All language subtitles for grrr

- Is that balance good, Rob?
- Yeah.

Motif down more.

You go, too.
When you cue your bridge,

you can solo through that
while Marcus plays the melody.

OK.

And maybe
the second time around,

if you want, you can jump in
on the melody if you want.

I'll play it once or twice and
then you can pick up.

Cool.

We put together a Blue Note
super group with Robert Glasper,

Ambrose Akinmusire,

Marcus Strickland,

Lionel Loueke,

Kendrick Scott

and Derrick Hodge.

I was at the first show they
played at Monterey Jazz Festival

for the 75th anniversary.

It was music that...

It had a sound to it, you know,
that sounded like Blue Note.

Blue Note has a history
of so many amazing artists

that have recorded
on that label.

Every great pianist
has recorded on that label!

But what I try to do
is not think about that

when I'm trying to do my thing

because it could be
so intimidating.

Blue Note, to me,
is a label of innovators,

of game changers.

If you really chart the history
of Blue Note Records,

every decade, the artists
that they signed to the label

turned the music world
upside down.

Those artists reflect the times
and what's going on.

As soon as I put on the record,
I'm just transported

to a certain time
or a certain feeling

or a certain understanding
of the world.

Blue Note caught
what Bud Powell was doing,

it caught a lot of stuff
that Miles was doing.

- It caught their humanity...
- Yeah.

...that's within the music,
and hope and freedom.

A lot of the artists that found
their home at Blue Note,

understood that we all had
the survival situation,

survival in common, and that
came out through their music.

On the surface, you hear
an amazing musician performing.

But the fight,
the internal struggle,

that familiar way of fighting
through the instrument.

Later on, when my generation
hears it, like,

"Wow, why does this feel
like we own it?"

"Why does it speak to me
in such a way?"

OK, you ready?

The one thing
that all the greats did was

never let go of who they are,

never turn away from who
they are and their experiences.

'Cause your experience and what
you've been through in your life

makes you sound
the way you sound.

Most of the great art comes out
of messed-up situations.

You just need something

to be released from that,
to go somewhere.

That's where jazz is
born out of.

Hip hop was born out of that.

So that's what we have
to still do today.

Nowadays, with what's going on
in the world,

I think it's forcing people
to tap into that realness,

that experience
really right from there.

A lot of this music has to do
with how we feel about America

and how we came
from seeming to progress

to going back to an era
that we fought to get away from.

A lot of that feeling,
that kind of frustration,

some of that's in the music,

along with
all the hopeful stuff.

The music is only a tool
to express what's inside.

Being an African-American,

the music itself was
a special statement

and it is a special statement.

To me, jazz represents freedom
in two different kind of ways.

You can be an individual
inside of the music,

but still helping
with the whole.

That's a fade, anyway.

Whoo!

Let's do one more.

And this time, when you cue
your bridge...

Take 22.

23. Take 23.

You're listening to
the 'Scope of Jazz' on WBAI FM

and our guests tonight are
Al Lion and Frank Wolff

of Blue Note Records.

First of all, Al,
the usual opening question,

the genesis
of your own beginnings

as someone interested in jazz?

It happened in about 1926,
in Berlin, Germany.

My mother brought a record home

and I was very much impressed
with what I heard,

not knowing that it was jazz
or what it was all about.

But I got very interested
in the record.

And, Frank, what was
your parallel experience?

- When did you first hear jazz?
- In Berlin.

And my recollection is that
I liked the music tremendously,

but I didn't understand it
I couldn't follow it.

But 1 just liked it.

Well, they both came over
from Europe.

They were boyhood friends and...

once, or twice maybe,

yes, they went back to
those times and why they left.

They referred to
what it was like.

Twice they mentioned it,
in all that time I knew them.

And it was just brief mentions.

They were looking for freedom,
of course.

You had to be a fool
to have ignored that.

That's why they understood,

gave so many cats a chance.

And cats gave them a chance
as well. Trusting them.

I felt the music.

And not knowing, actually,
what made me feel it

It must have been the beat and
the way the music came about,

came across to me.

And I was so impressed that
I felt I would like to go out

and make some records myself
with them.

- For your own enjoyment?
- For my own enjoyment, yes.

That's how it started.

They were fans.
They were rabid fans.

I think they were just records
that they wanted to hear,

so they decided
they were going to make them.

And they didn't know anything
about making records.

And I don't think they ever lost
the purity

and the innocence
that came with it.

I think that they understood
the value

of trusting in the musicians.

One nice summer afternoon
we cut the first sides.

It was a very relaxed session.

Nobody watched the time

and the boys had a chance
to stretch out.

Any record we ever made, we were
never really figuring on a hit.

If later it became successful,

it just happened
to become successful.

We didn't make the record with
that intention, to make a hit.

Alfred Lion and Frank Wolff,
they were hearing this music,

not only as music
but as a valued treasure.

I think the question from
other record companies was,

"Why would someone
start a record company

not to make money?"

Yeah, Alfred and Frank,
they never...

I never got a sense of pressure
from them

to create in any particular way

other than
whatever might come out of me.

What they were searching for
was to get the heart

of the individuals
creating the music

to have a platform
for expression.

And that heart
is affected by the times.

Because we were living in it!

Alfred Lion and Frank Wolff
and Rudy Van Gelder,

they were trying to support
the goal we were always seeking,

which is to allow the music
to emerge

without being shackled.

Oh, all the record companies
were white.

Until they started later:

Motown, Stax Records
out of Memphis,

but all the record companies
were white.

Cheap, cheap white, too.

They was a bunch of scoundrels.

I should name them, but I won't.

But not Alfred.
Alfred was not like that.

