On the tenor saxophone, Lew Tabackin has a strong, bossy sound. Other major saxophonists who came up at the same time include Joe Henderson and Joe Farrell. On flute, Lew has a warm, pronounced tone.
Lew will be making a rare live appearance on New York's Upper East Side at 92NY on Saturday, July 19, at 7:30 p.m. You can attend in-person at the cultural institution (starting at $40 per seat) or purchase an online ticket (starting at $20) and stream from anywhere in the world. His appearance is part of 92NY's annual Jazz in July Festival.
He will part of the Tenors of Our Time concert, featuring saxophonists Melissa Aldana, Chris Lewis, Walter Smith III and Lew Tabackin, backed by pianist and artistic director Aaron Diehl, bassist Yasushi Nakamura and drummer Kush Abadey.
Here's Part 2 of my recent interview with Lew. Tomorrow, I'll have 10 of my favorite clips:
Jazz Wax: How did you wind up with Maynard Ferguson and recording with the band on the album Ridin’ High in 1967?
Lew Tabackin: After the Calloway tour, I was playing in rehearsal bands when two friends, baritone saxophonist Joel Kaye and alto saxophonist Dick Spencer, recommended me. The experience was kind of mixed.
JW: How so?
LT: I never had any real big band experience nor had I wanted to play in one. Around this time, Maynard was beginning his quasi psychedelic jazz stuff on the road. My job on tenor was to freak out because I could do it, having played free jazz. The band’s personnel kept changing. Frank Vicari, who was next to me on tenor, was great. I developed a lot of appreciation for Frank. I recall Pepper Adams as well.
JW: Maynard had a heavy major mid-life crisis.
LT: He was a really warm, nice guy, but he was trying way too hard to become more popular with a younger crowd. Timothy Leary, the father of LSD, took over his life and it got kind of strange. In late 1967, Maynard planned an extensive tour of Europe the following year with the band's book of arrangements but had to use local players over there.
JW: You wound up with Duke Pearson, yes?
LT: Duke was important for me. I have no idea how we came together, but word got around and I started rehearsing with his band, which was like a family, sometimes a dysfunctional one. We really played his music in a special way. It was my main band.
JW: What was special about Duke?
LT: His writing was delicate and elegant. Then Frank Forster wrote some charts for the band that were more muscular. One time we did a gig at a club in New York, and Frank Forster's family was there. So Duke gave Frank more solos than I had, and he apologized after. I said, “You don't have to apologize." Duke was so respectful and sensitive. The opposite was the case in the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Band. Thad was a trumpet and arranging giant, but never gave much thought to soloists in the band. He just had the band played the charts he wanted to play. One time Pepper Adams sent him up a note that said, “Play me or trade me." We had played an entire night and Pepper didn’t have a single solo. And he was once of the best.
JW: Around this time you also played with the Clark Terry All-Stars Band, yes
LT: That's right. I began playing with Clark Terry in small groups and then his big band. He was a remarkable player and a great guy. Don Friedman was on piano. I wound up with the All-Stars not because I was an all-star but because I was hanging out at the right time at Jim and Andy's, the famous Manhattan musician's bar.
JW: What happened?
LT: Everyone hung out in there between recording sessions or to network. It was on 48th St., just west of Sixth Avenue. The day I was there, Zoot Sims was there. I always had my tenor with me. Zoot said, “Hey man, Clark's rehearsing this band and I don't feel like doing it. Why don't you go?" So I went and got a chair along with Phil Woods, Frank Wess and Danny Bank.
JW: Was it a one shot?
LT: It could have been. I kept showing up at Jim and Andy's the following week and the same thing happened, Zoot passed and I got the gig. After four or five times, Phil Woods finally said to me, “I don't think Zoot wants to do this. You may as well do it since you've been rehearsing.” That's how I became one of the All-Stars.
JW: How did you meet pianist Toshiko Akiyoshi?
