By Fred Jung

I am frustrated to no end that certain players never get their just dues. I am frustrated that both Dan Marino and Barry Sanders have never won a Super Bowl. I am frustrated that Ray Bourque has never taken a long drink from Lord Stanley's Cup. And I am frustrated that the public is unaware that Sam Rivers is one of the most significant composers in the music. So I give you a taste. A taste of the man behind one of the most main figures behind New York's loft scene in the '70s. I trust you will come away from this with a better awareness of the man and in turn better appreciate his contributions, as always, unedited and in his own words.

FJ: Let's start from the beginning.

SR: I got started in music by my mother and father. They were both musicians. My grandfather and my grandmother were musicians so I'm a third generation musician. My grandfather wrote books. We had a publishing company in the family in 1885, I think it was, maybe earlier. My mother and father were both musicians. I was born on the road while they were on tour. They were gospel singers, spiritual singers at that time. My mother was a pianist and my father was a singer. I studied violin, from maybe three years old. The first thing I remember is holding the violin and my first consciousness was playing. I played all the way through school. The school that I went to was a Catholic school and they had instruments there that were donated. If you wanted to be in the band, all you had to do was go in there and choose an instrument because there was a big closet full of instruments. You could play any one that you wanted to. I studied quite a few instruments there at the high school. And then I went on to a Christian college in Texas and I was studying general courses, but I was also in the band and in the orchestra. And then I was getting ready to get drafted in the Army, so I volunteered for the Navy because I thought it would be a much easier life in the Navy than in the Army.

FJ: Was it easier?

SR: Well, it turned out to be true. I really didn't do anything in the Navy but sit around and just practice all the time. I wasn't in the band. I went to a quartermaster's school in Great Lakes. I was among the first Black sailors that didn't go in as stewards. After I graduated from the school, I was stationed in California, Vallejo, California. That's pretty much where I spent my time in the service. Three years, I spent from '43-'45, three years. While I was in the Navy, I was playing in bands because I wasn't in the band. The band that they wanted to put me in, I didn't think sounded good. I'll learn something else. It was fortunate for me that I did because the musicians in the band had to play at the officer's quarters at night. They couldn't leave the base at night because they were always working at the officer's quarters from seven to one. And I had a different job. I was working in the headquarters, taking care of supplies, writing up supplies and everything. There were very few people at that time in the Navy, in the '40s, Black or white, that had a college degree and could type. I always had it pretty easy. I was going out at night, playing out in Vallejo, California and San Francisco and Oakland, which was close by. I was working with Jimmy Witherspoon. I was always working off the base and getting paid for it. I was set there. My job at the officer's headquarters was pretty much typing, typing invoices, and sometimes delivering. I had my own Jeep, which I could deliver film and stuff to the submarine. It was a submarine base. At that point, when I was just about to leave the Navy, they had these big discs that were government issue. We used to get them all the time. They were just compositions. This piece of music was Billy Eckstine's "Blowin' the Blues Away." I'll never forget it. I was sitting there, Billy Eckstine, the usual good arrangements because Eckstine's band was my favorite band after Earl Hines. Earl Hines was my favorite band and then Eckstine. Most of the guys came into Eckstine's band from Jay McShann and Earl Hines. Eckstine's band was really the all-star band. It was really something with Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie. All these guys were in Eckstine's band at one time. So I heard it and I was listening to it. Then at the end of it, this trumpet solo came in. It was the wildest thing that I had ever heard. I couldn't believe it. It was harmonically correct, but it was just taking all the notes, the most extreme notes of the chord. I was really impressed and I ran up to the musicians and I said, "Listen to this!" They were all impressed too. I didn't know who it was. Later on, I called my brother up because he was in the Navy, but he was stationed in Boston. He had a chance to go to New York and go to Minton's and he so he told me, "The guy you heard, that's Dizzy Gillespie." He said, "There's another guy named Charlie Parker, the Bird. They play together man and it's the wildest thing you've ever heard." That was my first impression of bebop. Of course, my main influences before that was Coleman Hawkins and Lester Young. I listened to everybody. I listened to everyone mainly because I didn't want to imitate anyone so I had to analyze everyone's style and make sure I heard everyone. I wrote my own exercise books to make sure that I didn't sound like anyone. It was a conscious effort to me, not to be an imitator. I have always believed that jazz musicians are individuals and we are here to express individual ideas about music. I'm a traditionalist in that sense.