He just let us do
what we wanted to do

and if he had a suggestion,
he might come around,

say one or two things, cos...

he didn't know that much
about music.

And he didn't bother musicians.

He respected everybody.

He was a nice, nice person.

Frank, too.
Frank was nice. Very nice.

Frank would be walking around
taking photos,

but when the music got good,
he started dancing.

Trying to dance.

And I loved 'em, both of 'em.

And they loved me. I'd take
my family down there, you know,

and all of them got
very friendly.

Yeah, this is Thelonious Monk.

This is one
of the 1951 sessions.

And it featured
Kenny Dorham on trumpet

and Lou Donaldson on sax.

Through the years, Alfred Lion
and Francis Wolff developed

a lot of very strong friendships
among the musicians

and I remember
Bobby Hutcherson saying,

"You know, they never seemed
like outsiders.

They didn't play an instrument,
they had heavy German accents,

but they were just one of us,
they hung with us,

they'd always go out and hear
music, eat with the guys,

and hang out with the guys."

And they were very well accepted
by the musicians.

Of course, it was a slow start.

They didn't make any money
for years.

It was a hand-to-mouth
existence.

Without Alfred, I probably
wouldn't be sitting here myself.

Cos I was just a little country
boy, coming to New York.

I was playing at Minton's
in 1949, and he came by.

He had lke Quebec with him,
his right-hand guy,

he heard me playing,

and asked me if I wanted
to record for Blue Note.

And I don't know
what he expected me to say,

a young guy with no money.

So I said, "Of course."

And he asked me, could I play
like Charlie Parker?

And, of course, I told him yes.

But I knew I couldn't.
I wanted a record date.

And Alfred was lucky because
he had Ike Quebec to help him.

Ike was telling him.
lke was a smart guy

who brought a lot of people
to the company.

He knew when you could play
and when you couldn't.

If somebody come along
who couldn't play,

they wouldn't record it.

Let me straighten it out!

Everybody else felt
everything all right.

OK, nobody but me.
I'm asking you this, man.

- I don't know what you felt!
- At the end of the channel.

Take, uh, 7.

7, 7, 7.

We had gotten to the point where
Al, for his own entertainment,

had recorded the three
boogie-woogie piano players,

Ammons, Johnson and Lewis.
Whom did you record after that?

Next was Bechet and Art Hodes,
Edmond Hall.

And we kept making
Dixieland records

and slowly drifted over
info the swing

and from there into the modern,
info the bop.

Within 10 years,

they'd decided
they were gonna go into bebop.

And, of all the artists
they could have chosen,

they chose Thelonious Monk, who
was kind of taking stride piano

and turning it inside out,

just bringing in
these crazy chord voicings

and who totally revolutionised
the nature of jazz composition.

And they got behind him.

When did Monk record for you
first?

1947.

And Monk never made
any records before.

What was the reaction
to your first Monk recordings?

The reaction was mixed.
Some liked him very much

and some thought
he was terrible.

Monk played his own music.
Monk played his own music.

And he should be put
in that category. Monk's music.

He was an outstanding guy.

He had his own way of playing
and it was different.

It was kinda hard
to play with him,

but if you played with him
a while,

you got used to his playing.

Any preference on your part
for the solo order?

We'll see how it's going.
OK?

Where you see a nice place
for you to go in,

then you pick your spot
and blow, pick it.

He never said much,
but I'd ask him questions.

"Is that right?"
He said, "Yes, it's all right."

But he would never come over
and say, "You're playing wrong,

you're doing that."

You just had to try to follow
what he was doing,

which was very hard to do
at that time.

Everybody wanted to play
with him

and try to learn
what he was doing.

He always had a certain style
about him,

a certain vibe about him.

He has his own thing and doesn't
waver from his own thing.

So, in my mind, Monk is
the first hip-hop pianist.

Cos nobody in jazz has swag
like Monk.

He let me know at a young age
that it's OK to be myself.

Not caring what the next man say
or sound like,

doing you,
this is your testimony,

standing up for you cos
that's what hip hop is about.

Unapologetic, too.

Be who you are
cos he was who he was.

He wrote some of our classic
songs that we still play.

I'm still puzzled at the times
he wrote these songs like...

"Epistrophy."

And then something as groovy
and funky as "Blue Monk".

"Trinkle Tinkle."

"Round Midnight."

Alfred loved Monk.

I'd go to the office
and every time I went,

I'd see Monk
and his wife Nellie.

In fact, I thought Monk worked
there. He stayed there so much.

Evidently, Alfred
was supporting him.

Alfred developed such a passion
for Monk's music

that he recorded
four lengthy recording sessions

before he even put out
the first 78.

He was just so obsessed
with Monk's music.

Of course, as luck would have
it, Monk didn't sell at all.

Most people didn't understand
the music,

so it got a lot of resistance.

And Alfred stayed with Monk
for about five years,

then he just sort of had
to let it go

because he had sunk
so much money into it

and it was jeopardising
the label.

But Alfred was that way.

He would stand behind
what he believed in,

even if it wasn't selling.

He'd take it as far as he could.

Without Blue Note, you probably
would have never heard of Monk.

Cos the other companies
like Columbia and Capitol,

and those big companies,
they wouldn't record Monk.

He was around.
They wouldn't record him.

But Alfred did.

Alfred recorded
a lot of bebop music.

Bud Powell
and those kind of players.

And that's what really made it.

Alfred just really embraced
this new music

and learned about the new music,

then he started recording
with 2 passion

when he made those
first sessions of Bud Powell.

This next Powell recording

has been one
of his most influential.

I know young pianists talk about
this more than any other Powell.

