By Nils Jacobson
Let's start this interview in reverse and go from there. What are you doing right now? What kind of records are you thinking about putting out? Are you going on tour? What's new and upcoming?
Well, I can tell you what's up and coming. Here's a new project. We started this thing... we're going on tour in March with a group called Conference Call. It's a group with Matt Wilson, Gebhard Ullmann, and Michael Stevens. It's a new project that's exciting in the fact that the combination of personalities is very interesting to me. Because you have Gebhard Ullmann on one end, and then you have me and Michael kind of in the middle, and then you've got this cat Matt Wilson who brings in all the humor. So it's almost like a group that covers--not a complete spectrum--but a large area of possibilities, you know... from a very serious sort of approach to music to a very creative one. And then added in is this whole humor thing, but in a very natural way, you know, because that's really who Matt is. He's an incredibly creative person, but he has this sense of theater, and I actually gravitate towards that, too. We did one tour already, about six months ago. And it was very enlightening to see where the relationships lie... with Michael and me kind of in the middle. But I was always very easily gravitating toward Matt's theatrical reality. Whereas Michael gravitated toward Gebhard's more serious approach to the music. So it was interesting the way we would intermix the possibilities of where one person might go and another person might not. I have a theatrical sense of things also, and I was really able to bring that out. That's one of the newest projects at the moment. A European tour.
But a year from now, we have something already started in California, so we've actually--Michael and I have also--started to look into finding work in our own country. You know, everybody's been pushing the European thing so heavy. I think it was Gerry Hemingway who did something a few years ago in America, and it showed us all that if you wanted to put the time into it, maybe you could find some work here... and bring the music to the people here, also. It's harder, but there are possibilities, you know?
That's a problem for a lot of creative musicians. There's a much bigger market in Europe for this kind of thing, for both performance and recording.
Yeah, there is.
Why do you think that is?
One reason is that for art in general in Europe, is that, because of it being old, there's more culture and there's more history. There's still a sense of interest in art--that art is important--since art again connects to a whole sense of having history. So that attitude might be the primary one. In their culture, there's a sense that art is important, that art is part of their life. It always has been, for hundreds of years. Whereas in America, everything's so new.
It's interesting, because in this country, New York is definitely the hub for that sort of thing. There's much more market availability for performance there.
That's true, I guess. It's the artistic center of America, you know? But New York's a struggle too, because there are so many people, so many artists... Even though there's a lot of work, it's spread so thin. But it's the energy that makes it the place that it is.
When you play in Europe, do you do things differently?
I remember something someone told me once when I first went. He said [hushed voice], "Hey, take your tape recorder, and then tape the music! Because man, you play different there." That was when I first started to go, and now I understand what he meant. It's simply because if you have an appreciative audience, there's a give-and-take, and a communication between the artist and the audience, that affects the music. And you can have that there, where you can't always here... Not all the time, but some times in America, you don't get it because people don't have that appreciation. That's what makes you do anything different. In Europe they allow you to deliver the music on a different level, because they're there with you. That's what changes it.
The great irony is that a lot of the records you have out are on European labels--which probably makes them less available here. And that must bias people, because they've had more of a chance to hear you.
Yeah, that's true. I think the only American label we had was Music & Arts, on the first few Fonda/Stevens Group records. And it folded. So that just goes back to what I said earlier. There's a bigger support system for creative music--or whatever you want to call it--there than there is here. There's a bunch of new labels now in this country, you know, but they're still not doing what Leo's doing... OmniTone and Palmetto, for example. They're putting out some nice music, but they're careful not to go too far to the outside edge.
I guess you gotta stay afloat.
Yeah, maybe. Sure, that's a concern for them.
The American listener really has to make an effort to check out what you do, because a lot of these labels aren't to be found in the average store. You've got to get them somewhere special.
That's true. It's a shame. Conference Call has a CD now that we're selling [Final Answer], but we're trying to get it with an American label, just so that we get the thing into the American market.
Speaking of records, your recorded output has gone way up in the last five years or so. There's a lot more Fonda records out there.