FJ: But you would be hard pressed to find that sort of dedication these days.

SR: Well, Fred, I feel that soloists that are imitating are imposters. Most of the young musicians today, there is no validity to their playing because they haven't, they're pretty much playing someone else's music, only because they are not doing their research. They're not studying enough. They're taking the easy way out. Besides that, producers in particular, they like people that sound like someone else because it's easier for them. Producers are all frustrated musicians. They are musicians that have not talent, so they go into another end of the music, the producing end.

FJ: The heart of the Civil Right Movement was happening at that time.

SR: I was always playing in the white clubs and in the South, it was a little different from the North because it seems like the white women were more attracted to the Black man in the South than they are in the North. I guess the sexual attraction between the two races has always been pretty pronounced and so that's really the reason for racism in the first place, because of the sexual attraction of the white queens. I didn't really experience it. I went to a Catholic school and the teachers were German. They were German sisters, German nuns. I studied French and Latin in high school. My high school education was equal to a junior in college today. I've done some teaching and I know that some of the things that they are teaching in universities today, I had in high school. And it's fifty years later. I did do some teaching.

FJ: Why did you not continue with your teaching?

SR: I don't teach any more because it's too demanding and it's too straining. You don't really get anything creative done if you teach because teaching takes all your time. I don't do anything now but compose. You can't do all of these things at once. You can't teach, you can't perform, and you can't compose all at the same time. These three things are separate. If you are performing, that means you are just playing everything you know. If you're teaching, than you are also teaching everything you know. The only way that you are really going forward is to sit at your desk and compose and try to write something new and original to express yourself, which is why I don't teach anymore. I've taught at Dartmouth. I've taught at Connecticut College. I've taught at the New School in New York. I don't do any teaching anymore because like I said, Fred, it's too demanding and the money's not right. You're working too hard. Teachers are probably the most underpaid and under-respected people in this country. It's not like that in any other country. Teachers in Japan and Europe are very highly respected. I can't imagine being a teacher anymore. I'm doing compositions. I admire any person who can teach because it's a very demanding profession so I don't so it anymore. I do take a few students now and then but I try not to. I discourage them. It's a hundred dollar a lesson, so I make sure that no one comes. But I did have some offers. Guys came by and I said it was a hundred dollars a lesson and they said it was OK. I guess that's not enough. I better charge two-fifty a lesson. I do have kids, I guess they're rich, that will pay a hundred dollars. You only need two lessons from me and I give enough information in two lessons to last you for five, six years. I don't really have that many students anyway. I don't think you need to go. I think that schools are more for the teachers than they are for the students. I graduated from college in three years because I went to summer school. Four years is too long to be in school. It is stretched out that long so the teachers can get more money. Four years is too long for the information that they pass to you.

FJ: Let's talk about your days with Herb Pomeroy's band.

SR: I went to Boston and studied at the Conservatory, Boston Conservatory. At the same time that I was at the Conservatory, there were quite a few other musicians that were studying in Boston at the same time. Jackie Byard was there. Quincy Jones was studying there. Gigi Gryce was there. Herb Pomeroy was there. As a matter of fact, Fred, if it wasn't for Herb Pomeroy, there wouldn't be any Berklee School of Music. He pretty much built it by himself. Alan Dawson was there and over fifty percent of the students came from all over the world to study with Dawson. It was a school full of drummers and guitar players at one time. I didn't teach there, but I was a part of the Herb Pomeroy's Band, which was made up of teachers at Berklee. I stayed in Boston because I had this particular good job there and I had a family. I was working for the company that if you sent in your poems and lyrics, we'd put music to them. I was the main guy that was putting music to it. Send some lyrics to me and I'll have the music for you in an hour max.

FJ: Did that come natural to you?

SR: Well, I have always been very adept at that. All through my life, I've been writing down, I wrote music like some other person keeps a diary. I have all these different things. I have works in progress. I have four hundred compositions ready at this point. I have just released, maybe, fifteen. I have all this material.

