We are filming today for the Hamilton College
Jazz Archive. We are in Delaware Water Gap at the Deer Head
Inn and I'm very fortunate to have one of America's great musicians, Phil Woods - clarinetist,
saxophonist and composer, sometimes journalist you just mentioned. I really appreciate you coming today. PW: Thank you. I appreciate you coming and chatting. Glad to do it. MR: A couple of weeks ago when we had a brief
conversation on the phone you said you were taking time these days to do some writing
and kind of reflecting. What do you reflect and write on these days? PW: How lucky I am to make a living doing
something I love to do; having a wonderful, supportive family; living in a wonderful part
of the world where a lot of young people know who Charlie Parker was and John Coltrane. Delaware Water Gap, you might not be aware
of it, but this venerable institution we're sitting in right now, The Deer Head Inn, has
had jazz for over 50 years. Chris and Dona Solliday, they run a three
night - at least three nights a week - Friday and Saturday and they usually have a matinee
type thing on Sunday, and there's been some great jazz played here. As a direct result of some of the jam sessions
here, I remember one night, a jam session here, there must have been ten, fifteen saxophone
players. And I said to Rick Chamberlain and Ed Joubert,
I said we should move this outside. This was about 22 years ago. And that led to, I don't know if you noticed
the stage across the street, we have a celebration of the arts which is held every year. So I was reflecting on all these good things
that are going on. So briefly -
MR: Do you feel jazz is healthier today than it has been in the past? PW: No, not really healthier. I think it's become - I don't mean to paint
a bleak picture - but jazz seems to have lost its cutting edge, it seems to be in a regressive
mode activated somehow. I mean jazz just goes on, and it's never been
so alive and well, we've never had so many kids playing music, and this is a positive
thing. I don't mean to negate the import of a kid
picking up an instrument because if he's got an instrument in his mouth he's probably less
liable to buy an assault rifle. I mean I think music is good. Any cutting back of funds for music education
is a big mistake, which we're also getting involved in. But the idea of jazz being alive and well,
every campus has a jazz program, every school has a jazz program. But I don't hear it. I just don't hear - I mean I was the last
generation to come up and actually learn from the masters direct. I mean my first band was Quincy Jones and
Dizzy Gillespie and I mean I got a chance to really one on one with the masters. I'm not indicting jazz education, I think
it's a good thing, but a university should reflect the needs of society. And society doesn't need quite as many tenor
players as we're graduating. I'd like to find a gig for all of those tenor
players. Now the jazz gigs, I mean everybody's still
playing "Scrapple from the Apple" and "Stella By Starlight" and the old war horses, which
is fine and good, but jazz should be more cutting edge. Jazz should be more now. I don't hear anybody doing like what Dolphy
did or what Ornette did. I love what John Zorn is doing. I don't know if you call it jazz. But I think the musician of the future is
not going to be just a jazz type of person. I think it's going to be more - a typical
set might be a tango, an Astor Piazzolla, a bossa nova, some pygmy music from Africa,
a little Charlie Parker, a little pre-Archie Shepp. I mean it's kind of become so collated and
codified that everybody now has the same Real Book the same fake books. This is good but it should be more aggravating,
it should stick in the craw. It's too acceptable. It's lacking color and it's lacking a bit
of humor. It doesn't quite have the humor. Where are the Zoot Sims' and the Al Cohn,
like that. In Copenhagen they said, "Al, have you tried
the elephant beer" and Al came back and said, "I drink to forget, man." I mean I don't hear that. I mean God bless the kids, but too many three
piece suits and managers. MR: Do you think that part of that comes from
trying to find its marketplace? PW: Oh I'm sure that's a lot to do with it,
yeah, I'm sure. MR: There's a couple of statements that I
read that were kind of humorous from you yourself, about part of jazz education should be getting
in a bus and riding around. PW: Yeah. Get some ill-fitting uniforms, you know, very
uncomfortable. The lightweight in winter, the heavyweight
in the summer. A bus whose windows don't open and no air
conditioning, no walkmans allowed. Everybody's got to double. All the saxophones have got to have at least
four or five cases to carry, and a big thick book of about 400 charts. Put everybody on the bus and just drive around
in circles on the campus for about twelve, fifteen hours. Then get off the bus, everybody put on these
terrible uniforms, call out a set, and the book is never in order. It's like Gene Quill style, you know, 1-2-47-93-207-5. Call out the set real quick - everybody gets
all their instruments out. Okay, put the instruments back. Put the music back. Put your book in order. Hang up your suit. Get back on the bus. Drive around for another twelve or fifteen
hours. Do it once again. And I think you might cut the wheat from the
chaff. Who wants to do this? I mean it's an exaggeration on all points,
because there are no more big bands where you could even do this. But I mean that's the way it used to be. I don't think it has to be that way. But nevertheless the hardest part of the music
business is the traveling, whether it's a bus or a plane, or just the idea of existing. I mean it ain't about playing. The playing is easy. It's all the nonsense you go through to bring
your horn up to the bandstand. That's the altar. That's the safe place. MR: Well you had said in one of your liner
notes from a recent CD that there's only a handful of players that changed jazz history. PW: Essentially I think that's true. MR: Without me stroking your ego or anything,
where do you think you fit in there? PW: Oh I'm a practitioner. I never changed jazz history. I am a bearer of the flame. I like to keep the bebop flame alive in that
sense, but I don't just play bebop. I could conceivably play that dream set I
was talking about playing, a Piazzolla and I kind of like to consider myself a complete
musician, since I'm classically trained. But as far as playing any new way, I mean
if I could have changed the course of western music I would have done so years ago. MR: Well one thing I would say I always enjoy
about your albums is you seem to really like to have some of your own - not only your own
compositions, but your own arrangements. And when you do an album it sounds like you
have a band. PW: Yeah. Whether it's with the quintet, which is - anything
that the quintet records has been well rehearsed on the road and performed a few hundred times
before we even go into the studio. So when we do record we record it as if it
was a concert. I mean we don't require more than one or two
takes tops. But even other recordings, recordings that
I would do as a guest, I like to think I'm well prepared before I go in. I do a lot of research. I like to find tunes that I haven't done before
that nobody else has done, something different, something imaginative. I'm not interested in just going down memory
lane again. MR: And digging out some of those unplayed
verses. PW: Yeah, the verses, the Great American Songbook,
my gosh, the obscure Ellington - there's so much music, we don't have to just keep playing
"All The Things You Are" I mean as much as I love it, but there are other chestnuts to
fry. MR: Let me just zoom through a couple of things
here. PW: Sure. MR: You said you took some lessons because
your uncle passed a saxophone on to you and it seemed like the proper thing to do. PW: Yes it did. Well as my mother put it, my uncle died and
left me the saxophone and I just kind of stuck it in the closet. And my mother said he went to a great deal
of trouble to leave you the saxophone, and even at the age of 12 I realized that dying
