INTERVIEW
Interview by : Sébastien Jobart
on Thursday, April 22nd 2004 - 10 780 views
A renowned pianist, Monty Alexander built his reputation in jazz, rubbing shoulders with Miles Davis, Erroll Garner and even Frank Sinatra. He arrived in the United States at the age of 17, but has never forgotten his Jamaican roots, and alongside his jazz career he has developed a discography revisiting the most famous riddims of the island's musical heritage. Reggaefrance met him during his latest visit to Paris.
Reggaefrance / How did you end up behind a piano?
Monty Alexander / There was a piano at home, and at the age of four I started playing it. I was drawn to the sound, I loved making noises and I started playing little melodies. I got serious about it, and over the years I became more and more proficient. One day I was playing, and the people outside applauded.
You also had a band, Monty & the Cyclones.
At school, I formed that band because I loved the idea of playing. But in truth, the reason I formed it wasn't to play songs: it was because we thought lots of girls would come to the gig, and that we could meet pretty girls there!
And did it work?
Yes, it worked (Laughs). Most of the time.
What was your first experience in a studio?
That's a good question. At the time, I was really fascinated by the idea that you could record. It struck me: you can record yourself and then listen to it! I was completely excited. The first studio I knew in Jamaica was Federal Studio. When I went there, I was only 10 or 12 years old. I skipped school, got on the bus when nobody was looking, and shot off to the studio. There, I watched the musicians record the albums and I even sang backing vocals on some tracks. I knew a few Jamaican jazzmen like Roland Alphonso or Ernest Ranglin, and I was completely excited to go and see them. And then one day, I played. I knew what I was doing, because I could play anything: boogie, rhythm & blues, ska... That was around 1957.
Is that when you met Ernest Ranglin and Roland Alphonso?
No, I had already seen them in the hotels. My father used to take me there to see the musicians who played mento and calypso. They had home-made instruments, and sang for the tourists, during dinner or cocktails. I loved watching those musicians, I remember Aubrey Adams... Those guys could play Errol Garner, Nat King Cole, and play it to perfection. And they also played in the studio, but there they played simpler riddims, even though they could play much more than that. Ernest Ranglin can play like Django Reinhardt, or Charlie Christian, you know what I mean? But he also knows how to play Jamaican music, which is about making people dance. He has no less integrity in playing this music. These people could play other kinds of songs like popular American standards, they were influenced by Dizzie Gillepsie and Charlie Parker. That's where Roland Alphonso comes from, the jazzmen were part of all that. Like them, I love all kinds of music: calypso, boogie, rhythm & blues, bebop...
So you were already playing jazz in Jamaica, before leaving for the USA?
Yes, I went to jam sessions. I played there, it was very exciting. The people there are really into the music, they listen. They would say to me: “Yeah man, go, go!” I already had experience with good musicians, but I never imagined for a single second that I could make a living from it. Especially when I arrived in the United States, that gigantic country, with such famous people. I was 17 when I arrived there.
And you didn't know anyone there. How did you manage to break through?
Because music draws me in. When I heard musicians playing, I went to see them, and we started becoming friends, because music is one big family. So they welcomed me, I played and they thought it was good. I started sitting in at bars on Miami Beach. I was accepted and shortly afterwards, I got my first job. I played in bars and saloons, songs like those of Nat King Cole, which I knew so well. That's how I became a professional, I was paid to play. And that's what I've been doing ever since.
Is that how you came to play for Franck Sinatra?
That's right. I didn't work with him, but I played in a club where he came all the time. I had a jazz trio. He would come to see me: “Hey Monty! That's great! Keep swinging!” And sometimes, I played at a place where he came to sing, and I played for him. It was very moving, he was definitely number 1.
You were still young...
I was 20. I arrived in New York at 19. In fact, I first met Sinatra in Miami, I was 18. A good friend of his, Gilly, had a club in New York (Gilly's, Ed.). He hired me, and asked me to come and play in New York. It was magic. I stayed there three years, and when you're 19, that seems like an eternity. It was a place where jazzmen came, I met Miles Davis there a thousand times. He invited me to his home, we hung out together. I met Errol Garner, lots of wonderful people. And gangsters too. Tough guys. These people seemed to come from another world. (silence) What more can I say? It was New York, in the 60s.
You weren't playing reggae any more at that time, only jazz?
No, I was trying to make my mark in America. I played standards, blues, and I was doing well. I love rhythm & blues, and people like Jimmie Smith or Cannonball Aderley influenced me. I also listened to Sinatra or Nat King Cole, so I could play their songs. But I only rarely played Caribbean or Jamaican tunes. All that was before Desmond Dekker, Bob Marley, Jimmy Cliff. When I played calypso tunes, like Sly Mangoose, those songs, the jazzmen loved them, because they come from there. Sonny Rollins is Caribbean, Wynton Kelly is Jamaican. Many are linked to this music, but they almost forgot it, because they had to make their mark in America. So they left Jamaican music at home. But as a child, Sonny Rollins knew Sly Mangoose, Wynton Kelly knew Brown Skinned Girl. There's also Oscar Peterson. Me, I haven't forgotten my Jamaican heritage.
And in 1978, you recorded Jamento with Ernest Ranglin. How did the project come about? Because Ernest Ranglin was working for Studio One at that time, and you were in America...