FJ: Let's talk about your latest release on RCA Victor, Inspiration, why did you use the standard jazz orchestra configuration for your Rivbea All-Star Orchestra?

SR: The reason why I wrote for the standard jazz orchestra, four trumpets, four trombones, and five saxes, was to make sure I got the music played. I wrote it so it could be played by, there are over a thousand jazz bands in the United States alone and around the world I would double that. They're all playing the music of stock arrangements and stock compositions from other people. You can buy Duke Ellington's music and you can buy Count Basie's music and Stan Kenton. You can buy all the music of the big bands. That's the main reason why I stayed with this particular size orchestra, so I can make sure that my legacy is pretty much enjoyed by people and other musicians in the future.

FJ: Are you surprised that your new release is on a major label?

SR: I certainly am. It's a French label. It's BMG in Paris. It's don't have anything to do with the United States.

FJ: You had to go to Paris for this?

SR: I had to go to Paris for this. I just came back from Paris. It's European. It has nothing to do with America at all. In the past two years, I've done about six CDs in Europe, not one in the United States. I limit myself. I've invited to do more records, to do more CDs in Europe, it's just that I don't want to overdue it. There's a few people like Shipp (Matthew Shipp) maybe that does a lot and what's his name, plays with the World Saxophone Quartet?

FJ: David Murray.

SR: David Murray. And Archie Shepp. They do records just to get the money and they don't get that much money for it. I guess it's good that they do all these underfinanced CDs. In some ways they will get out there. I have offers to do more CDs, but I wouldn't do that. I have my own record company too, which is Rivbea Sounds and I produce two CDs for my trio.

FJ: Your trio?

SR: My trio is the most exciting, creative trio in the music business today. My trio is the most exciting, most creative trio.

FJ: What is it about the big band?

SR: It was the harmonies. There were so many big bands at the time and they all had a different identity, whether it was Count Basie, or Duke Ellington, or Cab Calloway, or Earl Hines, or Jay McShann. I'm leaving out over ten. I can't even think of them. There was Chick Webb's band with Ella Fitzgerald singing. This was before I went into the Navy. This was in the late '30s, late '30s and '40s when there a proliferation of these kinds of bands. But I like small groups too. I heard Coleman Hawkins. I never saw him with a big band. I performed with him in Boston. He was usually in a quintet or quartet. The others came later. Lester Young came later with his small group. He was always with Count Basie at that time.

FJ: In the '70s you and your wife opened Studio Rivbea, that became an essential venue for the New York loft scene.

SR: I had always planned on it. I was living in Boston after I graduated. I just stayed there to raise a family and everything. In 1964, I joined Miles Davis. I was on the road with Tony Williams because we had a weekend place that I played for years over by Harvard Square. I was always there and playing. I was doing music to lyrics, which was a very lucrative endeavor. I really didn't have to go on the road. It was 1964 when I joined Miles Davis. I moved to New York after Miles Davis. I moved because I had all these compositions. To go to New York for the first time and play with Miles Davis, I was really set. Tony Williams and myself, we both were. I moved to New York because there were not enough musicians in Boston, beacuse I had already started writing compositions. In 1964, I had about fifty compositions. I moved to New York because I was planning on playing a new composition every week. I never really got a chance to do that because the musicians at that time weren't up to the reading of it, the reading of the music. A lot of the musicians really were soloists so their reading wasn't that good. They would have to take the music home and practice it. On the other hand, the musicians that could read really couldn't solo that well. I had a choice between the non-readers who could improvise or the readers who couldn't improvise. I took the non-readers who improvised. I had this music and I didn't have a place to rehearse. I wanted a place where I could rehearse anytime, 24 hours. If I got up at 3 in the morning and decided to pull my horn out, I could do it. That's why I rented the loft, which wasn't really a loft. It was a walk-in space on the first floor. It was really a factory building. It was the first floor. It was really a performance space. I set it up as a theater. It held about two hundred, two hundred and fifty people. I didn't really set it up to do concerts. I just set it up so I could rehearse my music. I just set it up so we could have a place to rehearse anytime we wanted to.

