Ahmad Alaadeen

Taken and Transcribed by Roger Atkinson
Photographs by Matthew Peake

JAM: (Talking about pianist Oscar Williams) I first heard him a couple of years ago playing with David Basse at the Fairmont . He played okay, but seemed tentative; I don't know how else to put it. Then late last year, I'd hear him at the Sunday night jams at YJ's, with Loren Pickford and Micah Herman. You could see the hesitancy going away. Then a couple of months ago I heard him with Loren at Truman's. Micah made a comment that he had never heard Oscar play this well. And I think he was even better the other night (at the Blue Room) with you. He's quickly become one of the pianists to hear in town.

ALAADEEN: He's got a lot going for him, if he keeps it up.

JAM: So, let's start at the start. When were you born?

ALAADEEN: July 24, 1934 .

JAM: I guessed about that. The “front porch” story on your Web site, saying your were five when you heard Bird practicing at Jay McShann's…so that was really an inspiration when you were five?

ALAADEEN: Sure, when you're a kid, and when you hear something that excites you, that's possible to do, it's straight ahead from then on.

JAM: So when did you start playing?

ALAADEEN: I got my first saxophone in the sixth grade; it was an alto. There was a music store in town called Bohart's around 13th and Grand. They had this alto, and they wanted ninety dollars for it. I begged and cried, you know, and finally got it. Then I started in elementary school with this teacher, Paris Jim Jones ; he was a violinist. Then after that I went to R. T. Coles and was under the tutelage of Leo H. Davis . That was really my start really loving the music because he had so much to offer. That was like a trade school or an academy, because I had four hours of music every day, freshman through senior year, plus an hour of theory; at that time they called it harmony. The school was at 19th and Tracy , so I'm right down in the jazz district. It was fascinating. In fact, I had my Union card when I was a sophomore in high school. Leo Davis, by being the school teacher, was also the director of the municipal band, which was a concert band that would play by the park, Paseo Park . I also played an E-flat horn, called a peck horn, played the afterbeat on the marches and stuff like that. I played second horn in the band and got my first Union card.

JAM: What was your first professional gig?

ALAADEEN: The first jazz gig I got paid for, I think it was with a guy named Richard Smith who was also Secretary/Treasurer of the Union . They had two unions back then. That was Local 627. We would go out and play jobs at the country clubs or wherever. I think that was my first professional job, made about thirteen dollars. Not much, but it was nice.

JAM: You have some other formal musical training also, including the Kansas City Conservatory. Was this typical of musicians that came up with you?

ALAADEEN: It was unique in a way. The Conservatory at that time didn't have a saxophone teacher! I studied flute. This was in 1951, 1952.

JAM: Was Bob Brookmeyer there at that time?

ALAADEEN: I don't recall that name. I remember Willie Rice and Jay McShann as being students at the Conservatory. They may have known Bob Brookmeyer. But they talk about a guy named Herb Six , a piano player.

JAM: So that was more legit training?

ALAADEEN: Right. I got my jazz training on the streets (laughs). The guys would always tell you things if they saw something in you, some promise in you. A guy by the name of Clifford Jenkins, an alto player, he helped me a lot. And Eddie Saunders, guys like that, they helped me. And then I got a chance to hear about it, because by Charlie Parker being from here, all kinds of musicians would come through just to see what kind of city Kansas City is, that produced somebody like Charlie Parker. So I got the chance to hear guys like Sonny Stitt and Dexter and all of those guys.

JAM: I feel lucky to have seen them before they passed on. When Dexter Gordon came to Baltimore , in must have been 1976 or 1977, it was like he was bigger than life. I don't recall ever being so excited, the anticipation of Dexter Gordon coming to the Famous Ballroom. 9:12 .

ALAADEEN: He was tough. Oh, I'm leaving something out. There was a kid band, made up of students, under the direction of Eddie Baker. We had a seven-piece group. I was playing baritone saxophone at that time. We used to play an hour and a half on Sunday nights at midnight ; the club would open up again from 12:00 until 1:30 . This was at a joint called the Orchid Room, at Twelfth and Vine. We were the sensation of the town, these little kids, you know, playing James Moody arrangements, stuff like that. So that may have been my first gig. I think I might have made ten dollars off of that!

JAM: I was amazed at the most recent Downbeat poll, where so many of the musicians voted as the best on their instrument were almost elder statesmen: Sonny Rollins, Jack DeJohnette, Andrew Hill, and others. At one point jazz was a young person's music, dominated by younger innovative players. Does the change surprise you?

ALAADEEN: Well, that has a lot to do with the way jazz is taught today. Back in the day there was no jazz studies program. You learned by hitting and missing. In that way you were able to find your own style and bring something to the table. The young players today are regurgitating. It sounds good, they can play fast and clean and it's well executed, but it's nothing new.