could be considered a great deal of trouble. Yeah, so my mom, she said, "well Phil you
should at least perhaps take a lesson. See what you think." So I said, "okay, Ma." And I knew nothing of music. I mean I thought you had to be anointed or
something before I even could touch the horn. And I looked in the yellow pages and just
called a music store and got a saxophone teacher. And I got the greatest teacher that I've ever
got to play with - I mean I've had a lot of teachers but I've never got a better one than
this one I just found by accident in the yellow pages. His name was Harvey LaRose, out of Springfield,
Massachusetts. And he was, I remember like it was yesterday,
I said, "Mr. LaRose, should I bring the saxophone?" I was a real natural. He said, "young man it would be a good idea
to bring the saxophone to your first saxophone lesson." So that's where I met one of the greatest
men I've ever met. He played guitar, he played flute, he played
piano, he played sax, he arranged. Not a good improviser, but he knew chords. So after I was studying for about I would
say six months - in the beginning I would go in for a lesson and we'd go through the
Rubank, the basic stuff, and I'd go home and put the horn back in the closet. I'd rather go out and play baseball. But the following week I'd go for a lesson
and I could play the lesson. I mean I didn't think anything of it. So I was very fortunate. Harvey was not only a great teacher, he was
also a very wise man in the fact that I was faking it, man. If I'd had a more traditional type of teacher,
a more old fashioned type of teacher, it could have discouraged my efforts. Say, "how dare you? You're using your ear to play music." There were such animals. So Harvey recognized the fact that I must
have a fair retentive ability and a darn good ear if I could play the lesson and he knew
I wasn't practicing. The teacher can always tell whether you're
practicing or not. So it wasn't long before I was smitten, I
mean I loved it. I mean he was so good as a teacher that I
fell in love with the idea of playing, and I got very good at it. And my lessons within a few short months,
Harvey would give me the four pop songs of the week, and he would play the piano. He would accompany me at the piano. And these were all standards, I mean I was
learning standards at the age of 12, 13 years old, and he would tell me what the chords
were and what the scale possibilities were. I mean it was a fantastic improvisation lesson. And I graduated high school at the age of
16 and I wanted to go on with my music education. MR: And you ended up at Juilliard? PW: I went to the Manhattan School of Music
for a summer course. I wanted to be in New York, that's where Charlie
Parker was. But I couldn't really tell Mom. I wanted to study too. I really wasn't sure about the jazz thing. I knew I wanted to be a musician but I didn't
know about the jazz thing. I knew it was going to be rough. But I did want to learn more about music. And in those days there was no other way to
learn music except in a conservatory or through the classical idiom. I mean there was no jazz - a few - Manhattan
School was starting up, there was a few jazzy type of schools but it didn't have the impact
that it does today. MR: Well in fact you had to major on the clarinet,
didn't you? PW: Yes. MR: To go to Juilliard? PW: Yes. As far as I know there was not a saxophone
major. I've since checked it out and it seems like
there was a saxophone major, maybe I just wasn't aware of it at the time, but it was
fairly new in the curriculum at any rate. It wasn't in the catalogue that I ever saw. I think Joe Allred was the first teacher there
and it might have been the year I actually went. But I was not interested in playing classical
saxophone. Limited repertoire. MR: Bit of an oxymoron almost. PW: Yeah. But clarinet, I think it served me well. I mean I could work on my Mozart with the
keyboard stuff work on Bach and fugal technique, and I went to composers workshops. And I heard John Cage lecture, I heard one
of the early performances of the Concord Sonata, I saw the premier of "The Rake's Progress,"
Stravinsky. I used to haunt the composer, the composer
forum over at Columbia. I heard Ussachevsky's first tape experiments
and the first music concrete, and the composition class - I was very interested in writing music
too. There was Persichetti, Henry Brant, William
Schumann, Peter Mennin, who was my teacher. Just an incredible staff. That's what I really enjoyed. I sort of minored in composition, and I pretended
to be constipated for the rest of the time, with playing the clarinet. But I was like 14th in line for the training
orchestra, so I didn't get a whole lot of ensemble work there. But at night I would study bebop, Charlie
Parker, I'd have the radio on and listen to broadcasts from Birdland and do my Species
counterpoint exercises, and then the next day I'd work on Mozart and Brahms. MR: You had it surrounded. PW: I was in the middle of NY City where it
was all happening, so I was blessed in that sense. If you can talk about being tempered in the
kiln, that was a hot place to be in the late 40s. MR: And you were playing with Charlie Barnet
on and off? PW: I took a leave of absence my last year
of Juilliard to go on the road with Barnet. I started off on fourth tenor and then on
the second tour I was playing lead alto. In fact my final exam coincided with, we were
doing a week at the Apollo Theater, which is 125th Street, and Juilliard is 122nd Street. Pretty close geographically, but philosophically
hundreds of miles apart. But yeah it was great. MR: It's interesting to think about that. You are going to do your final exam and this
whole kind of world right here, and then walk three blocks down there. PW: Well the problem was you see that between
shows I was practicing, I was doing the Stravinsky Three unaccompanied, I was going to be the
first guy to ever play that at Juilliard, to my knowledge anyway, I joined the Brahms
and Mozart, Brahms F minor, and I was practicing it at the Apollo between shows. And I thought I had my clarinet hidden away
pretty carefully. So when I showed up for the morning show,
then I had time to go do my final exam between shows, my clarinet was stolen. That was not a good point, but it all worked
out. MR: Traumatic. PW: Very strange. I said, "I can't take my exam, my clarinet
was stolen," and the teacher flipped out. It was a rather bleak day, black rock. MR: Well at what point in all this musical
activity did you decide, or did you decide, that you were going to make a career out of
jazz playing? Was it a conscious decision or did it kind
of just fall in your lap? PW: I wanted to be a musician, and I kind
of fell into the studio thing. I could always jam, I mean Springfield, Massachusetts
back in those days, we had a little bebop band with Sal Salvador, the guitar player
with Kenton, Joe Morello, who became Brubeck's drummer, the famous "Take Five" solo is Joe
Morello. Chuck Andrews on bass, he was with Woody Herman's
band when Nat Pierce was the piano player, and who am I leaving out, oh Hal Serra, a
very fine piano player. And Al Bryant on trumpet, who I think maybe
he's still out there contracting for Lionel Hampton's band. So we had a little bebop band at that time,
in fact Hal Serra and I used to come to New York to study with Tristano. Al started studying with Tristano and I said
I'd like to take some lessons, so prior to moving to New York for that summer course
in Manhattan, I was commuting from Springfield to take lessons with Tristano. So I guess I always wanted to be a jazzman. I didn't think I was really worthy. I mean I didn't know whether I had it. Like I mean I had the same doubts as any young
person does, you don't know how you are until you get out there and compete. But one thing I learned at Juilliard was that
I mean as a jazzman I always said well I can't be as good as these classical guys. There's always been that divide between the
- I mean we play classical but- even though I was a clarinet major, I was still the guy
