Johnny Griffin describes meeting Roland Kirk at a Chicago Blue Monday Jam Session. Griffin describes Kirk's contributions as a musician, composer and close friend. Curtis Fuller talks about getting called into play on John Coltrane's Moments Notice and how that session changed jazz and his own playing forever.
Interview recorded at The Keystone Korner in SF during performance by Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers originally broadcast on KFJC Radio
youtube site https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtsIZ_bMcIgEpWwNil1gYd5_UghWYxHmS
Johnny Griffin describes meeting Roland Kirk at a Chicago Blue Monday Jam Session. Griffin describes Kirk's contributions as a musician, composer and close friend. Curtis Fuller talks about getting called into play on John Coltrane's Moments Notice and how that session changed jazz and his own playing forever.
Interview recorded at The Keystone Korner in SF during performance by Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers originally broadcast on KFJC Radio
youtube site https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLtsIZ_bMcIgEpWwNil1gYd5_UghWYxHmS
website https://caljazzphoto.com/
Beside being the historic little giant of jazz, Johnny Griffin was the best storyteller ever. Recording at least 50 albums that I could count, and playing countless gigs, he could have filled the book with stories about himself. But most of the stories he told were about others. Those he loved playing with, like Melodious Monk, Art Blakey, and the tale we're about to hear, the legendary Rahsaan Roland Kirk. Though saxophonist Roland Kirk was known for blowing two or three instruments at a time, some of his own invention, like the Manzello, it was his heart and soulful purpose which touched others and allowed him to create a body of work that stands shoulder to shoulder with any artist. Tell me about your first contact with Rahsaan. Yeah, it was really something. The exact date, it must have been 1955 or 56 in Chicago. In Chicago we had what we call blue, blue Monday morning jam sessions. It would start at 7. 30 in the morning on Monday mornings. This is after the, then the big nightclubs would close, like the Club DeLisa, the El Grotto , other Rum Boogie, these clubs that are not there anymore, would close and people would have a little breakfast. They would close like four o'clock in the morning. People would have a little breakfast and then they had clubs that would start all over again. Now we worked in these clubs at night. This club was called the Flame Show Bar. Where was that located, on the south side? It was on the south side, right off the lakefront, on Oakwood Boulevard. Part of the Macomber Hotel. I met everybody there, I met not only Rahsaan, that's where I met Cannonball, in that alley there, also. But speaking about Rahsaan I mean the club was full of entertainers, you know, dancers, and musicians, and night people. And this session would start, and it would last, all day Monday, all night Monday night, into Tuesday morning. I don't know how they could stay up that long. Oh, well, you know, night people had that facility for staying up. Besides, the music was very interesting. I mean, everybody would come and play, you know. This particular morning, at this particular time, I was working like seven nights a week, matinee on Sundays, from three to seven. And in Chicago, you worked at night, you'd work, the hours would be like ten to four in the morning. Saturday nights would be ten to five. And the matinee on Sunday 3 to 7, start again 10 to 4. And have a three and a half hour break and hit again at 7. 30. So you know I was out of my mind completely. Being that I always had a great thirst for alcoholic beverages at this particular time. So you can imagine, I don't know exactly what time it was, could have been 10 o'clock or whatever. Anyway, the bandstand would say About five feet off of the floor, behind the bar, circular bandstand, long bar, club is long. And it's about, if you can imagine, about 20 yards from the front door, maybe 25 yards from the front door, as I could see the front door, people going in and out. And there was another entrance going into the hotel, too. And then another entrance going into the a place where they sell fried chicken wings and chicken livers and stuff. So, merriment all the time. You know, and out of this haze of smoke and, and being completely out of my head, I look down and I see him, leaving this blind man in the front door. I'm playing, you know, catch a swing, everybody's dancing, talking, having a good time. And I see this blind man has a golf bag and Over his back. With these funny looking instruments sticking out of it. I mean, from where I was standing, and I'm nearsighted anyway, and I don't play with glasses on. I mean, it looked like he had a bag full of Halloween horns or something, you know, what. You know, so I told him to take him into the band room, you know, so we had intermission. And I I went into the, to the band room. He was in there. We were introduced. And I asked him what you know, these instruments, I mean, when he pulled them out, I could see they were not Halloween horns, I mean, you know. But the shapes of them were like straight soprano saxophones in that sense, you know. And I asked him, what's the name of this one? And he told me it was a stritch. I said, a stritch? A stritch? And I'd been playing then myself for I'd been playing professionally then, as if I was in the 50s. I'd been playing at least 20 years or more then. Do you make them? I mean, not 20 years, but maybe 12. It was, say, 55, 56. I'd been playing since 1943, professionally. And then I said, what was that other one? He said it was a Manzello. Manzello or Manzello. I said, what? And then he had a tenor saxophones and some other strange things. He was hanging around his neck, flutes and stuff. I said, okay. So I invited him up to bandstand to play. And we helped him up because it was kind of dangerous getting on this stair. It was just a little weird little staircase going up. Not a real staircase, but more or less like a ladder so he could really climb. You know, so, anyway, we got him up there. And He started to play. I don't know what, exactly what tune it was. Probably some blues or something. Started swinging something. I took the first solo. People enjoying it, I'm swinging, I'm feeling good, okay. I finished, people applauded, you know, blah, blah, blah. And he started to play his tenor saxophone. And I was listening, I said, Oh, this guy's good, you know, he can play. I'm looking in another direction, clapping my hands as I usually do on the stage, feeling good. I don't know, and after about two or three minutes of his playing, I'm still looking in another direction. I heard two more horns come in. playing background to his tenor saxophone solo. So, naturally, I turned around to see what's going on, because we were the only two horns on the bandstand, or two kids playing. You know, and I was so surprised when I turned around to find Roland. She called him Rahsaan. I always called him Roland. Playing