What was the date
of "Poco Loco"?

- May 51.
- Bud Powell.

[ Remember it was
a pretty frantic session.

And Bud definitely wanted
to record a certain way.

He made one take
and he made another one.

Still we didn't get
where we wanted to.

It took a little while.

Bud Powell meant a great deal
to Alfred,

personally as well as musically.

He did his very first session
in 1949

and he recorded him until 1958.

Bud Powell was
instantly recognised,

first by musicians,
but then by the audience.

Bud Powell, was he
a difficult man to record?

He wasn't difficult to record.
He just had his days, you know?

But we were always very lucky
with Bud Powell.

! think it's more than luck.
He's made some dreadful records

and somehow
he comes to Blue Note

and you get a very good one
out of him.

Well, there might be a reason
for that in a way

because Bud and I are
very close friends.

And I understand his way.

! think you have fo understand
an artist

to really get something
out of them.

Prestige was all right.
I knew Bob Weinstock, President.

He liked jazz, too.

Savoy, all those records,
they liked jazz.

But they didn't press it
and put it out like Alfred.

The sound was better.

The musicians were better.

All right, come on,
Al says, "Lets play.”

Alfred always spent time
with the musicians.

He had planning meetings
with them,

talked about who the side men
would be.

And he always encouraged
the artist to compose new music.

He didn't want just the
thousandth version of "Caravan".

He wanted new material.

He wanted everything
to be fresh and vital.

And he always paid
for rehearsals.

You have a solo
and you bring me in.

Yeah, well, you count it out
loud again and play it.

Not only the production
of the music,

but also Francis Wolff's
photographs,

the cover art
that Reid Miles did.

It all added to the impact
of each of the albums.

Reid Miles was
a very unique designer

because he was able
to make every album

different from the next album,

but they all looked
like Blue Note records.

Reid would create
the typography,

then he would go and take
Frank's photos and crop them

to the point that drove Frank
nuts and create the covers.

So it was a remarkable team

that really worked
in its own way.

What is truly amazing
about these photographs

is that Frank was running
around the studio,

catching candid shots
in a 16th of a second

and they're all
perfectly framed.

They capture a moment
and they really focus

on the face of the musician.

For example, on "Blue Train",

this was a favourite device
of Frank's

where he would shoot the tenor
with another musician's face

in the curve of the tenor.

I'm sure our listeners like
to hear you express

what you think is listenable
among your whole production.

Oh, you mean of the albums
that I've made?

Yes.

! like "Blue Train”...
myself.

I figured you would.

It's such a good band
on there, you know?

That's a really dangerous album.

And it was a good recording.

"Blue Train" was
such an important work.

It changed the face of jazz
for ever.

That's one of the reasons why
I knew I wanted to play music.

Cos I said If somebody
can translate

these soundwaves into my body
and make me feel this way,

I want to be included in that.

If you're expressing life
through the music,

even when you're not aware that
that is your goal,

being yourself and finding
yourself, revealing yourself,

I think that's really
what life is all about.

But along the way, helping
everybody else to do that, too.

Cos I think that's part
of the completion of the music.

What's contained on a record
itself is incomplete,

'cause it doesn't include
the process of the person

listening to it
and how it affects them.

When you look at
the really classic records

of the Blue Note sound,

you're realising
it's a community of musicians

that have come together
in different configurations,

at different times, but each
of them are hugely individual.

Then you took somebody
like Rudy Van Gelder

who could capture that sound,
get their individual sound,

but also keep
the Blue Note sound intact.

I think that was
something very special.

I personally liked the music,

so I kind of was drawn
to musicians

who were jazz musicians.

I just liked that freedom
of improvisation

and the recognition
of individual musicians.

Like there was
such and such a name

and you get to know them all
by the way they sounded.

Yeah, I started as a fan.

When Alfred came to me,
I knew what he wanted.

He knew that I could get it
for him

and that's how it started
when we came together.

We're still rolling.

This is light, upbeat.

Not no jig-a-joom,
teek-tiddy-boom, tiddy-boom, OK?

Gentlemen, gentlemen, take one.

It was my parents' home
and I was allowed

to use the living room
to record my jazz music.

They allowed me to put
a control room window

in one of the walls
to the living room.

I had all the equipment in there
to record my jazz music.

But Alfred was a genius,
and he knew what I needed to do

in order to make it sound

the way he expected it
to sound like.

And he would rehearse
every date that he made,

not so about the other
companies like Prestige

where they would have
to be ready

to play just music
that they knew.

That's why you get
a lot more standards

and simple music
on the Prestige.

So when he would come
to the studio,

he'd know in his mind how the
finished product would sound.

And by the way, Frank...

They would sometimes disagree
and there'd be big arguments.

"I liked that take."
"Well, I liked this solo."

Those decisions came
out of their interplay.

At the end of the session,
everyone said,

"That's the good music,"
including the musicians.

That was the end
of the musicians' involvement.

They trusted Alfred,
who trusted me,

and that's how it went.

Miles, start again.

Miles, start again.

"I Waited For You," take two.

Wait a little longer!

- Say it again.
- Other mic, Miles, please.

A little bit more...

OK;, here we go.
"I Waited For You," take three.

During his Prestige years,

Miles Davis was able to make
three wonderful dates

for Blue Note.

And even when he was at Columbia
he went back to Blue Note

to make an album
called "Somethin' Else"

with Cannonball Adderley.

And I know that he really loved
Alfred Lion.

Play another one, Alfred.

- Another one?
- Yeah, this is gonna be It.

Some of my clients wanted
larger rooms for more musicians,

so I needed a bigger room.

So I said,
"OK, I'm gonna build a studio.”

