Sunny Murray, the bebop tradition, and Milford Graves
— Sunny Murray to a young, interested, Hans Bennink
Here's an interview by Dan Warburton, with one of the original free jazz drummers, Sunny Murray. It's most interesting to me as a piece of archeology into the attitudes of these players, who seemed at the time to be making such a large break with previous music, and who are often regarded as not maintaining, shall we say, traditional technical standards. But Murray clearly feels himself to be part of the same tradition as some more mainstream players (even if McCall and Blackwell were thought of as avant-garde at the time) and having less connection to another early free player, Milford Graves, who he felt had basically nothing to do with the jazz tradition:
When I won the Downbeat New Star Talent Deserving Wider Recognition award in 1966, which I think I earned for creating something different on the jazz scene, Leroi [Jones, writer] put out a great filibuster until his friends finally gave the 1967 New Star to Milford. That changed my feelings about Downbeat, as well as justice and honesty in art – I felt my music was being used in a power game, because there were drummers like Eddie Blackwell, Steve McCall, Charlie Persip and Louis Hayes who had come through the ranks with me, and if by some freak I'd won the award they should get it too... but Milford?
[...] I like Milford a lot, but basically I have the attitude of a bebop drummer regarding what I feel about music and other drummers. Milford didn't come from bebop at all. I love Roy Brooks, and Louis Hayes with those beautiful mahogany-looking hands, Eddie Blackwell that could just swing your head off, Steve McCall was the best surprise with the left hand I ever heard, Dennis Charles he'd just chug-a-lug you for ever. [...] You know, it's traditional for a drummer to be opinionated about other drummers, because there are some basics and roots in jazz drumming and there's a whole generation today that hasn't had to deal with those rules or laws, aesthetically or spiritually, or go through the kinds of pressures I had to go through, Louis Hayes, Dennis Charles, Eddie Blackwell, Steve McCall had to go through... It wasn't something unpleasant, it was an education.
His first impressions of Milford Graves reinforce his apart-ness from the tradition:
He didn't even know my name, he'd just come in from Boston, playing congas and bongos. He knew nothing about nobody, least of all Charlie Parker, but that was OK. Next thing I know there's the Contemporary Five, and they've got pictures of Milford dressed in a tie and a suit like the MJQ! I listened to them rehearse in Roswell's place, and Milford didn't even know which pedal was which! If you'd asked him for a paradiddle he'd think you wanted two eggs and bacon. Quote musician's joke unquote.
More after the break:
Teaching, study, and methodology:
Do you think that drummers today have got it easy in a way?
Yeah, very easy – they don't particularly have to study music intensively, like harmony or theory or acoustics – they just play, and that's OK. With most avant-garde drummers it's like that. I wouldn't say I'm old-fashioned, but it's like... what's a building without a foundation? I always think avant-garde drummers should find out what they're playing and make a system out of it that can be taught technically to someone. Avant-garde drummers don't teach much because they don't really offer a technical system, they offer the “let's do what I do”. Milford does that. I had a drummer friend who was in Milford's class at Bennington who told me he had fights with Milford because he asked Milford to play an Elvin Jones record, and Milford was freaking out, screaming “Don't ever listen to nobody but me!” Sure, doing what Milford does is difficult but once you can do it, it's done. I don't teach that way because students would never do what I do – I make it too complicated, because I am a little complicated in order to get the effects I want. I played in New York recently and one young cat tried to play everything I'd played, and I said “Do you really think you can play everything I play in one set? I've been playing this for 42 years!” No, I teach my students basic technique, to work. I want the guy to excel, to make good records, people to think highly of him. I want him to go get a gig, and tell 'em I sent him. “Who's your teacher?” “Sunny Murray.” “Oh boy, he can do that!” I don't want them to say like “Unhh, Sunny Murray, oh he's just a way-out guy that plays like shit...”
Sunny's perspective on tunes:
They're my tunes on most of the records you hear – not because I don't love bebop tunes, but I just didn't have the cats who could play like that. I couldn't ask them to play “Round About Midnight”, because they'd play it another way. In those days if you didn't play it like it was written, they'd think you were fucking the tune up! Today you can play “Round About Midnight” and play only two or three notes out of it and get away with it, people say “He's making a statement...” My ass, he don't know the tune man!
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