that played the alto sax. Everybody knows who you are in a school situation. And there's the lounge lizards and then there's
the beboppers and all that. But it turned out that, not competing, but
being around all these other kids, I found out I was better than I thought I was. I mean I could play the piano. A lot of the violin players couldn't play
the piano. I mean I can play a little Bebop Bud Powell,
but it served me very well for placement in my keyboard harmony class. I could at least get around and I could read
because I worked at it. A lot of the classical people weren't quite
that concerned about it, whereas a jazzman, most jazz cats have a very nice understanding
of keyboard harmony. It kind of goes with the turf. So yeah, indirectly I always was aiming towards
being a jazzman. MR: When was the first time you saw Charlie
Parker play live, and what kind of effect did it have on you? PW: Well it's interesting because the first
music I ever played of jazz, was he gave me transcribed Benny Carter solos. And then within about a week or within that
month, Ellington came to town and I saw Hodges. And Hodges played "Mood to be Wooed." And my teacher, how wise he was, the week
before I was given that for a lesson. So here I got a chance to see Hodges. And then my friend Hal Serra and I picked
up the latest record of this guy called Charlie Parker and it was "KoKo." And another record was "Shaw 'Nuff." "Shaw 'Nuff" on one side and the other side
I think it was "How High the Moon," or maybe vice versa, but it was two different bands. And that was it. I mean between Benny Carter, Hodges and Parker
all in one dose, I said yeah, man, let me at it. I mean my course was very clear, especially
after hearing Bird. The first time I saw Bird I guess it would
be 52nd Street when I was studying with Tristano. And that was before, as I say, before I moved
to New York, it has to be '47 or something like that, before I graduated, I was still
in high school. And we'd come down, we'd take the bus to New
York and we'd have to take another subway out to Long Island and then a bus to Lenny's
house, and I forget what it was, it was $15 a lesson or something, which seemed like a
lot of bread in those days. I'd take a lesson then go back to Manhattan
and go to Romeo's and get a bowl of spaghetti, and you knew it was fresh because it'd been
sitting in the window all day, and then we'd go to Mainstream Records and get the latest
Bud and Bird and Diz, whatever we could afford, they were 78s of course in those days. And if we still have a dollar left over we'd
go to 52nd Street. I could get a Coca Cola for a dollar and I
could sit there all night man. And that's where I first heard Charlie Parker. I think he was sitting in with Milt Jackson
I believe and Howard McGhee. MR: Did he sound as good there as he did on
live TV? PW: He sure did. MR: What kind of person was he to you? PW: Sweet. Very nice. I remember one day he asked me, "did you eat
today, young man." I mean he didn't know me from a hole in the
wall, I was just another alto player looking at his heels, and he said, "did you eat today." The misconception is that Charlie Parker was
stealing everybody's money and using it to buy drugs, but he was very nice to young musicians. Sometimes that's often overlooked. A little later on - this is my only real Charlie
Parker story up close - I was working in a place called the Nut Club in the Village,
Sheridan Square. Playing for strippers, "Harlem Nocturne" ten
times a night. In fact this joint had so much class they
would hand you like little wooden hammers as you walked in the door, so you could beat
the shit out of the table for your favorite strippers. MR: Is that right? PW: Everybody got a hammer. Not the - you know they do that in Maryland
but it's to break crab claws. This is just to beat the heck out of the table. So somebody said, "Bird's across the street
jamming." And he was over at Arthur's Caf�. Arthur's Bar, which is still there to this
day, it's a little dinky joint. And I walked in and there was Bird and he
was playing on the baritone sax. Now let me just preface this, at this period
I didn't know if my mouthpiece was right, I didn't like the reed, I don't like this
horn, it's not happening, I need new stuff, you know. So I got up my nerve and said, "Mr. Parker,
perhaps you'd like to play my alto?" And he said, "that would be very nice, son." Man I ran across Seventh Avenue and I got
my horn, and I'm sitting - Bird was there and I was sitting there and the piano was
there, just a drummer, just a snare drum and a piano and Bird. And I'm sitting there. I hand him the horn. He played "Long Ago and Far Away," Jerome
Kern. And I'm listening to this guy and it seems
to me there's nothing wrong with my saxophone. The saxophone sounds pretty darn good, you
know what I mean? And he says, "now you play." And I says oh Jesus. When kids talk about being awestruck, I know
about awestruck. I did my feeble imitation of the master. He said, "sounds real good, son." Oh man, this time I flew over Seventh Avenue,
and I played the Bejesus out of "Harlem Nocturne" that night. But I mean just those few words were so important. MR: Great story. No more blaming it on the horn. PW: No I went out and practiced. MR: Right. You had mentioned Benny Carter and one little
interesting thing you said is he called you in 1961 for a record date. PW: Yeah, yeah. MR: And could you fit it into your schedule. PW: He asked if I could fit it into my busy
schedule. MR: And you said, "the only thing I have this
month is an Italian wedding for scale?" PW: That's true. MR: So '61 was not kind of like a busy -
PW: Well you've got to remember that I didn't play flute so my studio work was limited in
a sense. I mean I never did a Broadway show or that
kind of thing. But you've also got to remember that the new
writers were coming in at that point. We had Ralph Burns, Al Cohn, Brookmeyer, Manny
Albam - oh the list of writers in New York at that time is just incredible, you name
them, they were all there. And they wanted young - they didn't want the
Sam Marowitz kind of old fashioned lead alto, they wanted the new kind of bebop thing. You know I love Sam Marowitz, don't get me
wrong, but they were looking for a little different stuff to serve the music. So I was always - they would write me a clarinet
part. I didn't have to worry about the flute. I kind of did jazzier kind of things. But that wasn't every week. MR: What was scale back then? PW: Oh God I don't - forty bucks, something
like that, for a three hour session. That number jumps into my head, it could be. MR: Manny used you on - weren't you on that
record "The Blues is Everybody's Business?" PW: Oh yeah. "Jazz Giants" and "Soul of the City" oh I
did a lot of his stuff. MR: Well you found yourself in pretty good
company very quickly. Quincy Jones and Dizzy on those tours, so
you were what, in your early twenties then? PW: Um hum. Well Birdland was also very important. I got to hanging out in Birdland and on Monday
nights I worked with Jim Chapin. Jim Chapin had a band. Billy Byers did the writing for it, and Don
Stratton on trumpet. And I got a little reputation and in 1956
I was invited to be part of the Birdland All-Stars. I did a thing with East Coast meets West Coast. It was Al Cohn and myself representing the
East Coast - and I don't know how they figure these things out - and Kenny Dorham and Conte
Candoli, two trumpets and tenor and alto. And Manny Albam and Ernie Wilkins did all
the charts. And that was my first real tour. I mean meet in front of Birdland and get on
the bus - I mean meet in front of Charlie's Tavern I should say. And I mean there's Count Basie's band, there's
Lester Young, there's Bud Powell, there's Sarah Vaughan, there's Count Basie. I mean oh my God, Al Hibbler. You name it, there was all your heroes. I got on the bus, woah, like where do I go
you know. You sit in the wrong seat and you're in big
trouble. I mean some of the Count Basie guys have been
sitting in the same seat since the turn of the century. And I heard a voice, "back here, Phil" and
it was Al Cohn. And we had a seat over the wheel in the back