LT: Clark’s band was playing at New York’s Half Note when pianist Don Friedman couldn’t make it one night. Clark's manager brought in Toshiko to play the piano. She was getting ready to do a big Town Hall concert celebrating her 10th year in New York. Clark called a blues in D-flat. I'd been working really hard at that point trying to absorb a lot more elements into my playing. Toshiko was really was impressed by my playing.
JW: What happened next?
LT: Tenor saxophonist Joe Farrell was supposed to play her Town Hall concert but cancelled. So she called her manager and said, “I found the saxophonist I want to replace Joe." I took the gig but then I had to cancel because I had to go on the road with Clark. Toshiko and I started to do some small-group gigs. That's how we met, became a couple and married in 1969.
JW: Before you married, the quintet recorded Toshiko at Top of the Gate, in 1968.
LT: That was one of my first standout recordings. Kenny Dorham was on it, too, of course, my former jam-session judge. He remembered me. He said, “Man, you've come a long way." Which was nice. He was a really good guy and wonderful player.
JW: You recorded three Blue Note albums with Duke Pearson. Two were released in the late 1960s and the third didn’t come out until 1996. There were live recordings, too.
LT: I started with Duke in 1967. We recorded Introducing Duke Pearson’s Big Band. It was tough on the road. Duke Pearson tried to get me a record contract, but jazz recording opportunities were drying up on labels.
JW: In 1969, you played with in Dick Cavett’s TV show band in New York, yes?
LT: My friend, saxophonist Arnie Lawrence, and I were pretty close. He got me on a pop gig with trumpeter Doc Severinsen. So I did that, and then I was starting to do some subbing for guys in Doc’s Tonight Show band iwhen the show was still in New York. That was a wonderful experience. The band was really elegant. That led to subbing on Cavett as well. My annual income went from $4,000 $19,000.
JW: Rock, folk, country and jazz musicians moved to the West Coast in the late 1960s. This trend continued in the early '70s.
LT: Yes, including the Tonight Show, which moved out to Los Angeles in March 1972. My friend, bassist John B. Williams, who went out to L.A. with the band, said to me, “Man, why don't you come out here? I'm working all the time and it's really great.” I went on the Tonight Show band, and Doc Sevinson said, “Why don't you move out? I'll get you a certain amount of nights on the show." So I figured, why not do it?
JW: You reunited with Duke Pearson out there, yes?
LT: While I was out in L.A. with the Tonight Show, Duke wound up in L.A. and he had a lot of health problems. He wasn't doing too well. He decided to put together a band and wanted me to join. So I did his rehearsal and mostly all the other guys were L.A. studio players. It just didn’t sound like the music we had played in New York with Duke. It was technically correct, exactly as written. That's what, they do. In New York, we had interpreted the music and gave it a particular flavor. Each lead player would formulate the way we’d play things.
JW: When did you and Toshiko form your big band?
LT: In March 1973. She wrote all of the arrangements. In 1982, we returned to New York to play a concert at Avery Fisher Hall or some place. Attila came to our little party and said, “Hey man, tonight I came to hear you." Fifteen years later!
JW: You made three super albums with Donald Byrd in the late 1960s—Fancy Free (1969), and Kofi (1970) and Electric Bird, recorded in 1969 and ’70 but didn’t come out until 1995. They hold up well.
LT: That came through my my association with Duke Pearson. Donald Byrd had also been involved with Duke. Actually, it was originally Donald’s band. Duke took it over. Those albums were exciting for me to be involved in. Donald said to me, “Oh, I want you to play out. Play the flute. Play the flute, play outside." Whatever that meant. I did what I could do. Donald and I got along well.
JW: Your first leadership album was Let the Tape Roll, also released as Tabackin’, in 1974, right?
LT: That's right. It was recorded in Japan. I recorded it while we were on tour there with Toshiko, using Bob Dougherty on bass and Bill Goodwin on drums. It was my first trio album. I thought it was cool. When I listened to it, I was kind of disappointed.
JW: Why?
LT: You should never listen to something right after you record it. I think I expected more. But years later, it was cool. I was strongly influenced by Sonny Rollins, obviously. I just felt I had transcended it, in a certain way, but I wasn't sure I did. A friend of mine in England played it for Ronnie Scott after it came out, and he thought it was Sonny.