We liked the style
of Frank Lloyd Wright.

We liked the materials he used,
the shape of the rooms,

so we hired one of his students.

We wanted the music to have
space, so I built it up high.

Yeah, that's pretty high
right there.

Three storeys high.

A lot of people,
when [ first came to town,

they thought, "Look at that,
it's gonna be a church."

I remember the first time
I heard a Blue Note record.

I was about 14.

I'll never forget it.

It was Joe Henderson's solo
on "Mode for Joe"

where he's making these...
I don't even call them notes.

They're like animalistic cries
of anguish.

I thought,
"Whoa, what is this music?"

These guys looked so cool.

I'd look at Francis Wolff's
black-and-white photos

and see these guys in the room
with all the smoke and...

It was always dark, man. There
were no walls you could see.

And I just wanted to be there.

The Beatles looked cool.
Jimi Hendrix looked cool.

These guys looked cooler.

What's the first one?

Freddie Hubbard's
"Breaking Point".

Freddie Hubbard's
"Breaking Point",

classic Blue Note record.

I never wanted to work
for a record company.

But Blue Note was irresistible

because I'd grown up
listening to those records

and because to me it represented
artistry of the highest order.

A lot of jazz purists were like,

"What, the B-52's
and The Rolling Stones?

He's gonna ruin the company."

You've got Don
who's, like, produced everybody

and so he's got the greatest set
of ears ever,

so you're not dealing
with a real corporate person

that's coming in
from a real business standpoint

that doesn't really get
the music.

You've got somebody that
this is their personal passion.

Switch the outputs, yeah.

When you're mastering,

you can dramatically change
the sound of the music.

But our job
in re-mastering the stuff

is not to editorialise
in any way,

but to make sure that
the artist's original intentions

are maintained through
the various manifestations

that technology brings.

The old records represent about
half the income for the company

and new music is the other half,

so even in the changing world
of the music business,

because of the integrity
of Alfred Lion

and the artists
he brought to the company,

the doors stay open.

With us tonight, one of
the outstanding jazz trumpeters

in the country today,
Clifford Brown.

Oh, that's a great picture
there.

That's a great picture.

One of the greatest
of all times.

Clifford Brown was down
in Wilmington, Delaware,

so I said, "Let me go there
and check him out."

When I got down there,

I said, "I want you
to do a record date."

You see, he had a car accident

and knocked his shoulder
out of place

and he can't hold his horn,

but he got his trumpet
and put it up on the fence.

We played a couple of tunes.

I said, "You could make the date
like that." He said, "No."

So I said, "I'll call you and
you can get in touch with Alfred

and come to New York."

Then his first date
was made with me.

It wasn't the "Memorial Album".
It was my date.

Not the "Memorial Album".

They just called it
the "Memorial Album”

because he died.

Car accident.

When people talk
about Clifford Brown,

they talk about him
with such reverence.

Just his seriousness.
I mean, this guy was so serious.

You know, he didn't drink,
he didn't party.

He was always practising,
like Coltrane.

And to just hear the level
that he got to,

all by the age of 25...

You know, he passed when he was
25 years old. That is amazing.

So, yeah, for me,
he is the biggest influence,

as far as trumpet players,
on my plane.

Oh, here is
something interesting.

This is "A Night at Birdland"
with the Art Blakey Quintet

before there was a name,
The Jazz Messengers.

Ladies and gentlemen,
as you know,

we have something special down
here at Birdland this evening.

A recording
for Blue Note Records.

When you applaud
for the different passages,

your hands go right
on the record there,

so when they play 'em over
and over throughout the country,

you may be some place and say,

"That's my hand
on one of those records...

that I dug down
at Birdland!”

Alfred wanted to do a date
with the Blue Note All-Stars

and that's what
it was supposed to be,

but Art gave Pee Wee
a couple of dollars and said,

"When you make the announcement,
say 'Art Blakey's Band'."

You listen to the record.

We're bringing back to the
bandstand, ladies and gentlemen,

the great Art Blakey
and his wonderful group,

featuring the new trumpet
sensation, Clifford Brown,

Horace Silver on piano,
Lou Donaldson on alto,

Curly Russell is on bass.

Let's get together and bring
Art Blakey to the bandstand

with a great big round
of applause.

We got on Alfred about it,
but Alfred didn't care

because he saw he was gonna
make a lot of money.

Because, you know, that
Clifford Brown was sensational

and he didn't rock the boat.

He let it go like that
and that's how it ended up.

How about a big hand now?
For Art Blakey! Thank y'all!

That's one of my earliest
memories of jazz,

that introduction.
"Art Blakey!", you know?

That was like, "Man,
I want them to say my name."

You know what I mean?

Picking up that record was
pretty important for me,

in realising that that hard bop
or that sound they were creating

it was a new sound.

Art Blakey took the name
The Jazz Messengers

and Horace Silver went on
to develop his own quintet.

Both institutions went on
to discover new talent

for the next 30 years.

And that style became known
as the Blue Note sound

because it was introduced
on Blue Note Records.

It broke the rules of bebop,

which was supposed
to break the rules

of whatever came before that.

Horace Silver's playing
all this crazy, funky stuff

that you weren't allowed
to play,

and Art Blakey's throwing in
back beats

that you're not supposed
to play in bebop

and they created something
brand-new there.

They labelled it hard bop, but
it changed the face of music.

We listen to it now, it doesn't
sound quite as revolutionary

because it's become such a part

of the common vocabulary
of musicians,

but at the time,
it was very radical.

Art Blakey was
a university to himself

and a lot of the musicians
that came through his band

actually became leaders.

He was a leader
who trained leaders.