of the bus, right behind Bud Powell and Lester Young, right in front of us. And Quincy Jones heard me on that tour and
he was putting together, in '57, he was putting together a band for Dizzy for the Mideast
tour. And so he hired me for that. And Dizzy was very important then. I mean if you're good enough to work with
Dizzy Gillespie that does wonders for opening up other doors for you. MR: Did you like going overseas for the first
time? PW: Well it was pretty weird, I mean, first
overseas trip we landed in Abadan, Iran, I mean that was the first stop. Ten minutes later we actually hit an opium
den, I mean it was happening, Jack. Yeah, I loved it. I mean we were in all of the trouble spots
of the world. Iran, Syria, Beirut, Baghdad - oh I'm leaving
out a few - but I mean they should have sent Dizzy a few more times I think, it could have
saved a lot of trouble. MR: Was the reception positive to the music? PW: Dizzy always reached the people, yeah. Whether they understood jazz or not, they
understood the rhythmical aspects of Dizzy's music. Because Dizzy had so much rhythm and his band
also. In fact there's a new record out, Dizzy in
South America, which is the same band. If you haven't got it, check it out, it's
very exciting. So yeah, the people, I mean they didn't really
know what was happening but they liked it. MR: Did you have an opportunity at that time
to like start submitting charts to some of these people, of your own writing? PW: Yeah. I actually wrote a couple of things for Dizzy's
band. We never got a chance to try them out but
Quincy and Ernie Wilkins were giving me a hand up on the bus about writing. And I did do some writing later when I joined
Quincy's band, that was in '59. So yeah, I've always tried to do some writing
for whoever I worked with. MR: Do you find it helpful to write for individuals? PW: Oh yeah. Absolutely. MR: Does it cause problems later though, if
someone else - PW: Well then you re-write it. No it's true. I did a lot of re-writing, I made different
copies, different orchestrations. MR: I imagine just like Ellington did when
he had different soloists. PW: Yeah. MR: There's a picture here -
PW: Well it's nice to know who you're writing for, it really is. MR: You probably recall from the -
PW: "It Ain't Easy Being Greasy." Yeah. It's great, isn't it? MR: What a cast. PW: What a cast. That band lasted ten months in Europe, we
only lasted about five weeks in the States. But there are a couple of records where you
can get a chance to hear how good that band was. But that band, Billy Byers and Quincy did
all the writing for the show. The show was a remake of "St. Louis Women,"
all the Harold Arlen songs. And we rehearsed at the American Pavilion
in Brussels to put the show together. We're talking here 1959. So we rehearsed at the American Pavilion. And we had to memorize all the charts - it
was one of the great moments of my life - we'd show up at the theater for the morning's work,
and the dancers were blocking out and the singers were working with the accompanist
and all that, saxophones would go here, trombones would go here, trumpets would go there, rhythm
would go about their business. And we'd see how much music we could memorize. And then we'd put it together after lunch,
and see how far - what section could get to the furthest letter in the chart you know. And you'd be surprised, you do that for a
couple of weeks and the memory chops start to kick in and we were chewing up music. The hardest part of it, and no conductor,
I mean Martha Flowers would drop her pinkie and the woodwinds would hit man, I mean you
had to be a musician. We were behind the stairs - in that picture
you might notice the staircase, that's where the reeds were and the trumpets were over
here, so it was impossible. I mean we had to work out - when she does
that we come in, you know. But it was great fun. The hardest part was when they got to do a
re-write you'd have to forget what you just memorized and memorize a new one. That, you would scramble. But it was great fun. MR: Was that tough for Quincy to keep that
large organization- PW: When the story is told that's why Quincy
is who he is. I mean why doesn't he do more for jazz - man,
I remember we did a tour of Yugoslavia, one of the toughest tours I've ever been on in
my life, this same period. In other words, the show closed, I think the
show lasted four or five months and it folded, it never took off. It was much too hip for Europe, I mean they
didn't understand the jargon, you know the hip talk and all that, because it was a black
show essentially. So we had a meeting and Quincy said, "if you
guys want to stay together I'll try to book the band." And we all said, "yeah," I mean nobody wanted
to go home with a failed show, I mean if we got a chance at being a success. So Quincy did all of that himself, the booking,
taking the phone calls and all that. I remember one time we were so poor, I had
my family over there and I called Quincy and I said, "I don't have enough money to eat." He says, "come to town I'll give you half
of what I got." He had 200 franks, he gave me 100. After this tough Yugoslavia trip that I mentioned
it was really rough. There was not a whole lot of money. But Quincy, being a class act, instead of
just throwing us on an airplane or bus or whatever, he rented a car on the Orient Express. We had our own waiter like - somebody to take
care of us and make up your beds and get your food and all that. I mean that was class. I've always said that if Quincy calls and
needs me I'll be there in a minute, to play anything he wants. Because I love him. MR: Cool. Did you get a taste of Europe that kind of
made a good impression on you? Because you went back-
PW: Oh sure. I got a chance to realize that there's another
way, there isn't just the American way, there's other democracies that are pretty darn good
too. Yeah, I urge every young artist or young person
to jump on a steamer and go see how some other societies operate with the same problems that
we have. Some of them - we could learn so much from
some of the smaller democracies, Denmark in particular, Holland, fierce liberalism, way
ahead of us. And every country - well my God, what is it
90% of all civilizations have Medicare, a plan that's a lot superior to what we're doing
here. I mean they don't worry about that, especially
in Scandinavia, it's from birth to death you're taken care of. You pay a lot of taxes, but nobody goes broke
if you get sick. And their respect for the arts. I don't think the average guy in France wants
his daughter to marry a tenor man any more than an American guy who works in a factory
wants his daughter to marry a tenor man. But they realize the arts are important. When a building gets old they don't just rip
it down. They're older and a little wiser. America is still very young. Some day I hope we become as wise. MR: That's true if you think about it. PW: We are just kids. We'll get there. I mean I have high hopes for this country,
it's just that the growing pains are tough. It's a huge democracy. It's a lot easier to manipulate a smaller
democracy. I mean of course Holland and Denmark, they
work better, they've got a tenth of the population of what we have. But we're doing okay but we've got a long
ways to go. Sometimes it seems like it'll never get done
but there is progress being made and it's just going to take another couple of hundred
years and we'll get somewhere. MR: Did you notice any difference in the racial
relations between the band members and the audience? PW: In Europe? MR: In Europe. PW: Of course. But we could all stay in the same hotel. I mean in '56 if we went below Baltimore,
the white guys would have to go to this hotel and I mean come on. That was going on right up until the time
of the civil rights movement in the 60s. I mean that's just yesterday. So we've made some progress. I like to be positive about it. It's not fast enough and not good enough,
but we're painfully trying to get there I do believe. I think there are some good people in this
country that are trying to do the right thing. I think we've got a lot of bad people too,
