The 2012 Playboy Jazz Festival, which takes place at the Hollywood Bowl this weekend, features the rare presence of three world class female jazz drummers. Writer/musician Devon Wendell describes his reaction when he first saw the Festival line up.
By Devon Wendell
Growing up, I always thought of the drums as being this potent symbol of masculine power. I’d listen to Max Roach, Philly Joe Jones, Elvin Jones, Billy Higgins, Art Blakey, Tony Williams, and Roy Haynes. These men sounded tough, pissed off, strong and as if they possessed boundless energy. Bird, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, or Miles could be playing the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard and then this bombastic force would enter in a way that felt like Zeus throwing thunder bolts from the heavens – and at the same time it always complimented the music perfectly.
The initial experiences of that drum sound were so wild that it made me giggle as if I were listening to something forbidden. It was a similar feeling that I had when sneaking off with my high school chums, smoking and listening to Richard Pryor albums when no adults were present.
Although I could play guitar, bass, harmonica, and some keys by my mid-teens, the drums always intimidated me. I felt too weak and geeky to be a drummer. It was Max Roach with Bird on those classics Verve sides that scared me away from picking up those sticks. Once I had second thoughts and was going to give it a go, I heard Philly Joe Jones’ drum solo behind Miles Davis on Miles’ version of the Dizzy Gillespie classic “Salt Peanuts” from those incredible Prestige recordings of 1956. Once again I felt like the scrawny kid watching the jocks slamming into each other on the football field.
I knew that I could be lethargic, lazy and fake self confidence with an electric guitar but not with drums. Unless you’re playing an electric kit like that dreadful sound Phil Collins was selling to the public in the 80s, there’s nothing to hide behind on the drums. To me, this was a tough guy’s instrument.
My perception of drummers quickly shifted when I first saw Sheila E. performing with Prince on TV. She bashed away at the kit, creating polyrhythmic bliss. All of my sexist, preconceived notions of what a woman could and couldn’t do vanished like all my dreams and aspirations did in high school. Sheila E. appeared just as confident and energetic as Elvin Jones playing with John Coltrane.
Many years later I saw Sheila E. perform with her father – the brilliant and legendary percussionist and composer Pete Escovedo. There must have been six or seven percussionists up their on stage, and they all seemed to be having a hard time keeping up with Sheila E., who had this ferocious look on her face. Her teeth were gritted as she stared down her father and his comrades. I could imagine her saying, “Take that boys!” I found this confidence to be extremely sexy.
One night while I was attending college, I ventured down to the Knitting Factory in NYC to see Pharoah Sanders. Although he was great in his own right, it was his drummer that got my attention. Here was this slender woman with big, wild hair tossing back and fourth on her head, and her arms flailing all over the drums. She looked totally relaxed but played as aggressively as Tony Williams. I rushed over to the sound man to find out who she was and he told me, “Man, that’s Cindy Blackman.”
At times, her facial expressions revealed possible shyness, which I could not match with her total control and mastery of the drum kit. Her ideas kept flowing. She played the top and bottom of the kit while taking risks and never missing a beat. I instantly had a crush on Blackman, whose appearance was that of a modern day, elegant, psychedelic goddess. But I wasn’t cool enough to approach her, not even close. I barely saw Sanders and whoever else was in the band that night. I knew that this drummer was someone who was going to get a lot of attention.
The next time I saw Blackman play was a year later with Lenny Kravitz at some God awful rock festival in New Jersey. Behind Kravitz, she played a funkier, more subordinate roll, but the effect was just as compelling. She gave Lenny some much needed groove.
In 2003, I was in Atlanta and went to see Herbie Hancock, who was set to play with fellow legend, vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson. This was one of the greatest performances I’ve ever witnessed. Once again, the drummer caught my ears and eyes.
Hancock introduced her, and the name Terri Lyne Carrington has stayed with me ever since. What struck me about Carrington was her sense of dynamics. Amazingly, she could play soft and hard all at once, using high hat flourishes with the bass drum in a way that was completely unique. Herbie may have been the band leader, but Carrington was the driving force, taking the band way up and then down to where you could hear “A rat piss on cotton,” as Ella Fitzgerald used to put it. It was as if Carrington was aware of what Hancock, Hutcherson, and bassist Scott Colley were going to do before they did. She played melodically the way Art Taylor did behind Jackie McLean. The jazz dork in me was in love again.
All three women let it be known that they are proud and strong and can give any male drummer a run for their money. Cindy Blackman (now Cindy Blackman Santana) has said, “I wouldn’t care if Art Blakey was pink with polka dots wearing a tutu or if Tony Williams was green. Me being a female drummer has nothing to do with anything except for the fact that I wear bras and panties and guys don’t.” (Well, some guys.)
Terri Lyne Carrington says of her latest musical venture (and fifth album as a bandleader) The Mosaic Project: “This particular project really is to celebrate women artists, women musicians, and women instrumentalists and singers.” Like bassist Esperanza Spalding, (who has also proven to be a great innovator on a male dominated instrument), Carrington is also a uniquely soulful vocalist. The Mosaic Project won a Grammy this year in the Best Jazz Vocal category. The album not only celebrates woman musicians and artists but features such great ladies as Dianne Reeves, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Nona Hendryx, Cassandra Wilson, Esperanza Spalding, Gerri Allen, and Sheila E. All the musicians on the album are women. Sheila E. said about the project, “I dare any man to come and try to do this!”
You can see all three artists perform at The 34th Annual Playboy Jazz Festival this weekend.
Sheila E. will be playing a set with her own band on Saturday, June 16th, the opening day of The Festival.
Cindy Blackman Santana appears on Sunday’s program with her latest band, Spectrum Road, which is a tribute to Tony Williams (featuring Vernon Reid: guitar, John Medeski: keyboards, and Jack Bruce on bass) performing music from their self-titled debut album Spectrum Road on Sunday.
And Terri Lyne Carrington and her Mosaic Project – with Gretchen Parlato, Carmen Lundy, Tia Fuller, Ingrid Jensen, Helen Sung, Linda Taylor, Mimi Jones, Patrice Rushen, Angela Davis (and some surprise guests) are also on the Sunday Playboy Festival line up.
I can visualize Max, Elvin, Philly Joe, Art Blakey, and Billy Higgins all standing together, dressed to the nines, looking down from heaven at these three women playing and then slapping each other five and saying, “Yeah, they got it covered,” and maybe even looking somewhat envious at what they see and hear.
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For information about the 34th Playboy Jazz Festival, call the Festival hot line – (310) 450-1173 — or click HERE.
To read more posts and reviews by Devon Wendell click HERE.
The International Review of Music 