Yeah, that's really true.
OK. Let's switch gears a bit. You've talked before about how you have a special affinity with drummers, and you approach the bass from a rhythmic standpoint. But a lot of freer-playing bassists use extended techniques. They're playing rhythm--they're slapping the body of their instrument. They do a lot of this tap-and-slap thing. But for the most part, you're playing the strings. Is there a reason for that?
It's true that I have a strong relationship with drummers. I always have. And my approach is very percussive and rhythmic. But I'm a sound conceptualist. I think of music in terms of sound.
What do you mean by that?
Well, you talk about a lot of those other guys slapping the bass. One of the things that I do that is extended is--I'm always searching for sounds on the instrument--where I'll bow underneath the bass, where the there's that wire down there that connects to the tailpin. I'll bow this.
But I'm always searching for sounds. It's a kind of textural consciousness. One thing I do differently from someone who always thinks percussive is I am very texturally conscious. That would mean I would look for sounds which create a sort of palette. Whereas if it they were strictly percussive, they will tend to have a, not a monotone... but your textural thing won't be so extreme. But I'm very conscious of texture, and I hear music in thicknesses and thinnesses. So maybe I play the strings more because it allows me to search for those sorts of things. Harmonic things combined with rhythm, or... I'm definitely a texturally aware musician, which connects again to the sound concept.
For this sound concept, do you have an image in your mind?
I think it has to do with an affinity for hearing music not in a linear, or even a metric-rhythmic way... but in the sense of a sound. Just a sound. How do I break down a sound? I know a lot of people think linearly, harmonically or melodically. Sun Ra put it once--his musicians were "tone scientists." I understand exactly what he was talking about. It's just another way of thinking about, or organizing, the music or the elements. I can hear someone scrape across the table, and I can hear the music in it, whereas somebody else might just hear it as a scrape across the table. So it's an affinity for that type of thing. I've always had it. I think some cats have that, you know? Roscoe Mitchell definitely has that. Braxton has it, Ra had it. You know, they were thinking about music from a sound perspective, not a linear, or harmonic, or vertical structure.
I think that's more possible when you're playing in a group. There are more dimensions going on at the same time. But you also made a solo record [When It's Time], and that's just you. The textures are made by you with yourself. That's a totally different deal, right?
Yeah. When you have to do it by yourself, it's a totally different deal.
What's the solution there?
Well, let's talk about it in that sense. You're much more limited. This is true. When you're playing by yourself, you're much more limited. So you can still achieve texture--and I still did on the solo record--but the textures become different. Not thinner, but... I didn't do any overdubbing. If I had done overdubbing, then I could have created another kind of textural reality. But I just played the music down... You have to work even harder. You have to dig even deeper, and become even more selfless, so the instrument and the music will give you something when you're all by yourself.
So you imply things without stating them explicitly.
That's a technique in itself in creating textures: not being too literal. That process of being literal eliminates, in my opinion, texture and mystery and dimension. I've always gravitated towards not being too literal. I hesitate, because I remember that when I'm dealing with time, I'm sometimes trying to play something that grooves. Then I become so literal. In order for me to get the feeling I want to get when I'm playing time, if I'm after some kind of groove, I need to be literal. So I'm aware of both situations. But when you're looking for texture, this thing of not being too literal is a a very important element.
Part of that idea comes from the African concept of texture, where space represents something just as much as a note represents something. The texture that you get out of an African rhythm ensemble is something else...
That's true. I would probably say that the African music tradition is rooted in a non-Western way of thinking, which has to do with sound and texture and different realities. I'm sure of it.
And also the subjugation of the individual to the benefit of the group. Western music tends to be very individualistic. In a group like that, the idea is to make a point together, instead of being the best musician per se.