JAM: So Sonny Rollins is still the master.

ALAADEEN: He's still got it.

JAM: How were you able to sort out all the influences, all the great and varied musicians that you heard, then have your own style emerge?

ALAADEEN: It takes a long, long time before you can come into your own. You have to have a starting point. I've had several strong influences. First, Charlie Parker. Then here comes Miles Davis. And then here comes John Coltrane. What I call the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost! The three guys I love most! They are three distinct personalities, but they had an effect on me because they were so real in what they were playing, and they were spontaneous. They were something different I had never heard before, so I began to emulate and imitate that. Put it all together, mix it all up. It's like what Coltrane said, everybody dips out of one big bowl. Everybody is contributing. So, that's the way I learned. Eventually I began to play from within myself, because I had something to say other than what they had influenced me with.

JAM: Did you have any recording activities in the ‘50s and ‘60s?

ALAADEEN: I think I only recorded with Jay (McShann), then I recorded with a band called the Chicago Jazz Trio Plus Two, but I never recorded with any of the cats.

JAM: You mentioned Chicago ; you've lived in a number of different places. What were your travels?

ALAADEEN: At an early age…sometimes things get a little fuzzy, because of the habits I had at that particular time; I was not always pristine and clean like I am now. I lived in New York for a short time, but had to leave due to circumstances. Then when I tried to clean myself up, I lived in Chicago , played in a restaurant called the Salaam Restaurant. I played there for a while and got the chance to meet Lester Bowie and cats like that. This was in the ‘60s. When I met Lester, he was married to this R&B singer, Fontella Bass, and he was working on getting the Art Ensemble together with Malachi Favors and guys like that. Joseph Jarman. I used to go over to his house and listen to him, and he would come hear me play at the restaurant. Then I met this piano player; he teaches somewhere in Connecticut now. They had this organization that met on Saturdays.

JAM: Richard Muhal Abrams.

ALAADEEN: Yeah, Richard Abrams. I got a chance to meet him and hear what he had to offer. Then something happened and I got out of Chicago .

JAM: Was the Art Ensemble an influence?

ALAADEEN: No, I was still into the melodic thing. I love melody now, you know. I could do that if I choose to, but that's not my cup of tea. Then I was in the Army, was in San Antonio , then I lived in Denver , and eventually came back here in the ‘70s. I started teaching at the Charlie Parker Academy in about 1975 I think. Eddie Baker was the director.

JAM: We interviewed Scott Robinson; he talked about hanging at the Academy.

ALAADEEN: Yeah, I remember Scott, and also a young guitar player, he and Scott and Charles Perkins.

JAM: At the reception for Dan White's jazz photography exhibition at the American Jazz Museum , you told some stories about running into Miles Davis and things like that.

ALAADEEN: This was back when I was in high school. They were advertising that Miles Davis was coming to play at the Boulevard Room. Back at that time these guys would travel around and barnstorm, travel to different cities and play as singles with whoever the local rhythm section was in that particular town. So Miles comes in; I think he was there for a week or two. We found out where he was staying so we went up to visit him; I had my horn, my friend had his trumpet. We went to the desk and asked what room Miles was in. We went up and knocked on the door, knocked and knocked, and finally Miles came to the door, naked. He says, “What do you little (famous Miles expletive, plural version) want?” We said, “We come to see you, man.” He looks at us and says, “Come on in.” We went in and sat down, and he went back to bed. This was about 8 or 9 o'clock in the morning. He slept until around noon . We're still sitting there. He comes out and says, “Are you (same expletive) still here? Are you hungry?” He gave us some money and told us to go across the street and get some salami and crackers and a pickle. We did that. But we made the mistake of getting a hot pickle. He bit down into this pickle and started cussing, “What are you trying to do? Yang, yang, yang”, you know. He cussed us out bad.

JAM: There was another story from when you subbed in the Ellington band. Maybe not your best moment…

ALAADEEN: That was my worst moment, there! Ever! I was subbing for Jimmy Hamilton. And I didn't know it. I got tricked into the job, really. There was a guy named Herman Bell, a little tenor player, a local guy. He was supposed to make the job. But I think he smelled a rat, too. He said something came up and he couldn't make it, would I make it? Of course I said “yeah.” He said I had to bring my clarinet. Now, I can read clarinet parts, but not to be a soloist. Especially not in Jimmy Hamilton's category. He's a virtuoso. And the book was all messed up, it wasn't in order, you had to look for the tunes, some of them were chewed up. Parts of the tunes were missing. I began to tremble right then; I know I'm in deep stuff now. So Cootie Williams, he was still alive then, still in the band, but he wasn't sitting with the band, he was sitting at a table. When it came time for him to come up, he would come up from the table and play. So they were going into “Mood Indigo.” I was supposed to take the clarinet up front, with Cootie Williams and somebody else, and play my part. I didn't even know what my part was supposed to be! It wasn't written out. They were talking to me, telling me to get up, I just put my head down; I'm not going up there. So it was a horrible night. Very humbling. By the way, Kenny Garrett was in the band, too, playing alto.

