseeable five to ten years. I'll do more writing, and maybe a little less touring—spend more time at home. More time writing and teaching perhaps, but always touring—hopefully, not quite such a heavy schedule—ta be able to make the same the same amount of money without working so hard ! I want to give more time to the creative juices, certainly; it's pretty hard to wxjle from a hotel room. And tours get a little lonely—I miss my family, miss my old lady, that kind of thing—but that s part of the turf; no complaints.

Eventually, I'll scale it down I'm not twenty—four years old any more—I want to take care of myself, live to a nice ripe old age, and hopefully be a contributor for a long time.

Anything special coming up in the recording field?

Yes, the new project with the synthesiser; we're in the middle of that. And I've applied for a grant; I want to write, a piece for orchestra and alto. So one day I want to have a jazz Summer School—you know, modest dreams, but I think realisable, with some time and a bit of effort; the way it's going, I think it's going to be okay. That's what I would like to do, when I finish touring; I'd like to stay active in jazz, and through teaching is really the best. And writing—that one can do without strain. But now, I'm having a ball. I love playing for people, and I ain't gonna stop.

Are you maintaining the five—piece group that you brought to London last year?

Yes, this is the steady group. We're keeping very busy. Steve Gilmore on bass and Bill Goodwin on drums have been with me for a good many years, of course; our piano player Hal Galper is into his sixth year now with us; and we have the wonderful Tom Harrell on trumpet—he's been with us about four years. When we get good ones, we hold on to them, if we can.

About seven years ago, during an interview, we were discussing the clarinet, and I recalled that you had played it at times in the past. A year or so after that I was gratified to hear you using it to excellent effect on certain tracks in three consecutive albums. It now seems to have become your regular double with the alto.

Well it takes the smile right off the rhythm section's face! I'd always planned to get back to it. Of course, when we had the group with Harry Leahey on guitar, the soprano lent itself better; so I was concentrating on that as a double for some tunes. But now the clarinet seems to work well, because we're doing a lot of Duke's stuff, with the trumpet in mute, the clarinet and nicely compatible rhythm section—we're getting some nice colours. It broadens the palette. The soprano is a little too brash; it for a different kind of band and a different kind of music than we're playing right now. So I'm having a good time with it. As long as I get one tune a set out of it, anyway, for a change of colour, that's enough. I consider myself an alto player—clarinet is not my major. I can get by on it, but I couldn't sustain a set with it. A tune on it, around the middle, just breaks it up. Or as part of some of the ensembles that we're doing, such as Duke Ellington's "Heaven", on which I have the arco bass with the trumpet and clarinet—but just as an ensemble thing; I don't improvise on it. It's working out well. I'm happy to give it a whack.

What have you been doing recording—wise lately?

We have a record out on Black Hawk, which is Herb Wong's new label—the album's called "Heaven". The only other record we have that shows the Quintet is the double album from Italy—which is hard to find in the States. It's called "Integrity"; I think I've seen it over here. But the "Heaven" album is our first bona fide release; hopefully, with some promotion, they'll be able to find it. As I say, it's the only example of the Quintet in action that's out in the States. And we're going to be getting into king compact discs; then we eventually have to deal with some type of video project—all to be determined later. Right now, we're just trying to keep it going.

I've been at performances of yours where you didn't use amplification. What are your present thoughts on this subject?

It depends on the music—and on the venue. We don't use 'em in clubs; if I can't get my sound to go twenty—five feet from the bandstand, it's time to hang up the horn. And, of course, it's the co—operation of the rhythm section—you have to have the compatibility of all the players to make it work. But I believe the audience is quieter, and I think the music is clearer and louder—at least, the music we're playing. I wouldn't recommend it for everybody out there with an instrument to throw away microphones although it's not a bad idea, actually! Specially for the singers! No—I think it works, because what you see is what you get. When you look at the guys playing, the sound is actually coming out of them, you know—I mean, you're getting it direct from the source. For this kind of music, it works well.

Well, when you think about performing ... it's supposed to be projecting the sound to the people. That's what we're all about. Occasionally we'll have to enhance the piano a bit—but very rarely.

On the subject of the saxophone today: it seems to be quite a charismatic instrument now, with a lot of young musicians playing it. But do you find sufficient variety in their approaches?

I'll tell you—I stay on the road so much, I don't get a chance to listen to too much. I mean, I know there's some very fine players out there, as far as the saxophone ... I think it's in some good hands; some good young players—they keep coming into New York, as they always did. No—no problems there.

At one time, the spate of Coltrane disciples seemed to be unending ...

Yes, that was maybe ten years ago, but I think it's broadened a bit now—I like to think so, anyway. To survive in the music business, they had to get beyond just doing that. Now, we have great people like Dave Liebman, Mike Brecker, Dick Oates, Eric Kloss, Ronnie Cuber. Al Cohn is still out there sounding beautiful; I heard him the other night—louder, better, hotter, if possible. Like a fine wine.

Do you get into other things, away from the small group field, these days?

Very rarely. No the Quintet keeps me hopping. I have no plans for studio work, certainly—I did enough of that.

I was wondering if you'd done anything like that two—alto session with Richie Cole.

When I was a guest on his album eight years ago, you mean. Well, I did an album recently with Conte Candoli, called "Old Acquaintance". It was his album, and I was a guest. Things like that? I thought you meant with large formations.

That one was about it, I guess, for other appearances. Well—there was the Kurt Weill album; I had my one track—the Carla Bley arrangement of "Lost In The Stars". But that's a couple of years back. Lately, I've just been concentrating on the Quintet.

A few years ago you were doing quite a bit of writing. You wrote for some big band things that you recorded in London, on an LP called "I Remember" ...

Well, I'm always writing, in a sense—but I'm not doing anything like that. Not at the moment. The only writing I do would be just within the Quintet—charts for the group, yes. Or tunes that I compose.

How do you find the general jazz playing scene in the States at present? We hear, for instance, that some clubs have closed.

New York seems to be swinging, I must say. I think there's a resurgence of interest now. We're staying busy, anyway. I'd say we do about half—and—half clubs and concerts. And when we do clubs it's as a concert situation usually. That's what we've been doing on the Continent too. Even though the venues have been clubs, they've been treating it as a concert—not so much as a night—club appearance. So it's been very gratifying, in that sense, and the attendance has been first—rate—as it has been in New York.

Another album you played on, that I enjoyed very much, was Patrick Williams' "An American Concerto", with the London Symphony Orchestra supporting your jazz solos. That was in 1980, and it followed the orchestral showcases written for you by Michel Legrand and others in the late 'seventies.

It was in the same bag. basically, yeah. I did those four or five albums with large formations, and kind of got it out of my system. It was nice, and at that time it was economically feasible. Now it's no longer possible—it's too expensive, and people aren't buying that kind of record these days.

As for your live engagements in Britain, I sincerely hope they will be more frequent. That week in Ronnie's last June came after far too long a break.

I'd have loved to have stayed a further week, because business was so good. But right—it was thirteen or fourteen years since the time before. I only ever worked there with the European Rhythm Machine—and that would have to be '72 or something. I sat in there once with Zoot, and had a great time, but that was twelve years ago. Yes, he's a tremendous loss to jazz. Well, I think we're likely to be in there before another twelve years pass.

Copyright © Les Tomkins 1981. All Right Reserved.