Russell Gunn: No Safety Net, No Overdubs, Just Pure and Original

AAJ: The next one is "All of You," the Gershwin tune.

RG: That one was always for me. Now, if you asked me what the core progressions are to "All of You," I couldn't tell you at all. The only way I play on the song is the exact same way Miles played on "All of You." It's really diatonic in E and I don't even know what it's based on. It's just based on —what's the word I'm looking for?—just not doing too much, letting it breathe, letting it go by, and melodically, for lack of a better word, just picking your spaces. And that's the beauty of that song to me, because it doesn't start on the root. I think the first chord is something else. When I would listen to them play on it, I was like, damn. it sounds like they're starting by setting it up, which is, I don't know any other way to put it. It's like before I knew anything about chord progressions or chord structures when I was listening to the song. It's such a great tune lyrically.

AAJ: George Gershwin's brother Ira wrote the lyrics. "Round Midnight" follows. I dig that sultry into and verse with just trumpet and brushes before the piano comes in.

RG: The only thing I did different that particular night was I played the intro, the way the intro was supposed to be played anyway, because most of the time, 99% of the time I play it verbatim how Miles played it on Round Midnight (Columbia, 1957). Because for me, that's the only tune that kind of off limits you trying to do anything different with because I respect the beauty of it so much. I mean in his intro, he just says, "de-di-de... de-du." Man, that's just the craziest shit. The only thing that I find more interesting than Miles playing "Round Midnight" is on Miles Davis Relaxing (Relaxin' with the Miles Davis Quintet —Prestige, 1958) when he plays "You Are My Everything."

Because on the recordings, you hear the studio chatter before they start to play. And Miles is kind of being a dick, I think it's Red Garland playing this intro, "thwin-uh-blidyuh," and then Miles goes "whissshew," whistles all loud and shit, like "black chord, Red, I need you to play black chords. And then you could hear, I guess it's Van Gelder in the background saying, "Here we go, Miles," and then Red plays "dung-ding-dun-dun, ding-din-do-do-dah Cling! Clunk-clunk-clunk," and Miles said (in high register) dih-dih-dih do-do -dee-do," the most beautiful shit of all time in just 20 seconds before he was being a complete asshole. Oh my God, I can't believe this. So that's why I love that song.

AAJ: Then you play Dizzy Gillespie's "Two Bass Hit." I think John Lewis co-wrote.

RG: Oh, man, "Two Bass Hit," I mean, that's a tune nobody plays. Number one, nobody really likes to play "Two Bass Hit" because it's a blues after the melody, but the blues is in D, which a lot of people don't like to mess with. But the melody, John Lewis? I think so. Another thing I found fascinating about Miles at the Blackhawk was not just "Two Bass Hit," but on other recordings he would play those tunes from way fucking back, like "Sweet Sue" that people didn't even play at the time that he was playing music. He would pick those really, really, really old tunes that he probably played with Bird or he heard when he was a kid growing up, even though we all know that Miles made the conscious decision to change his approach when he figured out that he couldn't be Dizzy when he was playing with Bird. But still, sometimes he would play tunes cause that's what Dizzy and them used to do, that "Two Bass Hit." I still think that he wanted to kind of prove to himself that he could do those things.

AAJ: Didn't Miles come from your town, East St. Louis?

RG: Oh yeah. He's an East St. Louis guy. Same high school as a matter of fact. Different generation though. I think he was born in '29 ('26—ed). I was born in '71.

AAJ: Was Mr. Carter a fan of Miles?

RG: Mr. Carter loved Miles before he was Miles. I never got to meet Miles, not one day. But before I was of high school age, there were a few occasions that Miles went to the high school and Mr. Carter introduced him to the kids. I'm sure it was great for them. I never got to experience that. But whenever he would be back in town, he had a brother, one of his brothers looked just like him. His name was Vernon, and he lived in the area around the high school. I would see him all the time. And if a relative died or something, he would come home for a funeral around the time when he was married to Cicely Tyson. But that was still before I was even in high school.

AAJ: I wanted to talk about some of your other projects a little bit. Royal Krunk Jazz Orkestra is a contemporary big band. Is it a trilogy you're doing there? Started off with the ancient Dogan sacred symbols. I read a little from a guy named Laird Scranton. He talks about advanced science and hieroglyphics. It sounds to me a lot like astrology.