JAM: When did you start playing soprano?

ALAADEEN: Probably when I started playing at City Lights restaurant. With David Basse and Tim Whitmer, Laverne Barker, and a percussionist by the name of Jano Mossman . That would be in the ‘80s.

JAM: So it wasn't like after the first time you heard Coltrane play it?

ALAADEEN: No, I had never even thought about playing soprano. Then the spirit hit me. I think I got one cheap, that was the incentive. I've fallen in love with it.

JAM: Do you play much alto? I see one sitting over there; I don't think I've heard you play alto.

ALAADEEN: No, I only play that on special occasions. That alto is a historical alto. It belonged to John Jackson, who was second alto player in Jay McShann's band. This is the same alto that Bird used to borrow. When John died, his wife gave it to the Charlie Parker Foundation, and Ed gave it to me, so I've had it ever since. So when they have the Twenty-one Sax Salute out at the grave, I take the alto out and play it there. So on August 27 when they have the salute, I'll take it out.

JAM: Was it with the Charlie Parker Academy that you first got into jazz education?

ALADEEN: Yeah, that was the steppingstone.

JAM: What kinds of educational things have you done?

ALAADEEN: I've been all over, as far as Washington , D.C. , all over the state of Missouri , Texas , Arkansas , all over the Midwest . Nebraska , at the University of Nebraska . Workshops and clinics.

JAM: Has that become a bigger piece of what you do?

ALAADEEN: No, what I do is concerts, concerts throughout the Midwest, Oklahoma , Missouri , Nebraska . I do some private students, I have a couple of students. I used to take beginners, but I don't do that anymore. They have to have some kind of background.

JAM: About eleven years ago, you started ASR Records. I hadn't realized that ASR released recordings other than your own. Like Sumi Tanooka and Chris Clarke.

ALAADEEN: Yeah, some other artists. I'm not responsible for any of that. Do you know Chris Burnett? He can fill you in on the technical side of ASR Records. It's pronounced “ahsser.” At the beginning I was doing it for myself. Then when Chris came to town he expanded and got these other artists interested. We don't finance the artists. We just have a platform where they can exhibit. You know, now is when CD sales are at its lowest. A lot of companies have even dropped jazz from their portfolio. Folks can download now, where they can just get one cut.

JAM: Do you have any new recording projects in the works?

ALAADEEN: I'm in between. I want to do a thing called Ballads and Blues, where I play ballads and sing blues. I promised myself that if I ever got a band I'd sing blues. I was always fascinated with guys like Eddie Vinson and T-Bone Walker, Little Willie John, all these blues singers. I've accumulated an audience that likes to hear me sing.

JAM: The other night at the Blue Room was the first time I heard you sing.

ALAADEEN: I don't do it as a rule, more when I have the spirit.

JAM: At the end of the first set, you said that in the second set we'd have some authentic Kansas City blues singing. My first reaction was to look around the audience, see who was there that I hadn't noticed.

ALAADEEN: That's what I wanted to happen! That was part of the setup.

JAM. It worked. Where did the name of your band, Group 21, come from?

ALAADEEN: It was the start of the 21st century, so I called it Group 21. Before that, I called the band the Deans of Swing. And that name came from the high school I went to. There was a big band there called The Deans of Swing. And the McFadden Brothers' father danced with the band, he was one of the acts. I got a lot of flack from the old guys back there, using that name.

JAM: Do you still travel much?

ALAADEEN: Some. I'm doing a clinic in September or October sometime, a clinic in the day, a concert that night. I'm taking Oscar.

JAM: You seem to enjoy working with the younger musicians.

ALAADEEN: Yes, I do this by choice. The older guys don't keep up with what's going on currently. They remember the good old days. They basically stay back and play some things like “Satin Doll” and all. Although I'm a certain age I have a futuristic perspective on the music. I still practice on a daily basis. The young cats seem to be attracted to me! They jump at the chance to play with me.

JAM: You could tell that, especially watching Oscar, he seemed to be excited to be on the bandstand with you. Seemed to be treating it as an honor. Oscar's emotions show.

ALAADEEN: I give him free reign. I encourage him to take chances. I never tell him “Oscar, you're playing too many notes” or “Oscar, that's the wrong chord.” I tell him, “You can never develop yourself until you start playing, Oscar.” So he bought into that. He played “Round Midnight” and didn't have a clue. Someone in Lawrence took all his music. He called me, apologizing, he was scrambling. I told him not to worry about it. But he played “Round Midnight” like he played it all the time.

JAM: He played “Nardis” without any apparent nod to Bill Evans, which I would have thought to be impossible.