background to his own tenor saxophone solo. Which really struck me almost dumbfounding. I mean, I'd never experienced anything like that. I thought I'd seen everything, you know. I mean, so I immediately got down off the bandstand and stood there off to the side to see what was going on because I'd never witnessed anything like this before. And that's just the way I met Roland Curtis. Ramblin Wreck from Georgia Tech I just want to know, Do you have an idea? Oh, I do! Do you have an idea? I do. I do. I do. I do. I do. You know, He actually could play like a harmony part to his solo he was playing on an unenlightened saxophone. Yeah, he could do that. He stopped playing the cello, then he'd pick up these two other horns and play some black background. Then grab his cello and play again. Then he'd stick all three horns in his mouth and play a phrase with three notes in it, you know. I mean, really, that just turned me upside down. I couldn't believe it. I just think all the people have hard enough time when they first pick up a saxophone just to feel what it's like to blow a sax. Oh, definitely. But you know, this man was so powerful. God. And so strong. I mean, really, physically strong. I mean I arrived one time in upstate New York, I think it was Rochester, where? And he, I was following him on a gig there and he had played in, I think it was a place where the, the John Hendricks family had a place up there. A coffee bar like. And I got there the day after he had finished. And he was on the front page of the newspaper there. It seemed as though a taxicab driver was taking him to the airport. I tried to cheat him or something and haven't touched him. Grab Roland or something. And of course he was in immediate physical danger with Roland. And so the man went and called the police. And then two policemen came. And as I understood it, Roland damage to the two policemen plus the taxi driver. Also. And so they finally arrested him, you know. And when the judge found out that he was blind, you know, he didn't know he was flabbergasted. He didn't know what to, you know, Of course, I mean, because Roland was always a fair person and beautiful. So I don't know exactly what happened, but anyway, the judge, the judge let him go because he had a gig in California. The next day or something, he had to leave, but he told him, don't come back here, too. But, I mean, just to show his physical strength. I mean, anytime you think that a man can play three instruments, fill it up, three saxophones, you know, With one pair of lungs. I mean, wow. And one mouth. I have no idea. You know, that was when I just met him. And I've known, you know, I've known him forever, for a long time. I played many gigs with him after that, you know. I mean, I played gigs with him. Well, I know he's come on my gigs with Tete, the blind Catalan pianist. Once I remember in Berlin, I was working in a club and had this Festival there, Coleman Hawkins, Dan Train, and Alvin, and Miles, man, they all came in this club. I was working with Arthur Taylor, the drummer, and the French contrabassist, Albie Culasse, and Roland and Tay Tay came in to jam with me, and, and while we were playing, Roland asked me to get behind him and finger his tenor saxophone while he fingered these other two instruments. Now, I'm standing behind him, fingering his tenor saxophone, and he's fingering his other two horns, but he's blowing all three of them. Now, can you imagine that? How did, how did the other musicians take him? I mean, you know, they must have, they must have been a little bit put off. But some musicians didn't like him at all. Some, some musicians did not like him at all. Some Wellknown musicians did not like him at all.'cause they felt like he was stealing the show. Some of 'em felt that he wasn't authentic. They think he was showboating or something. Of course. Sure. You know, and some people just couldn't see behind his. Beyond his ability to, they couldn't see it because he could do that, to play these three instruments at once. And they were like, you know, they just refused to accept this as being something extraordinary. How did he talk about his music? He never talked about any music, you know. Not with me. I always had fun with him. Yeah. He was a friend of mine. What was he like as a person? I mean Beautiful. Very simple. I mean, very humorous. I found it very easy to get along with. He seemed like a great officer. You know, one of the aspects about him is he seemed like he could do just about anything. Any kind of style. And he seemed like a great historian of people who have come before him. He would all of a sudden play like, you know, mention somebody he was going to play like and say, this is what this guy did. You know, this is where it came from. Yeah. He had that that ability, of course by being blind, he also, his, his sensitiveness hearing was probably a expanded to a very much beyond ours, people that can see. So he had that ability. But I mean, you know, he was just full of natural talent though, the man. He'd do anything. He'd do anything. Pick up anything, you know. He'd do anything. Anything that would catch his fancy. His imagination would grasp. He, he was like that. Very outgoing, and then at the same time, I never found him to be an introvert. He was very, always very open and out and laughing, and wanted people around him to have a good time. Very independent. He didn't want you to help him very much. He could find his way around, you know. He was nobody's baby. He was a man. And he'll let you know that quickly. Ah. You don't know what that is. He was always a person who was always trying to help other people. This is something Roland always had. He always had it in himself, because he had such an abundance of spirit and strength that he was always trying to get audiences, or even people one on one. to feel better. That was his thing, to feel good and to feel better. You know, so he, he had this, just like I said, he had an overabundance of this spirit in him that it would completely infect any audience or anybody, whether he was playing or not, just being in his, in his company. You could feel the positive vibrations emanating from this person. When was the last time you saw him? Let me see, when was the last time that I saw him? Oh, God. I think the last time I saw him was in the 60s. We were on tour together. In Europe. Because I was living in Europe. Yeah. But he we spoke on the telephone many times. And he sent me his albums. You know, because I have a whole big record collection of his. If we could play something right now, Let's say it's one or two songs by him that are, say, favorites of yours. You know, like you said before, you know, there's so much sincerity in the man and almost anything that he plays was there because you can feel it automatically. And that was the beauty of this person from outside. Thank you. My pleasure. That was once in a while from Roland Kirk's rip rig and panic album featuring Roland Kirk on saxophone. Jackie Byron on piano. Richard Davis on bass and Elvin Jones on drum. Recorded by Rudy Van Gelder in 1965.