JW: And Day Dream in 1976?
LT: I had started to evolve. Obviously, I evolved over the years. A lot of people like my first recording with Duke, Introducing the Duke Pearson Big Band, but I began to come under the influence of John Coltrane, so my sound and concept was different. Then I kind of evolved into something better for me.
JW: Dual Nature with Shelly Manne in 1976 was also a good album. Abstract, but interesting. Also Trackin’ with Manne.
LT: Both were interesting. Shelly was a prince. He was great. He was a wonderful human being. A great drummer and musician, and he was amazing. I was fortunate in Los Angeles. I hated the scene there. I didn't like it. I couldn't feel the energy. Just a lack of energy. I never felt integrated. Most of the guys were studio players, and it's too sunny there. The lifestyle is too good. John Heard, a bassist, invited drummer Billy Higgins to my little place to play. After about five, six bars, artistically I felt at home. I started to play a lot with Billy and Shelly, so that saved me and forced me to create my own world, my own reality.
JW: Did you find it?
LT: I did. I found an approach that was personal and obviously not trendy. All my albums got five-star reviews by critics. One of them said, “Lew Tabackin, if he didn't look so professorial, he would be a promoter's dream, because he is on the cutting edge of retro pop." It’s a nice, interesting phrase, “the cutting edge of retro pop."
JW: What are your favorite albums from that period?
LT: I don't know. They all have good and bad moments.
JW: What about Tenor Gladness, with Warne Marsh?
LT: That was different. I thought it came out quite well, and I thought there should have been more interaction between us, but anyway, that's the way it turned out, and a lot of people liked it. Even Lee Konitz.
JW: Did you enjoy the big band you co-led with Toshiko?
LT: Of course. Yeah. I think we made some great music. When Toshiko and I moved back to New York in ‘82, we re-formed the band with Frank Wess and made some really great albums that were well-recorded. But they were on Japanese labels and unfortunately weren’t released here, so a lot of people didn't get a chance to hear some really special stuff.
JW: Toshiko never got her due
LT: Yeah. she's underappreciated, because there's a lot of preconceptions among jazz fans and players about women and Asian players. I remember when Duke Pearson heard one of her charts on the radio, he freaked out. He never realized how great she could write because he was into the same thing. “Oh, Japanese girl, what could it be? It could only be a copy of something."
JW: What are your favorite albums since the 1970s?
LT: One album that didn't get much attention that I thought it should have was Tenority. I recorded it because I was ticked off that musicians like me and Frank Wess, who could play the flute and tenor saxophone, were never fully appreciated or respected for each instrument separately. So I decided to make just a tenor saxophone album. Trumpeter Randy Brecker was on it and played really well, of course.
JW: Two others?
LT: As an entry point for our big band, the first live recording called Road Time (1976) might be a good start.
JW: What are you doing now?
LT: I'm busy touring and trying to get better. Art is a lifetime of self-improvement. I'm still concentrating on my trio, with Boris Kozlov on bass, and Jason Tiemann on drums. Your readers will probably enjoy my last trio album, Soundscapes, with Boris and Mark Taylor. I think that that's a good introduction to my trio concept.
JW: Anything new coming?
LT: I should record again, but these days it’s not the way it used to be. You have to do everything yourself, at least people like me do, otherwise, you risk the music not sounding the way you want it. Then there’s the issue of music here being free on streaming platforms. I can still sell CDs in Japan. People like to buy CDs there. Here, nobody does. Many people no longer have CD players.
JW: You’re extraordinary. Why do you think you aren’t a household name?
LT: I don't know. I mean, it could be a lot of things. Being associated with Toshiko and the big band had good parts and bad. The good part was I got a lot of exposure. People today still remember the band. The bad is that you get stereotyped in that situation. Your name is hooked to another name and you’re not thought of as a single identity. I always had my own identity, kind of, but I don't know what it is exactly. More important, listeners have lost their ears. Every album I’ve recorded on my own was critically praised. I never bragged about it. Now that I’m older, I do. It's a new generation of listeners out there, and it’s hard to figure out what they're looking for. I have to honk my own horn before it’s too late.