RG: I'm actually in the process of orchestrating it for a full symphony, all the parts. It started out as a trilogy, but it might just wind up being a two-parter because the third part, I think, stands on its own as something else. We did the third part at the Apollo Theater and also once at Symphony Hall in Atlanta. But I haven't recorded it yet. But the first two parts —The Sirius Mystery (Get It How You Live) and Pyramids —probably stand on their own, together I mean. What they are conceptually is —well, the third part is called Valley of Dry Bones.

AAJ: The Sirius Mystery is a book by Robert Temple about aliens who lived here 5000 years ago.

RG: But the Sirius Mystery is not really about aliens. It's about, well ... I guess you could say aliens. It's about the knowledge of the star, Sirius B, which wasn't visible to any kind of modern technology until very recent times. But the Dogon, their whole system is based on the belief that knowledge existed. Just a few years ago with modern technology and a telescope powerful enough to see, oh yeah, that shit is there. Wow!

Anyway, basically the trilogy takes place in three completely different times of the Pan-African people. And the time differences are so vast, that's why they deserve three separate parts. Of course, the first is the Sirius Mystery, which deals with those things. And then the second one is Pyramids. like Egyptology pyramids, but not just in Egypt, the pyramids that are all over the world. During that time, the Sirius Mystery is already ancient to the time of pyramids. And the third part, Valley of Dry Bones is about now, in which the pyramids are ancient. So, without going into too much detail about what they all are, those are the time spaces.

AAJ: There was a quote from the Book of Ezekiel, "They say our bones are dried up and our hope is gone. We are cut off." The book of Ezekiel is a prophecy about God will do spiritual things. It's bringing people back from the bones, which is like a vision that God can resurrect you through the bones. He can give life to what's dead and inanimate. Is this going anywhere near Valley of Dry Bones?"

RG: Basically, what it deals with is a people that have died, not just physically died, but mentally died, mentally cut off from what they really are and being resurrected from that. It's not necessarily about reanimating a body, it's about reanimating your mind and understanding who you are and where you came from and those things that made you great in the first place before they were lost to antiquity.

AAJ: Dionne Farris sang with you on those albums. She also recorded Dionne Get Your Gunn with you, another live album.

RG: She is a great vocalist for sure.

AAJ: So, Pan-African is a mystery to me for the most part. Could you explain it in the context of your trilogy?

RG: Well, Pan-African is a nice way to say the descendants of Africans that were spread out during the transatlantic slave trade. So, if you're from Bahia, Brazil, Savannah, Georgia, wherever, all those are Pan. That's a Pan-African. Your consciousness needs to be in lockstep with each other because you come from the same place. It's just being spread out, which is sometimes a blessing and a curse. There's so much beauty that comes from Afro-Brazilian or Afro-Cuban or Afro-American culture. Even though they have been dispersed in all of these different places, they all have the same root. You could hear and more, you could feel that same root in Afro-Cuban music and African-American music. You could always feel what the root of it is, and being a Pan-African is that.

AAJ: What will the size of your orchestra be, 19, 20, 21 musicians?

RG: Something like that. Probably more.

AAJ: One of my questions was asking you about classical music and the relation of a large jazz orchestra to a classical music orchestra. But you've already told me you're going to adapt it for a classical orchestra. Are they fairly similar in some ways?

RG: They're symphonic in a way, I guess. But you're talking to somebody who's had absolutely zero training in composition and arranging, I learned all this shit on my own because I wanted to. So, I'm still learning a lot, and I've made a lot of mistakes. I've had people looking up at me from the bandstand saying like, what the fuck is this? Why is this note way up here? So, I'm still learning, but fundamentally, music is music. But with a jazz orchestra, which I guess is a fancy way of saying a big band. I mean, there are smaller differences. There's things harmonically you can get away with in a smaller ensemble than you can with the symphony. I mean, your harmony can't be too close or things like that. Without trying to get too technical about the differences.

AAJ: One of the things that draws me to your music is the melodies are recognizable. There's an attention to it in the compositions. When the melody is gone completely, it becomes hard to develop an appreciation.