and I think too many good people don't speak up. If the good people don't speak up the bad
guys win, it's really that simple. I guess everybody knows this, but sometimes
you have to stress the obvious. MR: Well your recording list, your discography
is really quite extensive. Have you had a decent success with record
companies over the years trying to play what you want? PW: Record companies? I've never had a problem. I was with Prestige, nobody told us what to
play. In those days, in the days of the independents,
they were quite willing to rip you off modestly. No I mean you always had to give your tunes
away in those days, I mean that was part of the deal. It was okay. At the time I didn't understand it but I was
really never asked to compromise the music. Never asked to compete with the majors. Whereas today, some of the big record companies
- now you're talking about a big rip. Some of these kids with the limos and stuff,
they think the record company is paying for the limos. No, kids, check the fine print. I mean it's megabucks now. They want jazz to compete with all the other
musics and it's messing it up a bit I think. Instead of just being an art music, we are
not ready to accept just an art music. And maybe we shouldn't, maybe it should be
a mass music, or at least more distribution. I don't know, I'm not a businessman, I don't
know, but I do know that it's going to change, and I think the Internet's going to change
that. The whole technology is going to change that. The way we buy records is going to be completely
different. I mean for years and years and years I heard
about it's distribution, I can't get distribution. Well it all started with 78s. They're pretty heavy. So there's only a few limited stores that
had jazz. You had to go to New York to get them. I mean I couldn't find jazz records in my
hometown. Then you got into LPs and you've still got
bulk, you know what I mean? You still need kind of a specialty store. You're not going to find them in every K-Mart
and all that. I think that in the future, you're going to
be able to tap in through your computer and your hi-fi set. If you want to get a Phil Woods record or
a Johnny Coates record or whatever, you just find it, put a blank CD in there and it'll
burn it and you've got it. You make up your own. It's happening already. So there's no more problem about distribution. It'll solve that. I mean all they need is one copy in a bank
somewhere. In other words, my music won't take up any
more room than Sting's. But if you think about it though, you don't
have to compete for space, for shelf space. And I'm also hopeful, I don't know if I'll
live to see this, but the equipment is getting so sophisticated. The reproduction with the DAT tapes and the
CDs and all that. I have a dream that a sensitive listener will
be able to tell the difference between a record that was recorded all together in a hall with
the ambience and everybody playing together, because it sounds better. You know there's nothing like hearing a band
all live. And you can always tell the difference. A musician can tell the difference between
that and a layered one that takes eight months to make. First they add the bass this month and then
- you know. And eventually people will put that on and
say, "oooh that's awful, that's one of those layered records." Which means that the only people that are
going to be able to make records are the people that can read and do it quickly. There'll be no more eight months to make a
record, we can do it the way we used to do it, you go in and do it in a week or three
days, and you've got to be a good musician. Now it's so much lame stuff. In the old days, even garbage music was played
by good musicians. Whether you were with Guy Lombardo or Vaughan
Monroe, the same guys could go with Woody Herman and cut it, or a polka band or a symphony. They could do it all. It's not that way. Just look at Berklee where they've got forty
thousand guitar players who can't even tune up. Perfect ears, no holes. MR: And where do those people end up? PW: Well I guess doing their thing and that's
fine, but I don't know what it's got to do with jazz and I don't know, it's a big clearinghouse. There's some very fine players up there, don't
get me wrong, but a lot of it is done for bread. Who wants to go to a poor school? MR: Let me ask you about a couple of musical
instances. I have a couple of things on tape here I thought
I would play for you and maybe just get your comment. [audio interlude]
PW: December '67. MR: Beautiful. Let me ask you first of all, some of those
scales coming down that you were playing - I'm not sure how to ask this question but -
PW: If I tell you I'll have to kill you. MR: You know that's not the first time that's
been said to me. Did you know what they were? Did you know what those scales were?
PW: Yes. MR: Okay. PW: I know every note I play in relationship
to whatever's going on means. MR: Well that answers my question. PW: Not to say I don't make mistakes and occasionally
come up with something different by mistake, but essentially I know, I mean I have a complete
set of screwdrivers. MR: Okay, so if you decide to play a whole
tone scale here - PW: Whatever, yeah. MR: That this is -
PW: I know my options as soon as I see whatever the chord symbol is and I try to have - whatever
the music context is I try to fit it into that. And as I say I've got all these screwdrivers,
okay, well this will work nice, or well maybe that one. The hardest thing about any art is you know
you can go this way or that way. It's making that choice. What's the best choice. Sometimes you're right, sometimes you're wrong,
but having a lot of choices is a good thing. But it can also drive you crazy. MR: But if Lester Young had done the same
thing- PW: I'm not sure that he didn't. MR: I know he did but do you believe that
he thought of it the same way you did, or was it more of an intuitive-
PW: Oh I think what you're inferring, you're talking about, he's a genius man, I'm a craftsman. Let's not mix up-
MR: Maybe we could argue about that. PW: Let's not mix up apples and oranges here. No I mean he was one of the first masters. I think he was operating on pure instinct,
although he was a well trained musician, as was the whole family. I mean that whole family was musicians and
I'm sure that all those piano lessons for all the kids, and everybody playing string
instruments and all, it had to rub off. And Prez heard all kinds of scales from all
kinds of different music and all kinds of different things. Plus his probably super normal ear - I'm not
so sure that he approached it any differently than anybody else did. I think a little more intuitive in the sense
that he was first. I mean I've had the benefit of him and Bird
and everybody else that invented jazz, but Prez was one of the early inventors. I mean it hadn't even been done yet, it was
still fresh from Trumbauer you know, who was a big influence on Benny Carter and Prez,
which is sometimes overlooked. MR: Yes. At least I've seen it mentioned from Lester. PW: Which is very interesting. MR: Do you recall the first time you heard
Trumbauer? PW: I came to the Austin High Gang late. I wasn't aware of it, as Charlie Parker man,
I kind of started in and then later on went back. MR: That particular recording with Quincy-
PW: "Quintessence." Yeah I remember it well. MR: Did you have to go out to the west coast
for that? PW: No, no that was done in New York. Oh that's before Quincy went to the west coast. I was a contractor on that date, one of the
few times Jerome Richardson wasn't the contractor. I swore I'd never do it again. I remember it was around Christmas time. He was running out of time and that was the
last tune, and we nailed it in one take and everybody was very happy to get home for the
holidays, and the record company was happy they didn't have to pay overtime. As a contractor I was just happy to get the
hell out of there. But yeah, I remember it very well. MR: You have a tone that's pretty recognized
I'd have to say. PW: I think so. I think God must be with that, I do believe