Lew will be making a rare live appearance on New York's Upper East Side at 92NY on Saturday, July 19, at 7:30 p.m. You can attend in-person at the cultural institution (starting at $40 per seat) or purchase an online ticket (starting at $20) and stream from anywhere in the world. His appearance is part of 92NY's annual Jazz in July Festival.
He will part of the Tenors of Our Time concert, featuring saxophonists Melissa Aldana, Chris Lewis, Walter Smith III and Lew Tabackin, backed by pianist and artistic director Aaron Diehl, bassist Yasushi Nakamura and drummer Kush Abadey.
Here's Part 2 of my recent interview with Lew. Tomorrow, I'll have 10 of my favorite clips:
Jazz Wax: How did you wind up with Maynard Ferguson and recording with the band on the album Ridin’ High in 1967?
Lew Tabackin: After the Calloway tour, I was playing in rehearsal bands when two friends, baritone saxophonist Joel Kaye and alto saxophonist Dick Spencer, recommended me. The experience was kind of mixed.
JW: How so?
LT: I never had any real big band experience nor had I wanted to play in one. Around this time, Maynard was beginning his quasi psychedelic jazz stuff on the road. My job on tenor was to freak out because I could do it, having played free jazz. The band’s personnel kept changing. Frank Vicari, who was next to me on tenor, was great. I developed a lot of appreciation for Frank. I recall Pepper Adams as well.
JW: Maynard had a heavy major mid-life crisis.
LT: He was a really warm, nice guy, but he was trying way too hard to become more popular with a younger crowd. Timothy Leary, the father of LSD, took over his life and it got kind of strange. In late 1967, Maynard planned an extensive tour of Europe the following year with the band's book of arrangements but had to use local players over there.
JW: You wound up with Duke Pearson, yes?
LT: Duke was important for me. I have no idea how we came together, but word got around and I started rehearsing with his band, which was like a family, sometimes a dysfunctional one. We really played his music in a special way. It was my main band.
JW: What was special about Duke?
LT: His writing was delicate and elegant. Then Frank Forster wrote some charts for the band that were more muscular. One time we did a gig at a club in New York, and Frank Forster's family was there. So Duke gave Frank more solos than I had, and he apologized after. I said, “You don't have to apologize." Duke was so respectful and sensitive. The opposite was the case in the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Band. Thad was a trumpet and arranging giant, but never gave much thought to soloists in the band. He just had the band played the charts he wanted to play. One time Pepper Adams sent him up a note that said, “Play me or trade me." We had played an entire night and Pepper didn’t have a single solo. And he was once of the best.
JW: Around this time you also played with the Clark Terry All-Stars Band, yes
LT: That's right. I began playing with Clark Terry in small groups and then his big band. He was a remarkable player and a great guy. Don Friedman was on piano. I wound up with the All-Stars not because I was an all-star but because I was hanging out at the right time at Jim and Andy's, the famous Manhattan musician's bar.
JW: What happened?
LT: Everyone hung out in there between recording sessions or to network. It was on 48th St., just west of Sixth Avenue. The day I was there, Zoot Sims was there. I always had my tenor with me. Zoot said, “Hey man, Clark's rehearsing this band and I don't feel like doing it. Why don't you go?" So I went and got a chair along with Phil Woods, Frank Wess and Danny Bank.
JW: Was it a one shot?
LT: It could have been. I kept showing up at Jim and Andy's the following week and the same thing happened, Zoot passed and I got the gig. After four or five times, Phil Woods finally said to me, “I don't think Zoot wants to do this. You may as well do it since you've been rehearsing.” That's how I became one of the All-Stars.
JW: How did you meet pianist Toshiko Akiyoshi?
LT: Clark’s band was playing at New York’s Half Note when pianist Don Friedman couldn’t make it one night. Clark's manager brought in Toshiko to play the piano. She was getting ready to do a big Town Hall concert celebrating her 10th year in New York. Clark called a blues in D-flat. I'd been working really hard at that point trying to absorb a lot more elements into my playing. Toshiko was really was impressed by my playing.