RG: My main thing is melody. If the shit doesn't have a melody to me, it's not a fucking song. It's just grooving. The rhythm. Yeah, it's just grooving. Which is cool, too, if that's what your intent is. For me, if a song doesn't have, not just a clearly recognizable melody but a clearly interesting melody, then I don't really have any use for it as a song. That's one of the only things that the generation now does that I don't like, having a lack of melody, just grooving and you know, you could play on it. You could play on that shit and it's cool. But if there's no top and no bottom and no melody, well, what have you really got?

AAJ: Like, guys, here's the key and off we go?

RG: Yeah, that's it. I mean, even Miles in the '70s when it was mostly like that, there was always a little something at the top, but not much. And that's a reason that a lot of people didn't like that either, because it may just be a little "blah! Blah-da-dum" and then it's 20 minutes of "doom-tika-doom-tika" I do myself.

AAJ: A lot of critics say Russell Gunn is incorporating hip hop into jazz. And, of course, in the Blackhawk record, we're not hearing any hip hop. What do you have to say about that?

RG: That's some of my other music. Live at the Velvet Note doesn't have anything to do with that. In my other music, yeah, I've done that a lot. Check the timeline. My record Ethnomusicology: Volume One came out in 1998, which predates most everything that you would consider in that genre of mixing or not mixing or combining hip hop and jazz. It's a different music, just like what we've been talking about. Afro-Cuban and Afro-Brazilian music, its different, but it's still all coming from the same place. It's just a little different rhythmically. But all of my efforts always are melody first and groove second.

I think if you want to talk about that question of what jazz is and what is jazz. To me, the only thing that really changes or can change about quote unquote jazz is the rhythmic part of it. The way we improvise, the language we use to improvise, all of this shit is the same. It's still Charlie Parker with alterations. It's still Louis Armstrong with some minor Dizzy Gillespie with some minor alterations. And there's been very few innovations to that. I mean, Woody Shaw, Kenny Garrett's approach. There's very few things that deviate from Charlie Parker's language, which is the root of what we all use to improvise if you listen closely.

AAJ: Hip hop basically starts with rhythm, doesn't it? With bass and drum. That's what you hear first.

RG: First of all, hip hop is a word that I don't even fucking understand. I don't even know what it means, quite honestly. And then I think it gets lost. I think a lot of things get lost when you lump everything into that word. Now hip hop has a specific thing that is culturally based, and it has components to it. There's the street dancing, which was break dancing, the graffiti, which was the art, the music, which was rap, and the way we dressed, which was the cultural element. All of those things combined to make up what hip hop is. So, one thing doesn't make something hip hop. You understand what I'm sayin'?

AAJ: The picture is getting clearer.

RG: Okay, so if you call every rap song a hip hop song, it's not correct. You can't do that because it could be a rap song and not be no fucking hip hop. It could be completely opposite of what the culture is supposed to be about. You understand what I'm sayin'? But that's the conundrum we find ourselves in because it's labeled as such. If it's rap, it's labeled as hip hop, which now means that hip hop is this and it's really not. So, if the song is some bullshit with some lyrics about nonsense that doesn't have anything to do with uplifting anything, it's still labeled and lumped into what we originated, which is not that. So that's why that whole hip hop shit, it's loaded. It's very loaded. I mean, it's almost exactly like jazz. I mean, you see everything is jazz. Jazz festivals that only have r&b from the fucking '80s; jazz festivals that have zero rhythmic component of swing. I mean, anything can be in a jazz festival. And that's bullshit.

AAJ: You see the same thing at folk festivals, even rock festivals. I mean, any type of music could be called folk music, but it's not really.

RG: That's very true. And I don't know much about folk music festivals, but I'm sure somewhere there's somebody saying, who the fuck is this at the folk music thing? Why are they here?

AAJ: You've traveled all over the world playing music, which when you were growing up, maybe it seemed incomprehensible. That's the way it turned out. What has all that travel given you for a perspective on modern life?

RG: The main thing is that most people don't understand other people. The easiest way to hate people is not to be able to communicate with people. Language is a big part of that, not understanding each other's languages. But being able to travel at such a young age up until the age that I am now, and getting to see things and getting to see the world change right before my eyes is the greatest thing that could have ever happened to me. I've gotten to sit, drink, laugh with people that in a million years I would have never thought that I would be around, let alone be friends with, stay in communication with, even learn some words in their language.