They were fantastic musicians.

They were gentlemen,

they didn't believe in getting
on stage with their anger.

Forget about that. We play.

All my life,
I have been a band leader.

I never wanted to be the leader.

I always wanted to be a good
sideman and have no headaches,

but I was always put
info that position

because I was older than the
rest of the fellas, not in age,

but I had more experience
in life than they did.

When I was 13, I was
in the coal mines, working.

I was already a man, you see.

Were you self-taught on drums?

Oh, I was self-taught
on everything.

And I think there's no secret
or nothin' about what I do.

It's just the idea of listening
to the rest of the musicians

and being part of the group.

Thank you very much.

At this time, we'd like to
feature our leader, Art Blakey.

Art Blakey,
he had an incredible command

of whatever ensemble
he was playing in.

He really leads the band
into the next section

very naturally
and very powerfully.

At this time,
we'd like to do a tune

composed and arranged
by our pianist, Bobby Timmons.

It's a little thing
we recorded on...

Can I say it now?

Blue Note.

Blue Note Records.

We sincerely hope
you all buy these records.

God knows we need the money.

Art would call Alfred for money.

And Alfred would send him money.

In fact, he told Alfred
one time,

and he had both of us
fell on the floor laughing,

because he said he was
on his way to the airport

and somebody mugged him.

And Alfred said,

"I don't believe...
I don't believe that story

because if I'd try to mug Art
and I saw him, I'd stop!"

My band and I'm gonna run it.

I didn't say anything
about the tune.

I just said we should make
it once more.

You know damn well
I'll make it 20 more times

if you want me to, Alfred, but
don't come out and just say no.

Take it down a little slower.
Just a little slower, Art.

Take 10.

At the tenor saxophone,
the new star, Wayne Shorter.

Wayne Shorter
proved to be something else.

He's such a fantastic...

He's one of the few musicians
that has three degrees in music.

One of the few.
And he has so much knowledge

and we had to bring him out
as a tenor player,

just to come out and play
his horn and play what he knew

because he's very shy.

And he was a fantastic writer.

And I made Wayne
the musical director,

which brought his personality,
gave him more self-assurance.

Art Blakey used to say,

"You can't hide
behind your instrument."

You want Wayne to lead it off
or something?

23. Take 23.

When we were in the studio
at that time, in the '60s,

we questioned whether or not
what we were doing

would be heard.

What effect would it have
20 years from then?

Will it do anything
in the world?

Will it create
some kind of value?

The kind of value
you can't put a price on.

Cos we were not in the business
of making hit records,

and hit music.

Take 23.

We had no thought
of competing with...

They call it business.

The music business.

If I really am experiencing
something difficult,

I'll put on "Speak No Evil" and
that's as good as meditation.

It is like meditation.

A neurologist would probably not
be able to find the difference

between meditation
and focusing on "Speak No Evil".

And I always feel better,
always feel refreshed,

always remember who I am.

That's a pretty amazing service
to provide for people.

It's such a classic record
for me,

all the players on that album.

When you add that with
the compositions and everything,

it's just so sad and
I feel like it's pouring out.

It's so beautiful
and thoughtful.

It's thought out, but not
thought out at the same time.

It's so many things.
Sometimes you can't explain it.

That's what music is for.

You can't say it,
SO you just hear it.

Hey, Wayne.

- Hey, Wayne.
- Yeah?

Who's this?

That's Frank Wolff!

Yeah. If you played
and Frank was dancing,

- that was the take.
- Is that right?

If he wasn't dancing,
that was not the take.

- And he danced like that?
- That's what he did.

It was kind of a little shuffle.

No matter where
the beat was.

No, it had nothing
to do with the beat!

- How you doing, man?
- I'm good.

Herbie and Wayne are just so...

They have
such a basic chemistry together.

I love hearing them,
those guys together.

Good to see you, man.

Wayne's actually
my favourite jazz composer.

I love his compositions.

Wayne has a really dark, eerie,
melodic, beautiful sound

that, before Wayne,
I never heard it in jazz before.

It's just a certain mood that
when you meet him, you get it.

The reflection of him
is the music.

What tunes we're doing?

I brought a sketch
of "Masqualero”.

- Oh, you did?
- I heard you say it.

Yeah, yeah, good.

It's just what it is.
Two lines and then go for it.

Let's do that. Yeah, great.

The song's called "Masqualero”.

The name Masqualero
always intrigued me.

The Native American tribes

around the south-west
of the United States,

the Apache, they had really
elaborate, mysterious masks.

They seemed to come
out of nowhere

and then recede info nowhere

when they were defending their
land or something like that.

So...

The actual bass line

was written to create
some kind of mystery

and then the melody
even more mystery.

It's just my way
of shining some light

on something that really
happened in American history,

with interaction between people,

the Masqualero tribe, and things
that we didn't understand

about them and ourselves.

- Should we try one?
- Yeah. How are y'all doing?

Good!

You have to listen
very carefully, very close.

I have Derrick Hodge next to me.

I have Kendrick there.

You know, I have Herbie far
away, but I hear him on the...

So I'm reacting to the moment.

So ll have no idea

how I'm gonna start,
how I'm gonna finish this.

Completely open.

I think that's the beauty
of this music.

Getting in the unknown zone.

The feeling that I get
when I'm really improvising

with other people who are
really improvising is a feeling

that I don't get anywhere else.

It's something that always feels
like it's a step

or a half-step away from me.

I don't know
if you ever achieve lit.

It's transcendent.
It's just like I'm not there.

But I know
that you get closer to it

by not living in the past
or the future.

Just sort of submitting
to the now.