Ernest Ranglin worked at Studio One to help Coxsone, but he also played in the hotels and the studios. Ernie did everything, he's number 1. Ernie is the king! Ernest can play anything. He has such talent that he arranged several albums: he did My Boy Lollipop for Blackwell. Norman Grantz said to me: “I want you to make your own album”. At the time, I was working with Milt Jackson on jazz albums. And Norman Grantz is not just anybody in jazz: he worked with Oscar Peterson, Ella Fitzgerald, all those people. I told him I wanted to do something with my Jamaican roots. That I had a friend who played guitar, Ernest Ranglin, and that I wanted him to join us. He said: “Great! Let's do it!” I told him: “And I want two drummers”. He answered “Yes, yes”. Whatever I asked him for! He liked the idea. He tried to get Sonny Rollins on the album but his manager refused. It's a shame, a real shame, it would have been wonderful.
In 1999, you recorded Stir It Up, an album of Bob Marley covers...
Yes, that was later. After Jamento, I recorded Ivory & Steel, a bebop jazz album with Caribbean accents. Wickeed yuh know? I also recorded the album Yard Movement, for Chris Blackwell. Telarc heard the album and liked it. They proposed that I make more recordings in a Jamaican spirit, and we decided to do something sincere with Bob Marley songs. I put together this great band, several musicians who respected Bob Marley. Not just his music, but above all the man he was. Stir It Up is the result.
Let's talk about the album Rocksteady. Why covers again?
Because everybody likes hearing these songs again. We could easily have done original compositions, but we didn't. We decided to take these songs that people have remembered for so long, and to bring a happy feeling. It's an excellent compilation of tracks from the late 60s to the mid 70s. Ernie took part, he played in those studios. And so did I, not a lot, but I came back to Jamaica from time to time to take part in sessions. So I was happy to redo these songs. The record company loved it and we were able to launch the album.
How did you choose from among all those riddims?
It was like the Bob Marley album: how do you choose twelve songs when they're all classics? Not one Bob song is not a classic. Of course, you can argue about the choice of tracks on Rocksteady. We set aside about fifty tracks, and finally we chose Stalag 17, Confucius... There are different tracks, but all the musicians were comfortable with them. Because jazzmen don't know what tiredness is (laughs). Jazzmen can never stop! We also play to make people dance. The idea is that by listening to this album, or others, people feel like dancing. I firmly believe that people should be able to dance when they listen to music. And that's what we do.
The last song on the album, Redemption Song, is very different from the other riddims. It is almost anachronistic given the rest of the album. Why keep it?
It's, once again, a tribute to Bob Marley. Bob is so important to everything that has happened in Jamaican music. I chose this song and we got on with it, just Ernest and me, the piano and the guitar... relaxed. So yes, it's anachronistic [he stumbles over the pronunciation of the word]. You French people speak better English than I do! (laughs).
The album was recorded in a few days. Is that due to your jazz experience, where albums are recorded in a day?
Ernest and I play in the moment, in one take. When you have very creative musicians around you, all you have to do is get the riddim going and everybody locks into it. There are no overdubs and no editing, no cheating. It's like Stir It Up: exactly how it went at Studio One. Everything is done in one take, it goes very fast: “Is it good? OK, on to the next one. And that one, do we redo it? The first take was better? OK, we keep it.” We must have recorded for three days, maybe four to be relaxed about it.
The freedom of jazz and the rigidity of reggae seem incompatible. How do you explain that the mix of the two works so well?
It works well thanks to me and Ernest, because we respect both worlds. When we play, we are not playing reggae, nor jazz. We play what we play. It's very hard to explain, you know. We bring what we have to an idiom that is regular, immovable. We respect it, we don't want to change it. We make another version of these songs. People want to pin down different styles, different categories, but honestly, I don't care. I could play a polka (laughs), put my interpretation into it, but without changing it. But you must have musicians who know what it is. You can have the best musicians in the world, they don't necessarily know what life is like in Kingston. What this music is, is what we have on the album: authenticity.
The album sleeve recalls the sleeves of the 70s. Was that your idea?
I love westerns. The first time I saw a western, I was still a child, in Jamaica. And all over the world, maybe not in France but in England, people loved that kind of film, even before Clint Eastwood came along. I remember that the musicians, in the studio, talked about them, laughed about them, and behaved like in those films. The Upsetters did it. It's a part of me, I love western culture: the clothes, the hats, the attitude... I love cowboy songs too. Because they're about nature: there are cows, the river, the dust, the sun... It creates a world of fantasy. Roland Alphonso, Don Drummond talked about nothing else.
So we were on a rooftop in Kingston, with the photographer. I put on my hat, picked up my melodica. I struck a pose and Ernest, with his guitar, immediately took his. It recalls a poster for a Clint Eastwood film, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. We really wanted to use it. There were plenty of other, more conventional photos, and Telarc decided to take that one for the sleeve. Of course, in people's minds, the western has nothing to do with Jamaica. But the two are closely linked. If you listen to the rhythms of ska, rocksteady and reggae, you can see it: ska is the gallop of the horse; reggae is the rhythm of its footsteps. It creates all this atmosphere, these fantasies, and it became a big part of Jamaican music: this idea of the western style. I really believe in that. In the 50s and 60s, Jamaicans loved American country culture. Everybody knew the cowboy songs and the westerns.
What are your plans for the future?
I intend to do the same thing I was doing 30 years ago: play. In clubs, in concerts, sometimes with a band of my favourite jazzmen, to play Jamaican tunes. Like tomorrow, for example: I'll be in Barcelona with Ernest, and we'll be playing the tracks from the album. I'm going to keep making records, and enjoying the adventure. Because it is an adventure. Sometimes you're tired because nobody came to pick you up at the airport (laughs) but it's soon forgotten.
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