FJ: What is your conception of what is going on today?

SR: Today is the same, now it's back to where it was when I first started. There is no real modern music being played in New York now. There is no place to go hear modern music. It's pretty much the way it was in the '60s. There's no one, it's too expensive to do what I did, to just offer avant-garde. When I had my studio, people that performed in it were like Anthony Braxton, Muhal Richard Abrams, Leroy Jenkins, Henry Threadgill. These are the kinds of musicians that I had featured. You can't find these musicians in New York now and you couldn't find them in New York then. It's back to the same way it was now. All you have now is people playing the retro stuff. It's kind of strange. You look at a major label and you wonder how these major labels in the United States get to have such bad reputations. You look at a magazine and you know that there is not going to be any new music on it. You know you're going to waste your time. It's the same as the best seller list of books. It's not worth reading. If it were worth reading, somebody would be trying to ban it. That the thing, Fred. It's just like it is with the music there. If it's worth listening to, someone is going to try and ban it. You don't hear it on the radio. You don't hear any kind of music on the radio. You don't hear modern music on the radio. You don't even hear modern classical music on the radio. You don't hear anything on the radio. Somebody is banning it. If it's important then someone is going to try and ban it.

FJ: You are one of the music's most significant composers, why do you feel that you have not received your do?

SR: Well, if it's important then someone is going to try and ban it.

FJ: You spoke of how there is no modern music in New York, with that in mind, what are your feelings towards the contributions of Wynton Marsalis and Lincoln Center to the overall lineage of the music?

SR: The problem is with me is Wynton is a friend of mine. Eventually, I'm going to perform in Lincoln Center. I can't really alienate him (laughing). He respects me as a musician and he comes and listens to my music. I think that Wynton does is very necessary. He has the music appealing to a younger crowd. He is closer to classical music than he is to jazz, I would think. Wynton is a traditional musician in the sense that he has no real respect for the avant-garde musicians, mainly because they don't know anything about the music. A lot of them are self-taught. A guy picks up an instrument. He has the talent and he plays it. There are a lot of musicians that are into, like Ornette Coleman, he's self-taught. For me, that's the height. I respect any person that can pick up and learn how to play without going to school. That's just as difficult as learning how to read and write. I really have ultimate, high respect for musicians that just picked up an instrument. Eventually, they learned it and learned their own style and started to create their own thing. I went to a Conservatory. I'm expected to do something because I had all the advantages. Here's a guy that had no advantages coming up and he's making a statement that is really creative. I really respect that, but the traditional musicians don't. They feel like if you don't play changes and things, you are not part of the group. They keep you out.

FJ: But you get that same "avant-garde" musician rap too?

SR: I was with Cecil Taylor. Then I was with Dizzy Gillespie afterwards. Dizzy does not hire anyone, never in his life did he hire anyone that couldn't play on changes. My experiences are every valid. There is no way I can be considered strictly avant-garde. I cover the spectrum. I've performed with T-Bone Walker and B. B. King. I've also performed with the San Francisco Symphony and everything in between. At one time in New York, if they had a symphony part and they wanted someone to improvise, they called me, no one else. They would tell me what it was and I was always there. My experiences go from gritty, funky, up until the highest symphonic music. I am the only musician in the history of music to just perform with so many different musicians. No one else has done that. There are not too many musicians that can say, none can say that they played with Miles Davis and Cecil Taylor and Andrew Hill and T-Bone Walker and Osawa, plus Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, trumpet player, Freddie Hubbard, Woody Shaw, Jackie Byard. I'm very fortunate.

FJ: Let's talk about some of the musicians you have collaborated with. Dave Holland.

SR: Excellent musician, yes.

FJ: Miles Davis.

SR: Tremendous. A very soft, sensitive person. An excellent musician.

FJ: Cecil Taylor.

SR: Very intense person. Very talented, sensitive, poetic, very knowledgeable. Renaissance person.

FJ: Dizzy Gillespie.

SR: Dizzy Gillespie, very, highly talented. Humorous, very serious about the music, but also humorous look at life. Very easy going person.

FJ: And the future?

SR: Remember, Fred, that CD is three years old. We have new material, so we would like to do another one.