that's something you can work on to a certain degree, but if you're born with a bad tone
you're probably going to have a bad tone. I think I was put on this earth to play the
saxophone. I think my build, my physiogn-omy is kind
of made to be a saxophone player. It didn't occur to me until much later. MR: Well you and Cannonball. PW: I think so, yeah. For whatever it's worth. I believe in fate in that aspect of it. Because I could always get a good sound. I didn't have to work at it, although I did
a lot of long tones. But I got a good tone right from the beginning. I was lucky. I was blessed with a natural embouchure. I never had to scuffle with it, I never tightened
up here, I always breathed from the diaphragm, the pitch was pretty well centered, and that's
something that's in the genes. I think that comes from your parents and all
that. And my parents loved music and I think it
shows. MR: Some little quote I remember from one
critic and they commented on your placement in bebop and that you played more in tune
than almost all of them. PW: It's a nice thing to - yeah, I appreciate
that support. MR: Now here's another little cut I thought
we could - [audio interlude]
PW: A little sharp occasionally. MR: Speaking on intonation, I think it's the
tape player. PW: Everything was wearing off. MR: Let me read something you said about this. This is the "Sun Suite," correct? PW: Yeah. MR: You said, "the entire suite covers much
of my musical stages from Julliard, Charlie Barnet's band, to a beach on the Riviera,
to starving to death in California." Now first of all it seems a shame to me that
Phil Woods would be starving to death in California. PW: Well the year I spent in California I
made $3,000 man. I mean that might not be poverty level but
it's pretty close to it. I mean I wasn't looking to become a studio
man then, but it didn't work out for me at all. After the ten months I spent - after being
in Europe for five years with my own band, to go back to California, I don't know what
I was thinking. I wanted to have a swimming pool for some
odd reason. MR: Did you bring your family out there and
everything? PW: Yeah, sure. Oh yeah, Canoga Park. And it was a disaster. In fact I was actually headed back to - I
didn't know exactly where I was going - but I was going back to France. I mean I figured my sojourn in America, $3,000
that year, I said I'm going back where I understand what's happening. And I wanted to stop in New York for a minute
and just check everybody out. I stayed with Jerry Dodgion. Jerry Dodgion got a call from Michel Legrand's
manager and they had two weeks at Jimmy's, and Eddie Daniels could do the first week
and they were looking for a saxophone player. And Jerry said, "well I can't do it, but Phil's
here." Great, you know. So I got the second week at Jimmy's, and they
were recording live and we did "You Must Believe in Spring." And when people say what's the most important
solo to you, that one, emotionally is very important to me. Because that led to the formation of Michel's
company - I mean that led to a contract with RCA and we formed Griffin Productions and
it led to "Images" which won the Grammy that year. So I was actually saved from going back to
France by Michel Legrand, which is all very ironic. I mean you couldn't make this stuff up. MR: It's a great script, very creative. PW: I know, it's a great script. But that's the scoop on that. I mean I was headed home and here I was saved
by a Frenchman. That's kind of neat. And we enjoyed a long, wonderful musical friendly
relationship, and continue to be good friends. MR: Well this piece, the string parts you
said you were inspired or emulating Stravinsky in a sense. PW: I used the melody from the first [scats]
that's the tone row from one of Stravinsky's early serial pieces. I used to know the name of it but I'm just
blanking out. But I found the tone row anyway and that sparked
that part of the piece. MR: Do you remember when you recorded it if
it sounded like you thought it was going to? PW: Yeah, I was very pleased with it. So nice to have a project like that. MR: Yeah, you get free reign. PW: Big budget, and free reign to do what
you want. Yeah RCA was good in those days. MR: In those days. PW: Well yeah I mean, but they've got - we
once did a project with the same company, "Seven Deadly Sins." We did this in 1977 and it was supposed to
be "Seven Deadly Sins" circa '77. And I got seven different arrangers. I was passing out sins like the Pope man. And I got Mike Abene, Joe Rocisano, Pete Robinson,
Chris Gunning, and a couple of more, Gary Anderson. All young, kind of cutting edge writers, with
a huge orchestra. I did the seven sins, I played a lot of soprano
on it, and I played very good - I was in really good shape on the soprano and real cutting
edge, I mean very deep stuff. Wonderful music. And then after we finished up the "Seven Deadly
Sins" I took it home and lived with it for a year and then I wrote bridging sections
between each sin, and then we had dialogue. We had a poet write and there were three or
four actors who would say something apropos in the bridging sections between each of the
sins, which were kind of a connective narrative. RCA has that and doesn't even know where it
is. It's never been issued. RCA has got a Tom Harrell record, Tom Harrell
did all the arranging, also with a large orchestra. Never been issued. "Live at the Showboat" which I think is one
of the best records I've ever made has never been re-issued properly. It was re-issued under Novus, but they emasculated
it. They left all the good stuff off and kept
the Stevie Wonder and the kind of popish stuff. MR: Isn't it annoying to not - wouldn't it
be great if the person called you and said, "we're going to re-issue this, would you come." PW: It would be nice but I mean even worse
than that was the year that won the Grammy, it won a Grammy and it was taken off the market
six months later. I mean they didn't even recall it to put the
little sticker on it. It just kind of languished in the bin and
then, I mean they wouldn't do it to any other music. You wouldn't do it to polkas, to rock & roll
to classical, why do you do it to jazz? Where do they get off? But anyway during that period RCA was doing
real good stuff but that was a direct result of Michel Legrand and Griffin Productions. Nat Shapiro was involved with that. I don't know if you know who Nat Shapiro is,
a nice writer. MR: Do you write at the piano? PW: No. I sketch maybe. No I usually write at the couch. Usually when I'm practicing I'll come across
something I like and I have a lot of little notes and stuff. Little patterns or something that I find intriguing. And then I'll take that to the keyboard and
see where we can go harmonically with it, I mean if it's worthy of pursuit. And then it might just sit there for a while. And then when I do get ready to write I write
at the computer. That way I can hear everything. But the piece is usually finished. I should say I orchestrate at the computer. I have a pretty good idea of how the piece
is going to go. Occasionally I'll have to change or re-write,
but usually it's finished in my head before I even sit down at the computer. But it's a lot of time with the horn and then
at the keyboard and noodeling, and a long gestation period. MR: You've dabbled with electronics in the
past? PW: Sure. MR: Has it been satisfying for you? PW: It's not my strong suit but I'm glad I
checked it out. I'm always interested in what's going on,
sure. But I think there comes a time when you say
enough of the new doodads and whatever the new stuff is. After playing for 50 years you've got to kind
of find your strengths. And I think my strengths are in playing a
song well, and being able to improvise within a set of changes. So I'm not concerned with experimentation
anymore. I'm just trying to get the core of what I
do best. MR: What was your reaction to the music of
Archie Shepp and Coltrane in the latter parts of his career anyway, Ascension and Ornette. PW: I was more smitten with Dolphy. He was a dear friend. I love it. I love Anthony Braxton's stuff. I love what those guys are doing. It's a lot better than a bunch of old guys