That element in itself is a whole nother point. It has nothing to do with your individual talents or ego or anything, it's about people coming together for a higher purpose--which is very refreshing. It's funny, because I just got off the phone with Brenda Bufalino, who's the tap dancer I work with. We just had a concert in Lisbon with the From the Source group. And we were both saying that that's that idea drives the group, because of this woman in the group who's a healer and does the vocals [Vickie Dodd]. If we're gonna really play or create music with this woman, then we have to forget about being professional musicians, and forget about our ego, and throw all this stuff out the window... and come at the thing in a totally spiritual direction, in a totally selfless way, for it to work. Because this woman can only connect if that's happening. We had some trouble on this last gig, because we didn't take the time, before we even started, to establish what this whole thing was about. So it turned into just another gig, and we missed an opportunity to forget about "another gig," and do something in the same way that you mentioned African cultures come together to create something. That can be so refreshing. You don't get it very often in the Western world, because there's so much of that ego. You know, "I'm this!" and "I'm that!" That's what it's all about. That sort of mentality.
The other thing that's striking about that group is that you have a dancer in there. That must be kind of hard to record. It's the sort of thing where you'd probably get a lot more out of watching the performance than strictly listening to it.
That's true, in some sense. Tap dancing is so... the rhythms that this woman is playing are heavy. Her rhythmical stuff, and her entire musical thing, is very heavy. But because she's a tap dancer, folks still think of it more in a visual sense. So I guess as people we have to learn to just focus on what comes out musically. Through the years, the jazz drummers and the tap dancers were all hooked up. And they were all sharing information and rhythmical stuff. I mean Max knew all the tap dancers. He knew Sandman Simms, and Sandman Simms knew Max. And they were sharing the information because they were all developing this stuff. So they could hear what was happening with the dancers. I still have people today who hear the record and think, "What's this click-clicking stuff going on?" I've had cats say, "I don't get it, Joe, what's this click-click-click?" All I can say is man, you gotta keep listening, because you're not getting it.
I would think that just because it's a weight-bearing process to tap dance, it would be a lot easier to get the same essence out of a set of drums. You'd have more freedom of motion.
Yeah, maybe. But you know, this stuff she does with her feet, I haven't heard any drummer ever do. And it's also just the principle that this is a person's legs, just two legs making this, so it has a whole different weight to it, a whole different reality to it, than a man or woman sitting down in front of a set of drums and using all four limbs. For me, I've always been moved by tap dancers, so when I listen to the record [From the Source], it fascinates me. So I'm not sure. I wouldn't agree you'd get the same thing. I know you'd not get the same thing out of a set of drums that she gets out of her feet, in an exact sense. You know, she could show the drummer some of her rhythms, and he could play them (and vice-versa), but the feeling is quite different. Just in the sense of weight, to use the word you chose. But it's much lighter as a dance, and a much lighter way of playing rhythm. The rhythms are deep, you know?
So I love it. Certainly a refreshing compared to the usual staple of rhythm you normally get out of a jazz band, or improvised group, or whatever you want to call it.
One thing I've noticed is you hum a lot. You sing, sort of, when you're playing. A lot of musicians do that. Is that because you're putting so much effort into detaching your brain from anything else so that you can concentrate, or is it just something you can't help?
For me it's something that just happened. Never even thought about it, never even tried to do it. It just happened through my development as a bass player. It just came, and I never shut it down. Even though there've been times where people said, "Man! Shut up, will you?" Some people don't hire me because I make too much noise with my voice. But that's OK. Some people do just the opposite. I can't do it any other way, actually. But I think it's pretty much the same thing when I listen to Erroll Garner and he's humming. I almost feel like it's part of the process, you know? The only time I feel like it's a preconceived thing is when George Benson is doing his thing. But that's another kind of thing, where he can sing all his stuff. The kind of thing that I do, that Erroll Garner did, it comes from the whole process of trying to get the energy happening inside the music, you know? The same with Keith Jarrett. Slam Stewart and those cats, they actually sang the exact lines they were playing, which was something different maybe. Slam used to sing in harmony with himself, and man, that was a heavy pitch thing going. My process is a little different, because it has more to do with the energy, I think. It's the way I keep the energy connected in my body and send it through the music, you know? Again, it's very natural. I never tried to do it, it just came that way.
On to part 2 of the Joe Fonda interview
