Old-school master

Sax artist Dewey Redman made it all up as he went along

by Mark Edmonds

My recent interview with saxophonist Dewey Redman will be forever logged in my memory banks as one of coolest celebrity interrogations I've ever done. Not so much because Redman's a legend; hell, you talk to a lot of them in this business, and, at 66, Redman's no less of one than any other veteran post-war-era jazz player. His recordings as a band leader -- harking from his '66 debut Look for the Black Star (Arista) -- have all been celebrated explorations of the genre that have been as interesting to listen to as they are hard, stylistically, to nail down. (Redman likes to jump all over the place -- from the blues, to swing, to a bop-esque fusion that boils like a teapot.) Recorded sessions of his stints with jazz heavies -- everyone from Ornette Coleman to Keith Jarrett to Pat Metheny -- have shown him to be one of the most versatile saxophonists since Bird.

No, what made my interview with Redman (who will play Worcester, with a quartet, as part of the Foothills Theatre's Just Jazz series on May 20) memorable was it's substance. Like a lot of vets who came up the hard way, Redman doesn't mince words. Speaking by phone from the Flatbush apartment that's been his headquarters for more than 30 years, he covered everything from his thoughts on jazz's ongoing struggle to reinvent itself to it's over-commercialization in a no-holds-barred discussion that segued at some point into a discourse on young artists' philosophical dilemma: to invent new music or make money by cooking up commercial pap for the masses. Like many of his eclectic compositions, it was a roller coaster ride of sorts. But one I'm glad I took.

"First thing a lot of folks ask me is, am I Joshua Redman's father?" he begins with a quiet laugh. "It seems like now that's how I'm known. About 10 times a year someone comes up to me and asks me that -- tellin' me how they love his music. It has a lot to do with marketing I guess and it's all right I guess. But one of the problems I see with this so-called young-lions thing is that a lot of them are coming up too fast. They're not respecting the heritage. It's not like the days when you put your time in and learned. Everyone's a star with an ego now."

Redman does, however, exclude his son from that overall assessment. "He's a very unusual young man," the elder Redman says, pride obvious in his voice. "He's very talented. And, he knows what page he's on."

In January, Redman released his 13th disc, Live in London (Palmetto). It's an eight-song collection that illustrates his legendary versatility. Paired with a trio, he delivers an unpredictable set that touches upon just about every primary color in the jazz palette. His read-through of the standard "I Should Care," which opens the set, is a warm, moody piece that's strongly reminiscent of Charlie Parker's best ballad work, thanks to Redman's sonorous phrasing. Second up, "The Very Thought of You" is a touching tribute to mentor Dexter Gordon, cast in the same infectious mid-tempo swing that grabbed Redman during his childhood days in Fort Worth in the '40s. "Portrait in Black and White" is a introspective spoken-word piece set to quiet piano backdrop where the leader offers us some insights into his thoughts on race relations. In all, it's all a pretty far cry from the soul-less fluff regurgitated by all those Kenny G. clones out there.

"I like to play in a variety of modes," Redman says. During a typical night, he explains, "I'll never use a set list. I just play how I feel." It's an old-school philosophy he feels is fast becoming lost. "I didn't go to school for everything I learned," says the band leader (who, coincidentally, does hold a masters in music composition). "I learned a great deal by improvising. Now, for some guys today, who learned everything in class, that's very difficult to do. But it's something they have to pick up. Playing in one style all night just bores the heck out of me. And the audience too. What I do to beat that is change things up. It keeps me on my toes. And, I think, in the end, that's a better thing for the audience."

Redman confesses that he never planned on making reeds his career. "By the time I was 12, I'd decided I wanted to play music," he recalls, "but on trumpet. I went to this teacher -- he was a brother, and older man. Now, I was stuck on trumpet -- all the other shit had too many keys. Anyway, he told me I could never get trumpet right 'cause my lips were too big. Come to find out later he had a church band and he needed a clarinet player. Wasn't it funny that he started me off on clarinet!" Redmond chuckles. Before long, Redman was playing a full schedule of weekend gigs in and around Austin, where, he was working as a schoolteacher. Family business took him to California, and he spent seven years playing around San Francisco during that city's countercultural revolution. "It was a great time," he recalls. "The rock thing was happening with the Jefferson Airplane and the Grateful Dead, and it was probably the best place to be in America at the time."

Redman eventually made it to New York, where he wound up playing counterpoint to fellow Texan Ornette Coleman's own impressive talents. Currently, Redman is working on another collection of songs for a studio disc to be recorded sometime in the near future. "I guess you could say I've been able to survive in New York for 30 years doing nothing but playing music," he notes. "I've been pretty lucky."

The Dewey Redman Quartet plays Foothills Theatre's Just Jazz series on Wednesday, May 20 at 7:30 p.m. Tickets are $15 and $12 for WICN-FM members and Foothills subscribers. Call 754-3314 for details.