sitting around in the garage playing "Scrapple." I'm pretty tired of that. I mean that's what an artist does - pushes
it to the edge. Yeah, I'm all for that. Whether it's my cup of tea has nothing to
do with it. Jazz should not be played to make other jazz
people feel comfortable. MR: That's a statement I'd like to hear again. PW: Do you understand what I'm saying though? MR: Yeah. PW: I mean I didn't agree, I wasn't interested
in going where John Coltrane went, but I'm so glad he did. I think elements of what Trane and Ornette
did I utilize, I shouldn't say I didn't. But nobody was freer than Charlie Parker. And since I'm a well-trained musician, I mean
nothing's going to surprise my ears. I've listened to Ives since I was a kid, I
mean I listened to Stravinsky since I was a kid. There's no big deal about a plus nine, or
a poly chord or Cecil banging the keyboard. It's all been done, it's all been done. But to be able to say something in that, to
keep that identity, like people like Trane or Dolphy and Ornette did, now that's art. That we need more of. I'd like to hear more of that. John Zorn fits this category. He's got a band called Masada, and they've
got - it's funny - they'll go to the theme from "Batman" then they'll go to a tune then
they'll go somewhere else. Just what we were talking about. Big wide pallet and spacey, funny, exciting
and he also writes. He writes for the philharmonic, he writes
string quartets, he writes movie music, I mean he does it all. This is my kind of guy. I'd like to hear more of that. I'm really not so interested in what Buddy
Bolden sounded like. I couldn't care less. Let the man rest. And I hear from people that were there say
the cat couldn't blow his nose anyway, so we're not going to hear him. Okay, let's get on with it. MR: You're not going to hear him, that's right. It's interesting because you look around the
country and you see the Bix Beiderbecke festivals still-
PW: You know we have to have tributes all the time as an excuse to play jazz. Why not just play? It's a different world. I'm not sure jazz is apropos anymore. I mean I have my question about whether it's
going to be around or whether it's becoming extinct in the form that I know it. I hope it does evolve into something. I think it must. Otherwise it's going to be like Dixieland
in Switzerland. Everybody's got the red suspenders and they
all play the stuff, and bebop has got that same problem. You know the guys are still playing the wrong
chords man, having a wonderful time. MR: They've been playing them wrong for so
long they think they're right. PW: It's not going to get it on. But there are also some very fine artists,
if you don't need too many of them to change the planet. MR: Well there certainly is enough experimentation
that goes on in the rock world. It's a shame - you haven't heard any? PW: Well I like some of what the hip hop guys
are doing more than the rockers, I still have trouble with those chords. I mean I haven't heard-
MR: It's not so much a chordal thing, it's just a mixture of I guess different musical
influences. PW: Oh I'm sure there's a whole lot that I'm
not aware of. I'm glad to hear that. MR: Let me mention a couple of other musicians
that you may have rubbed elbows with, and what's your impression. PW: Or raised elbows with. MR: That too. Miles? PW: Always right next to me. Always very kind. Yeah in fact Miles is probably more responsible
for my career than a lot of people realize. When I first signed with Prestige and I just
did my first record Miles came by the office to see Bob Weinstock about something and Bob
had a mock-up of the cover of my first record. And Miles said, "heard that guy at Birdland
last night, he can play." Now Bob Weinstock - Miles Davis is saying
to the owner of the company that I can play? Who knows what might have gone on if Miles
had not given me that little boost. And as I say he was always very kind. I never had any problem with Miles. MR: How about Cannonball? PW: Oh, my man. Also a very kind man. Very funny man. Yeah it broke my heart when he went, it really
upset me. We were pretty close. And he was very kind. He said some nice things about me which I
always appreciated. One of the early supporters and that meant
a lot from somebody of his caliber. MR: I can't recall - did you guys ever have
a chance to record together? PW: We recorded together but I was just sitting
in the section. The big band thing - Oliver Nelson I believe
it is "Abstraction" or - I forget the name of the piece - "Domination." But we hung out a lot. MR: You, and probably Jerome was there. PW: Well I knew him real well in the fact
that when I was working at the Nut Club, '53, '54 or something like that, and Jackie McLean
came by, because Jackie was in the area and we knew each other pretty well. I said, "come on with me." He said, "where?" I said, "come on." Went to the Bohemia. Now you know Bird had just died, so it had
to be '55 or something, whatever. Bird was gone. So Jackie and I figured we might get a gig. I mean it's kind of cold but nevertheless. Trying to find the positive in spite of the
tragic loss. And we went in and there was Oscar Pettiford's
band and Cannonball was sitting in - this guy was sitting in, it was Julian. And I remember Jackie and I were at the back
of the hall and we were listening to this son of a bitch, and in unison we looked at
each other and said, "oh shit." Like in one voice. Where did this guy come from? MR: He filled the hole. PW: Quick, baby. But what a man. And then I got to know him real well when
I moved to Europe. We did a tour where we used to open for Cannonball. The European Rhythm Machine would open and
Cannonball would do the second half. We got a chance to travel and that was great
fun. MR: What about Gil Evans? PW: I did the one recording with him, but
he used to come sit in at the Nut Club where I played with the hammers, the strippers. He used to come and sit in. MR: That's great. PW: Yeah. He'd bring Teddy Kotick - it was Mitch Abelowitz's
gig, who was my drummer, and John Early was the trumpet player. And occasionally Gil would - because we'd
have jazz between shows and after the shows, and it went pretty late. So Gil used to come and sit in, so I knew
him pretty well. And I did the one project, the one record
with him. I forget the name of it. MR: And you've had your forays into the pop
field as a soloist, with Billy Joel- PW: Yeah Billy Joel, I did Paul Simon "Still
Crazy After All These Years," Phoebe Snow, a couple of others that allude me at the moment. MR: Can you recall when you did the thing
on "Just the Way You Are," how many takes did you get on that? PW: Oh one or two tops. Oh yeah it was just me and Phil Ramone in
the booth. And he had the changes written on the back
of a matchbook cover or something. But it was like a Pop tune. A pop tune in the sense of a Broadway Tin
Pan Alley kind of song. It wasn't really a rock & roll song, it's
really a pretty nice tune. So it was not a problem. Yeah I did Phoebe Snow's overdub and Billy
Joel in the same day - the same half hour. MR: Was he producing both of those? PW: Yeah. MR: Same half hour. PW: Yeah. And I got $700 for both things. $350 apiece. MR: I'm glad to hear that. And a Grammy thing. PW: You know in those days, I mean from Mike
Brecker on, from that period, when they would use soloists, it was kind of SOP, you'd ask
for a quarter of a point. If a tune from the album was taken out and
made a single, you'd get a quarter of a cent on every single that they made taken from
the album, if you're the soloist on it. My manager didn't know anything about this
stuff and I sure didn't know anything about it. But you know we could have got it, all we
had to do was ask. You know how much a billion quarter of a pennies
are? That's a lot of money. That record sold over a billion, biggest selling
record of all time. But I mean I would have had the money but
I wouldn't have had such a good story. MR: That's true. It does come off nice on tape. PW: But I've heard my solo played by lounge