To me, that's the most important thing for understanding. I know it's impossible for most people, that kind of traveling. I get to do it because of what I do for a living. I know this for a fact, if it was possible for everybody to travel, the world would be a completely different place. People could understand each other and go into each person's thing with an open mind. The first time I went to Africa —you know who Ronnie Burrage is, the great drummer from St. Louis? —he was there with me, and we got invited to the promoter's house. This was my very first time in Africa and there was this big spread of food. At the time I was a vegetarian. I'm vegan now, but then I was just vegetarian. I remember trying to figure out a nice way to say that I can't eat this, I can't eat that. And I was scared. I didn't want to offend anybody. Most people, you don't even think about offending by saying you can't eat that. You know what I mean? I didn't want to offend anybody. I learned that shit from Mr. Carter, how to be nice, how to be cool around people. And I remember when I finally got up the nerve to say I was a vegetarian, and I wouldn't eat the chicken and the fish, anything. And they were so cool about it. I was like, man, I thought they were going to just be like, oh, who is this guy? Well, people are cool. And even my friends in Belgium, my friends in France, my friends in Japan, man, having friends in places, remote places is the best thing that could ever happen to a person to understand people. I don't even know if that answers the question.

AAJ: It does, definitely. Looking at your Facebook page, you can start to figure things out, like where it says Russell Gunn, the Truth Seeker, and in another place, my name is Mtafuta Ukweli and I seek truth. What does that name mean?

RG: Truth seeker. That's all it means. It's the same thing.

AAJ: How's that been working for you? Any luck seeking truth?

RG: I think so. I mean, I think any education worth something is self-education. I don't think you can rely on any formal education for anything, quite honestly. I think somebody can only point you in a direction, and you take it from there. You have to be your own research library, your own judgment of facts. Open yourself up to possibilities and alternatives that deep down inside ring true. Turn yourself off from shit that deep down inside is not true or doesn't make sense.

AAJ: So, seeking people that are truthful or true to themselves?

RG: And that's a really hard thing to do because everybody, no, most everybody has an angle, not an angle to hustle anybody, but everybody comes from somewhere where they've been taught a certain way. And once you get to a certain age, it's easier just to deal with what you've been taught and go with that even though you know that shit doesn't make any sense. I have friends that I argue with, well ... I don't even argue because my facts are facts. I'm like, man, look at this right here. Look, this is a map. That shit couldn't have been. They say, yeah, man, but the Bible says or blah blah blah. Okay, I'm not going to argue what you learned and what you're going to stick with. I just want you to observe factual things. And to me that's the real freedom.

AAJ: On the new record, your band is Terreon Gully (drums), Kevin Smith (bass) and Louis Heriveaux (piano). Why is Kevin called "Raw Dog?"

RG: (laughing) I gave him that name so long ago, and I don't even know why. He probably was doing something that made me think about it. Oh, there was an episode of a TV show, a Martin Lawrence show called "Martin," where he was a boxer. Well, he wasn't a boxer, but he was trying to box, he was trying to box Tommy Hearns, and he was calling himself the Raw Dog. And for some reason, Kevin reminded me of something like that, and I started calling him Raw dog.

AAJ: We spoke about your major influences in music but haven't mentioned Benny Golson.

RG: Yeah, yeah. He's always been one of my heroes, a true legend and one whose recordings I studied like it was the Bar exam. One of the greatest experiences I have ever had as a musician was to know that my playing made Benny Golson smile. I remember that day. I was standing on the side of the stage and the drummer was like, man, go get your horn. I was like, man, no, I'm not going to go get my horn. Benny Golson doesn't know me like that. He was like, man, I'm telling you, just go get it. Donald Harrison also was playing in the band, so I said, you know what? Fuck it. I'm going to get my horn. If he tells me to fuck off, then okay. But he would never do that. He was the nicest man that ever lived. And they were playing some classic Jazz Messenger song. I can't remember exactly what it was, but all the way back to when I first started playing, when him and Lee Morgan went into Messengers together, I knew that shit. So, I went in, I got on, and I just kept trying to do the best I could. And then when I saw him smiling, I was like, man, I can't even believe it. He could have just been generally smiling, but I was getting out of it what I put into it. I was a "Cat" and that's literally all I ever wanted.

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