It takes some kind of courage
and fearlessness,

and the courage to be vulnerable
is a challenge.

To summon courage
is a challenge itself.

- It's always daunting.
- Yeah.

But the more
you challenge yourself

to muster up the courage,

the more this uncertainty
becomes your ally.

That was deep. Beautiful.

We did two takes of "Masqualero”

and we didn't add anything,
we didn't subtract anything.

It's exactly as it went down
in the room.

Art Blakey said...

"Don't be getting fresh
with me!"

I saw how each individual
relinquished the leadership

and being in a band situation
with Herbie Hancock

and Wayne Shorter, I immediately
want to relinquish it to them,

but they're waiting
for me to do something.

They want to see
what you have to offer

and to frame that picture
for you.

Which is something that's
very important in a jazz group,

that everybody has a voice.

And in that
you have to be courageous

and find whatever turns you on
in the moment.

I learn a lot from Herbie.

He's one of the musicians
who is always supporting

the moments, you know.

If you're making a mistake,
he will fix it in a second.

And he won't even raise his head
to look at you.

So he's just into the music

and it's very easy
because, whatever you do,

he will be supporting you
the best way.

And it's very hard, foo,

because on the paper
it says C Major 7

and Herbie plays something else.

He's beyond the notes.

Like, you know,

how we musicians think
about the notes we're playing.

He's definitely beyond that.

It all comes down
to managing the ego

in a way that allows the music
to really, really come out.

People like Wayne Shorter
or Herbie Hancock,

they can allow the music
to flow through, you know.

It feels a little bit deeper.

I mean, like they work on their
humanity as well as their music.

That's the one.

The second one is hijacked
by the first one.

I mean, the second one is like
an alternate story.

But the second one is like
the guy who says,

"I wanna be the second guy
to go to Mars!"

This idea of collaboration
that we have is

the personal expression of what
the music really is about.

Anyway, it's about collaboration
and freedom.

Miles, he asked me
one time, he said,

"Do you ever get tired
of playing music

that sounds like music?"

And then he said, "Do you ever
feel like you wanna play

as if you don't know
how to play?"

Play your instrument, play.
He's getting at something.

Miles himself taught me
something by his behaviour.

What happened was

in '64, '65,

this particular night was like

the night where
everything was working

and we got to a place
in the music

where the flow was happening
and the music was just peaking

and it was during Miles' solo

and at the high point
I played this chord that was...

It was so wrong.

It was so wrong!

And I just felt like I had
destroyed everything, right?

And Miles took a breath

and then he played some notes

that actually
made my chord right.

How do you do that? You know?

I was ready to crawl
under the floor,

but the difference was that
I had judged what I had done.

Miles didn't judge what I did.

He heard it and heard it
as a part of the music.

Oh, like something new
that came into the music.

And he found something
that worked.

You know,
so it taught me a lesson

that I've tried my best
to not only maintain,

but to utilise, you know?

The idea of being non-judgmental
is such an important virtue

for creating value
in so many different ways.

It was a lesson that came from
the life of Miles Davis

and the life of that group,
and life in that moment.

When Herbie Hancock and
Wayne Shorter were on the label,

they were making these records

based around the kind
of modal experiments

that they were conducting
in the Miles Davis Group.

That changed everything.

That changed
how you voiced chords,

what you based your solos
around.

The thing that attracts me
to a musician

is the fact
that they're an artist.

It's the changing,
it's the evolution.

It's the willingness to throw
everything out the window

in search of something new.

Take 27.

Take 27.

And musicians on Blue Note
specifically,

you can see
that there was a direction.

You know, there was a goal,
there was a quest.

I didn't need it, but they keep
telling me it's 27.

They're also artists who are on
the same mission that you're on.

- Take 27.
- Merry Christmas.

I take from each
of those artists

and I see how they affected
the world at large

through their social
consciousness.

You listen to "Free For All"
by Art Blakey.

That's about more
than musical freedom.

It's an anthem
for the Civil Rights Movement.

That album was recorded
right between the march on Selma

and the passage
of the Civil Rights Bill.

They're dealing
with segregation.

They're dealing
with just overt racism,

so, yeah, the music is political

because the times here
in the United States

during the '50s and '60s
were politically charged.

Never at a point
do I hear the music

and hear them being defeated.

Somehow, regardless
of what they were fighting with,

they're going down in history
creating something

that influenced my life
in a way where I felt freedom,

where it brought me joy,

where it made me wanna write
music that gave people hope.

So I call 'em heroes
cos when you hear these records,

you feel what they strived for,

what they were fighting
to hopefully get to.

I mean, that's amazing.

This is Lee Morgan's
comeback album on Blue Note,

"The Sidewinder".

Joe Henderson, Barry Harris,
Billy Higgins

and Bob Cranshaw on bass.

You know, as you can see,

there is a lot of false starts

before they really got it
together.

The first complete take
was Take 25

and as Alfred noted,
it was good.

And that became the take.

In 1966,

Blue Note accidentally had two
very big, successful records.

The first one was Lee Morgan,
"The Sidewinder",

and the second one a year later
was Horace Silver,

"Song For My Father".

Those records got
on the pop charts.

They sold tens of thousands
of copies.

And they came
completely unexpected.

Alfred had no idea and they ran
out of records within 48 hours.

And once they had two very big,
successful records,

a problematic economics
came into play.

Distributors were pressing them
to deliver more hits.

Alfred just wanted to keep
producing Blue Note records

as usual, not worry about a hit,

so the distributors started
to slow down paying the label.

And that was a forced incentive
for distributors

to pressure the label
to give them more hits.

And so there was a major,
major cash flow problem.