JW: What happened next?
LT: Tenor saxophonist Joe Farrell was supposed to play her Town Hall concert but cancelled. So she called her manager and said, “I found the saxophonist I want to replace Joe." I took the gig but then I had to cancel because I had to go on the road with Clark. Toshiko and I started to do some small-group gigs. That's how we met, became a couple and married in 1969.
JW: Before you married, the quintet recorded Toshiko at Top of the Gate, in 1968.
LT: That was one of my first standout recordings. Kenny Dorham was on it, too, of course, my former jam-session judge. He remembered me. He said, “Man, you've come a long way." Which was nice. He was a really good guy and wonderful player.
JW: You recorded three Blue Note albums with Duke Pearson. Two were released in the late 1960s and the third didn’t come out until 1996. There were live recordings, too.
LT: I started with Duke in 1967. We recorded Introducing Duke Pearson’s Big Band. It was tough on the road. Duke Pearson tried to get me a record contract, but jazz recording opportunities were drying up on labels.
JW: In 1969, you played with in Dick Cavett’s TV show band in New York, yes?
LT: My friend, saxophonist Arnie Lawrence, and I were pretty close. He got me on a pop gig with trumpeter Doc Severinsen. So I did that, and then I was starting to do some subbing for guys in Doc’s Tonight Show band iwhen the show was still in New York. That was a wonderful experience. The band was really elegant. That led to subbing on Cavett as well. My annual income went from $4,000 $19,000.
JW: Rock, folk, country and jazz musicians moved to the West Coast in the late 1960s. This trend continued in the early '70s.
LT: Yes, including the Tonight Show, which moved out to Los Angeles in March 1972. My friend, bassist John B. Williams, who went out to L.A. with the band, said to me, “Man, why don't you come out here? I'm working all the time and it's really great.” I went on the Tonight Show band, and Doc Sevinson said, “Why don't you move out? I'll get you a certain amount of nights on the show." So I figured, why not do it?
JW: You reunited with Duke Pearson out there, yes?
LT: While I was out in L.A. with the Tonight Show, Duke wound up in L.A. and he had a lot of health problems. He wasn't doing too well. He decided to put together a band and wanted me to join. So I did his rehearsal and mostly all the other guys were L.A. studio players. It just didn’t sound like the music we had played in New York with Duke. It was technically correct, exactly as written. That's what, they do. In New York, we had interpreted the music and gave it a particular flavor. Each lead player would formulate the way we’d play things.
JW: When did you and Toshiko form your big band?
LT: In March 1973. She wrote all of the arrangements. In 1982, we returned to New York to play a concert at Avery Fisher Hall or some place. Attila came to our little party and said, “Hey man, tonight I came to hear you." Fifteen years later!
JW: You made three super albums with Donald Byrd in the late 1960s—Fancy Free (1969), and Kofi (1970) and Electric Bird, recorded in 1969 and ’70 but didn’t come out until 1995. They hold up well.
LT: That came through my my association with Duke Pearson. Donald Byrd had also been involved with Duke. Actually, it was originally Donald’s band. Duke took it over. Those albums were exciting for me to be involved in. Donald said to me, “Oh, I want you to play out. Play the flute. Play the flute, play outside." Whatever that meant. I did what I could do. Donald and I got along well.
JW: Your first leadership album was Let the Tape Roll, also released as Tabackin’, in 1974, right?
LT: That's right. It was recorded in Japan. I recorded it while we were on tour there with Toshiko, using Bob Dougherty on bass and Bill Goodwin on drums. It was my first trio album. I thought it was cool. When I listened to it, I was kind of disappointed.
JW: Why?
LT: You should never listen to something right after you record it. I think I expected more. But years later, it was cool. I was strongly influenced by Sonny Rollins, obviously. I just felt I had transcended it, in a certain way, but I wasn't sure I did. A friend of mine in England played it for Ronnie Scott after it came out, and he thought it was Sonny.
JW: And Day Dream in 1976?