ALAADEEN: I wrote a song called “Salaam, Shalom, Peace.” I had the chords of the intro written down; he told me flat that he wasn't going to play it! I told him, “Oscar, you play the intro, I'll just come in on the refrain.” So that's the way we played it.

JAM: Do you have any most memorable performances? Ones that stick out as highlights?

ALAADEEN: Most memorable (thinking)…I need to think about this a minute. One of the most memorable was playing with the Basie band the first time. That was really something. This was when Frank Foster had the band. He called me, to sub for Kenny Hing, who was the first tenor player. It was weird, the first tune they played was “A Train,” and this is the Basie band! And I had the first solo. I guess I played all right, because the trombone player sitting behind me hit hit hit me with the slide when I was done, so I figured I got past that. But the night just went beautifully. And the next memorable occasion was the second time I played in the Basie band! I subbed for the second tenor, and I had to play “One O'Clock Jump.” For that solo, I went back in the day, saw myself as Ben Webster. After that, Kenny said to me, “Man, you sounded just like Kansas City !” “Well, I'm from Kansas City !” These were gigs here in Kansas City .

JAM: Was Freddie Green still in the band?

ALAADEEN: No, this was after that. And Will Matthews was not in the band yet. You know, when I first formed a band I had Will Matthews and Tyrone Clark on bass. Will was actually a funk guitar player.

JAM: You also backed up some of the Motown groups. How did that happen?

ALAADEEN: I was in a band called Lee Harris and the Teardrops. They would just call us. This guy named Alvin Bell, a booking agent, would call us. We'd go everywhere, man. Oklahoma , Washington , everywhere. Those acts would be without a band and we'd just go there and play with them. Do the rehearsal and play the gigs.

JAM: Was that pretty cool?

ALAADEEN: It was cool with me! I wasn't a big R&B fan, but the money was good (laughs).

JAM: There was a lot of talent there.

ALAADEEN: I only realized lately how excellent they were. I didn't have as much respect for them at that time. I thought it was beneath jazz. But as I look back, I see that these guys were excellent in that field. But I just didn't like that particular field. Now I did get a big kick out of Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson. He sang the blues but played jazz alto. As a matter of fact, he wrote “Four”, that Miles Davis stole and said he wrote it. Eddie Vinson wrote that song. Then he wrote stuff for Cannonball. He talked about the time he kidnapped Bird and took him to Texas . And wouldn't feed him. Until he showed him some stuff on alto! He said his mom was in the kitchen frying some chicken and Bird was smelling that chicken and dying. Eddie said, “You have to show me something on that alto first!” You know, Eddie spent a lot of time here in Kansas City . He played at this joint at 19 th and Vine, the Mardi Gras. Russ Long was playing with him. Sometimes Frank Smith would play with him.

Actually some of the best memories occurred at the Union , what we call the Foundation now. Like hearing the Basie band rehearse with Billy Eckstine. Or hearing a session with Sonny Stitt and John Jackson. Or meeting Quincy Jones. There was a tenor player named Joe Thomas; I was playing in his band, and Lionel Hampton's band was in town at that particular time. Quincy had written out one of Joe Thomas' solos as a composition, and brought it to the rehearsal. Quincy kept asking him, “Man, do you remember this? This is your solo off of such and such.” That blew Joe away. I was still in school then, I think. I have had the best education for being a jazz musician that anybody could ever hope for. The people I had contact with. Meeting Bird, shaking his hand, all of that kind of stuff. Talking and hanging with Miles. Hanging out at the Bowl with Dexter and those guys.

JAM: The Bowl?

ALAADEEN: At 12th and The Paseo. There's like a median but it's up high. That was called The Bowl. You go up those steps—not anybody could go up there! They'd run you off! But they let me come. I'd be up in the bowl hanging with the cats. Like royalty. I couldn't want anything more in wanting to be a jazz musician; I've had it, education-wise, word of mouth. There was sweat equity in acquiring the knowledge. Now you go into the classroom and the knowledge is given to you.

Innovators only come along so often. Louis was in the 1920s, then Bird didn't come along until the 1940s and 1950s. Then there was a quick succession, Bird, Miles, Coltrane, because there was a lot of contact. They were alive when Bird was here. We're still living off of the influence from that era. It'll be a minute because of the educational value now. Somebody has to go into isolation and be cut off from everything before anything becomes new. It'll be somebody from Bokeegee , Alabama , somebody who has been out in the woods; he'll come up and people will say “Uh-oh, here it is!” You know, Bird studied out of a violin book that somebody gave him. If you ever see a violin book, you'll see that is how he played, there are no breath marks. He was an incredible intellect. People wonder why, when he was in the band, why he was sitting so much higher than the other saxophonists. That's because he was sitting on the music, he had it all memorized! The whole book.

 

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