bands in Poland, and I always go, "hi I'm Phil Woods, nice job on my solo." People crack up. But I've heard it in Canada, Mexico, you name
it. I got a lot of mileage on it. The best was a young saxophone player that
came up to me once, somebody says, "are you the guy on the Billy Joel record?" I said, "yes I am young man." He said, "have you done anything on your own?" I said, "a couple of things." MR: That's a good one. PW: That's a good one, it's true, all true. MR: I found another quote that I liked from
you. And it was I think in regard to the "Sun Suite"
record, and after talking about the music said, "I am going to wait and see if it touched
the public because that after all is the big kick." So the public response to your work - I mean
it almost goes without saying, but not in all cases with musicians. PW: I have a nice support group. I mean you've got to remember that - not remember,
but like for instance Bill Goodman, Steve Gilmore and I, we've been working together
for 26 years now. Now we're not household names, but we have
a very nice audience around the world because we've garnered the audience the old fashioned
way. We've gone around for 25 years playing in
small joints for a hundred and two hundred people at a time. So we go back and we get maybe 250. I mean it's not the megabucks that anybody's
interested in. But nevertheless if I could sell them all
a record I'd be very happy. MR: Well that answers my question. PW: But I think that's the best way to build
an audience. And that's the most rewarding thing of all. I mean some couple that comes up there and
they say, "we were married to 'Round Trip'" or "your music means so much." I mean that, come on - believe me I'm honored
to get prizes and all that, but to have the music mean something to people on that level,
you can't buy that man, that ain't for sale. MR: And you've got a jazz tutor program out. PW: Yeah. For CD ROM. Not moving as well as we'd like it, but I
haven't seen anybody doing one any better. It's a great product. I'd recommend it to kids. It's under a hundred bucks and it's got my
whole method in there, because I no longer teach. I taught pretty near 50 years. My dentist actually, Dr. Bill Terman, is a
very fine clarinetist, was the guy who sponsored it, was the bread man, he paid for it. He's quite a computer guy and his son is a
great programmer. So that's why we did the CD ROM. But it's not for Mac so it doesn't get much
play in the schools. But it gets more play in Europe. Spain they love it for some odd reason. Australia it's doing very well. But not as well as we'd like. But it's still in the catalogue. MR: Any future projects coming up that you'd
like to mention? PW: Yeah I'm going to do a four alto thing. I toured with it in Europe about a year ago. It was John Gordon - he didn't tour but the
recording would be John Gordon, Vince Herring and Jesse Davis and myself. Four altos. I've already written the music. I want to do that, and I want to do a second
big band album with the festival orchestra. We just did a gig at the college here a couple
of nights ago. I've got a whole bunch of new music I'm writing
for that. I'm going to do a second album. And I just keep on keepin' on. Do as best I can. MR: Jazz has been pretty good to you. PW: Oh yeah I have no complaints. MR: You've been real good to jazz. PW: It's been a great life. MR: Do you have advice for aspiring jazz musicians
that might help them in their careers? PW: Advice for young jazzmen. No. I figure that if they're going to do it, no
matter what I say they're going to do it. It's for those ones in between, those ones
that aren't really sure, those are the ones I worry about. I mean I think jazz is only for those that
have no choice. I think if you're a young man and you're entertaining
thoughts of becoming a brain surgeon or a jazz tenor man, I'd go with the brain surgery,
you know what I mean? If you have a choice. If you've got two burning desires, don't pick
jazz. I mean keep playing it, I mean sometimes I
envy the amateur, like all those dentists and doctors who play for kicks. They don't have to worry about making bread
at it. They really enjoy making music. And that's really what it's about. Never forget that joy, that first time you
made a note and it made you feel good. Musicians kind of forget that stuff, you know,
they're sitting in the pit and reading The Wall Street Journal and grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. They forgot that feeling, that burn of the
belly the first time they sounded decent. And it's easy to get kind of trapped into
just making some bread and trying to exist when the bloom is off the rose. But a young man should consider - you only
have one life. When you make a choice, a career decision,
it should be well thought out. Not too carefully structured mind you, but
I wouldn't rush into anything. I wouldn't rush to go to a jazz school or
any university. I always recommend take a year off man. Hitchhike around the world. Take your horn and see if you can play for
your supper around the world. See what life is about while you can, before
you have a family, before you need bread. Get a couple of thou and just do it. Just do it, man. Take a chance. Because you might never have a chance to do
it, and that's when you can really kind of get inside your head. It's hard to do it when you're surrounded
by your peers or family or the pressures of society that you know - go somewhere where
it's all fresh and pursue your - find out who you are. And then when you decide, you're going to
be a much better player for this experience. MR: Well I think you just gave some good advice
in spite of yourself. PW: Darn. There goes my image as the curmudgeon. MR: Just to wrap up, if you had someone at
our school or whomever is watching the tape and said man, he's got a lot of great things
to say, I think I'd like to listen to Phil Woods, could you pick out five or so of your
favorite recordings? PW: Well I mentioned "Showboat" I like very
much. I like "Live at Jimmy's" with Michel Legrand
because of the emotional import of "You Must Believe in Spring," "Images" I think, "Floresto
Canto" - I like some of the orchestral things. Anything with the quintet I'm really proud
of all the quintet stuff, whether it's with Hal Crook or Tom Harrell or Brian Lynch. We spent a great deal of time grooming our
records. We kind of make the very best product we can. And 90% I think we've succeeded. I'm not embarrassed by any of the quintet
recordings. I'm not generally embarrassed about any musical
endeavor except maybe "Greek Cooking." But luckily you can't find that one either. MR: Let me see if I have this - one of my
favorite tunes off this was "A Sleepin' Bee" PW: "A Sleepin' Bee" I knew you were going
to play that. MR: Did you have a feeling when you did this
record that, yeah, oh we've got a good one in the can. PW: Yeah. I think it felt pretty good. Yeah, I did. That was a great period. MR: And you had the extra fellas, a guitarist. PW: Well Harry was a regular member of the
band, Harry was a regular member. We just added the percussionist because of
the "Brazilian Suite." A lot of people liked the idea that I sided
"Cheek to Cheek" with the Ibert, the cadenza, showing how hip I am. MR: That's a bear of a piece in itself. PW: Yeah. That came out well. It's a good band. I like "Flash," the Concord came out very
well, I like the little big band stuff. They're all my kids man, I mean we put a lot
of care and love into making records. To pick the desert island one, bring them
all. MR: They're not 78s so it's not bad. PW: That's right. They make a nice stocking stuffer. MR: Right. All right well I really appreciate you coming
out here. PW: My pleasure, Monk, I enjoyed talking with
you. MR: It's nice to sit in this kind of historical
little atmosphere here. PW: Oh there's a lot of history here, man. MR: You'll have to keep me informed when your
festival is. PW: Make sure you pick up a catalogue and
get on the mailing list here. Because we have some great stuff here, we
really do. PW: Some good music. MR: Okay. Thanks so much.