LT: I had started to evolve. Obviously, I evolved over the years. A lot of people like my first recording with Duke, Introducing the Duke Pearson Big Band, but I began to come under the influence of John Coltrane, so my sound and concept was different. Then I kind of evolved into something better for me.
JW: Dual Nature with Shelly Manne in 1976 was also a good album. Abstract, but interesting. Also Trackin’ with Manne.
LT: Both were interesting. Shelly was a prince. He was great. He was a wonderful human being. A great drummer and musician, and he was amazing. I was fortunate in Los Angeles. I hated the scene there. I didn't like it. I couldn't feel the energy. Just a lack of energy. I never felt integrated. Most of the guys were studio players, and it's too sunny there. The lifestyle is too good. John Heard, a bassist, invited drummer Billy Higgins to my little place to play. After about five, six bars, artistically I felt at home. I started to play a lot with Billy and Shelly, so that saved me and forced me to create my own world, my own reality.
JW: Did you find it?
LT: I did. I found an approach that was personal and obviously not trendy. All my albums got five-star reviews by critics. One of them said, “Lew Tabackin, if he didn't look so professorial, he would be a promoter's dream, because he is on the cutting edge of retro pop." It’s a nice, interesting phrase, “the cutting edge of retro pop."
JW: What are your favorite albums from that period?
LT: I don't know. They all have good and bad moments.
JW: What about Tenor Gladness, with Warne Marsh?
LT: That was different. I thought it came out quite well, and I thought there should have been more interaction between us, but anyway, that's the way it turned out, and a lot of people liked it. Even Lee Konitz.
JW: Did you enjoy the big band you co-led with Toshiko?
LT: Of course. Yeah. I think we made some great music. When Toshiko and I moved back to New York in ‘82, we re-formed the band with Frank Wess and made some really great albums that were well-recorded. But they were on Japanese labels and unfortunately weren’t released here, so a lot of people didn't get a chance to hear some really special stuff.
JW: Toshiko never got her due
LT: Yeah. she's underappreciated, because there's a lot of preconceptions among jazz fans and players about women and Asian players. I remember when Duke Pearson heard one of her charts on the radio, he freaked out. He never realized how great she could write because he was into the same thing. “Oh, Japanese girl, what could it be? It could only be a copy of something."
JW: What are your favorite albums since the 1970s?
LT: One album that didn't get much attention that I thought it should have was Tenority. I recorded it because I was ticked off that musicians like me and Frank Wess, who could play the flute and tenor saxophone, were never fully appreciated or respected for each instrument separately. So I decided to make just a tenor saxophone album. Trumpeter Randy Brecker was on it and played really well, of course.
JW: Two others?
LT: As an entry point for our big band, the first live recording called Road Time (1976) might be a good start.
JW: What are you doing now?
LT: I'm busy touring and trying to get better. Art is a lifetime of self-improvement. I'm still concentrating on my trio, with Boris Kozlov on bass, and Jason Tiemann on drums. Your readers will probably enjoy my last trio album, Soundscapes, with Boris and Mark Taylor. I think that that's a good introduction to my trio concept.
JW: Anything new coming?
LT: I should record again, but these days it’s not the way it used to be. You have to do everything yourself, at least people like me do, otherwise, you risk the music not sounding the way you want it. Then there’s the issue of music here being free on streaming platforms. I can still sell CDs in Japan. People like to buy CDs there. Here, nobody does. Many people no longer have CD players.
JW: You’re extraordinary. Why do you think you aren’t a household name?
LT: I don't know. I mean, it could be a lot of things. Being associated with Toshiko and the big band had good parts and bad. The good part was I got a lot of exposure. People today still remember the band. The bad is that you get stereotyped in that situation. Your name is hooked to another name and you’re not thought of as a single identity. I always had my own identity, kind of, but I don't know what it is exactly. More important, listeners have lost their ears. Every album I’ve recorded on my own was critically praised. I never bragged about it. Now that I’m older, I do. It's a new generation of listeners out there, and it’s hard to figure out what they're looking for. I have to honk my own horn before it’s too late.
This story appears courtesy of JazzWax by Marc Myers.
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