Alfred and Frank felt
that they needed to sell

to a larger label
with more financial resources.

The new people
that bought the company,

all they wanted
was to sell records.

They weren't interested
in art form,

you know, but they wanted
to compete with other records,

you know, which is hard to do,
playing jazz.

Alfred was having a real rough
time working for somebody else

when he had been working
only for himself.

And he couldn't get used
to all the meetings

and the sales plans
and the budgets

and he just wanted to get out.

And so in the summer of 1967
he left.

And Frank Wolff ran it
until his death in early 1971.

Then Blue Note stopped recording
most straight-ahead jazz.

Jazz in the '50s and in the '60s
used to tell the stories

of the inner cities.

Then there was a time after that
that it stopped doing that.

And then hip hop in the '80s
came around

and that was the thing
that told the stories

of the inner cities
all of a sudden.

When I was a kid,

the ghettos weren't
used to seeing motherfuckers

with instruments no more.

Cos at that point they killed
all the music programmes

from the school.

So there was no instruments.

I think that's what made
gangbanging turn up in LA

a whole bunch in the '80s.

Cos the kids had nothing to do,
no more after-school programmes.

No more band teachers,
SO gangbanging turning up...

self-hate turning up,
murder rate turning up,

crack turning up.

All that was left was
the records, the albums

and turntables.

No instruments.

Motherfuckers took records,
turntables

and went to the South Bronx
and parks and got down.

I started making music
around 1985.

And at that time, hip hop
was still this new, fresh sound.

One thing most people
could find in their homes

was a record player.

And if you had a record player,

chances are your neighbour
had a record player,

so you put two of them together

and it's definitely
the birthplace of hip hop.

That communal need
to get together, to understand,

to express, finding records
and looking for that breakbeat.

Something that your rapper
could go on.

Something that you can backspin
back and forth

and just let the beat rock.

Lee Morgan, "Absolutions”,

it starts off with a baseline

that you can just snatch
as a groove.

I fell in love with jazz
through hip hop.

And that was through
Tribe Called Quest.

I started wanting to understand
and wanting to learn.

"What is this?"
Herbie record. Bam!

Ron Carter records. Bam!
Lenny White records. Bam!

Through them records,
you find other musicians.

Blue Note Records
became the go-to.

What we were discovering

is that the jazz records had
a lot of open break sections,

a lot of solo sections.

And not only for the drummer,

but for all of the players.

They had their moments
and I think

that was the beauty
of discovering jazz.

Once they had the swing in it
and the beat in it,

they liked it
and they sampled it.

I found out
by looking at my royalties.

Lou Donaldson is an architect
for hip hop.

Idris Muhammad was a part
of a lot of people's personnel

and so his sound
is all over hip hop.

There are certain musicians

who are just the backbone
of hip hop.

Grant Green is another one,
you know, bluesy,

soulful, energetic,

who also recorded
with a lot of personnel.

There is so much information
in each player's part.

In jazz, there's the freedom
to improvise,

but it's more than just having
your go to solo.

It's like completely
just letting go.

Finding a portal...

that you can transcend
your entire self through it

with the instrument,
with the sound.

There's freedom in that
and that's what I get from jazz.

The Chairman of EMl Records

asked me
to have dinner with him.

He said,
"How would you like to start

Blue Note Records
all over again?

It's been dormant now
for a number of years.

Let's start it again.
Would you like to."

I said, "My favourite label
is Blue Note.

of course 1'd love to do this."

So we started in July of 1984.

The other half of my heartbeat
ls Michael Cuscuna

who did this with me right from
the very beginning

as a consultant.

This was a completely
different era

than when Frank Wolff
and Alfred Lion ran it

as an independent label.

No longer could you have
just one designer

and one studio
and one engineer.

You could not get the continuity
and the cohesion

that was part
of the original Blue Note.

So what we really decided to do
was keep in mind the quality

and the standard
that Alfred Lion

and Frank Wolff set
for everybody.

These two guys in the UK
that wanted

to sample a couple
of Blue Note records.

They wanted particularly
"Cantaloupe Island”

by Herbie Hancock.

First question I asked, "Would
Alfred Lion have done this?"

I was with Tom Everett,
who was the general manager

of the label at that time.

Tom said, "It's got to be
on Blue Note, man. You're crazy.

Alfred would have done this."”

They said, "You're gonna stop us
from putting this out, right?"

I said, "No, you can sample
the entire Blue Note catalogue.

Let's make an album.”

They couldn't believe we were
allowing them to do this.

I said,
"Yeah, let's go and just do it.”

The album sold several
million copies.

It was a very lucky day
for us.

I received a phone call
from an accountant

in the royalty
accounting department.

And I thought maybe
we had an accounting problem,

a royalty problem,
so I took the call

and I said,
"Do we have some problems?"

She said, "No, no. I want you
to hear this young singer,

a great jazz singer
that I'm involved with."

I said, "Well, fine."

On Friday, in comes
this young girl, very shy,

a dark-haired girl with glasses,

very pretty, but very, very shy
and very demure.

I said,
"What's your background?"

She said,
" went to North Texas State.

I was a jazz piano
and voice major

and I'm in New York now,
doing gigs downtown."

I said, "Do you have something
I can listen to?"

She said, "I have a CD
with three songs on it."

I put it on and I was stunned.

I think midway through the song
I probably stopped the CD player

and said,
"Look, I don't get this.

You're, what, 21, 22 years old
and you're nailing this song!"

I didn't have to hear it again.
I simply said to her,

"Look, I want to sign you
to Blue Note Records."

I knew it was gonna do well.

I never expected it was gonna
end up Record of the Year.

She won every one,
every category.

If you find a real artist,
you're lucky enough,

you don't ask
marketing questions,

you don't say,
"Where's the hit single?

Why isn't this something
that's flavour of the minute?"

An awful lot of people
in our business look for that,

want something that sounds
like somebody else on the radio.

Get someone
that means something,

not somebody
that's a confection.

There's too much of that.

He really made the label happen
again when he brought it back.

He was very warm and he cared
deeply about his artists.

The reason I love
being on this label

is because I've always felt
like I had that freedom

to make my own music
and do whatever I want.

And I don't feel confined
by the restrictions

of the jazz genre.

Bruce Lundvall signed me.

Once he signed me,
I went into his office

with a plan of my album,
what I wanted to do.

Bruce stopped me and said...

"Don't worry about that.
You're the artist. Make the art.

It's our job to sell it.
Do what you do."

OK, start me from right there.

We're gonna start from that same
spot. It's, like, four, right?

I feel like jazz
is starting to reach

back to the younger audiences

and I feel like
Rob is a big part of that

because of his ability
to incorporate hip hop.

That's appealing
to the younger audience,

they wouldn't traditionally
listen to jazz.

'Cause the way
the music comes out

when he plays it,
it feels hip hop.

It's jazz sensibilities,
but it's hip hop feeling.

I was always mixing jazz
and hip hop.

I was always doing soul music,
R&B, hip hop, jazz.

And I got to know so many people

from the other side,
other than just jazz.

I was like, "I know
all these R&B hip hop cats,

and I'm always
in the jazz world.

I want to do an album
to bring that together."

We do what we can
to reflect our generation

and the sounds of our generation

because that's what people under
us coming up can relate to.

You know?

Blue Note is the past, present
and the future.

It's always doing
something different.

It's always turning on
the next generation

to something
that could change their life.

Blue Note and Robert together
broke the doors down

for what I do.

A lot of times, the jazz world
is like a secret society

and the mainstream people
who listen to R&B and hip hop

don't know what's going on
in the jazz world.

When we won that R&B Album
of the Year award,

that made us visual
to that side of the music,

therefore making jazz
more visual.

I'd like to thank Don Was,

Cem Kurosman and everyone
at Blue Note Records...

When college kids see that,
that inspires them

to be themselves
and play their influences.

I think there's a movement
going on now, a great movement.

You have all these other bands
coming up

that are making a lot of noise,

that come from
a jazz background,

so as of now, it's pretty damn
cool to be a jazz musician.

I'm friends with Terrace Martin.

Terrace Martin and a lot of
LA cats like Kamasi Washington

and all these guys,

Thundercat Stephen Bruner,

I've known them
since we were teenagers.

Ambrose, that's my homeboy.
He got a bounce with his music.

You can hear the hip hop
in his writing.

Hip hop ain't
"boom-cap-boom-cap".

It's a way of life.
It's a culture.

Terrace kept calling me. He was
like, "We're doing this thing.

Man, it's gonna change hip hop."

I was like,
"Really? Come on, man.

I'm just gonna stay at home and
practise." He kept calling me.

Finally, I was like, "OK,
I'm gonna come to the studio.”

As soon as I came, he was like,
"Man, just play him a track."

I was like, "Wow, OK,

you guys really are about
to change the game.”

They didn't ask me
to do anything.

They just turned on the track
and I went in the studio

and I just played.

Just like you would do
on a jazz session.

Robert came in and did
eight songs in one night.

Ambrose came in...

One take, done.

"To Pimp A Butterfly"
is influenced by jazz.

It's influenced by funk.

It's influenced by soul music,

music that comes from the black
communities and the ghetto.

I was in the studio one day
with my guy Terrace Martin

and he was like, "Man, a lot
of the chords that you pick

are jazz-influenced.

You're a jazz musician
by default.”

And that's something
that just opened me up.

Then he just started
breaking down the science of It,

going back to Miles,
Herbie Hancock.

"Man, [ like that sound.
What is that?

That's what I've been liking
all these years?"

"Yeah, you've been liking this
for years. This is your DNA."

To me, hip hop
is definitely connected to jazz

in terms of what it does,
its purpose.

Just because
someone is Now rapping

or doing poetry over a beat

doesn't mean
it's different from jazz.

So, for me, I think hip hop and
jazz are the exact same thing.

I think we are getting back
to the time

where people are more explicit

about the message
they're trying to convey.

There's a lot of people
in jail, man.

A lot of people thinking
about committing suicide

and all kinds of shit right now
cos times is fucked up.

I got to play the music
or else I'm gonna die.

Or get pulled over by the police
and you get killed.

So you got to do the music
to soothe the times.

- Can you hear me on this mic?
- Yeah.

- OK.
- What are the changes?

- What are you playing?
- It's a C minor flat 6.

A-flat major sharp 11.

The record company
that our founders started

allowed the musicians
complete freedom

as a method for breaking down
the barriers

that exist in music
and taking it to new places.

And you've got to keep
that tradition going.

You know, it's important

because now we're in an era
where the stakes are high.

There's a possibility now
where kids can grow up

and not even care
to want to play an instrument.

It's really a vibe song
that interjects that...

If we don't keep handing it down
in the way that Herbie and Wayne

and those guys
have handed it to us,

it may change in a way
that we don't want it to change,

so we should be concentrating

on passing down those lessons
the greats taught us.

And then we can, like,
group-compose,

like, if we think
of some alternate changes.

I was thinking
of something vibey.

We want the generation of now
to understand the music.

You know what I mean? Especially
understand jazz music.

Wanna try it?

- Keith, are you recording?
- Indeed.

OK, let's just try it.

24, take 24...