Ahmad Jamal - The Len Lyons Interview

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“His technique has scarcely changed over the years and remains closer to Eroll Garner than to anyone else, concentrating on fragile textures and calligraphic melodic statements, rather than the propulsive logic of bebop piano.”

- Richard Cook and Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.

“Ahmad Jamal never attained the level of celebrity that Garner, Peterson, Shearing, and Brubeck did, but for a relatively short period in the late fifties, his trio reached a mass listenership. His recordings of "Poinciana" and "But Not for Me" (Argo) were especially popular. He is a different kind of virtuoso who uses his prodigious technique sparingly and in unexpected places. His use of space and silence and his sense of form affected Miles Davis deeply, and Miles even instructed his pianist, Red Garland, to emulate Jamal's chordal voicings and Charleston-like left hand. Jamal later embraced Latin and other idioms for his trio.”

Dick Katz, Pianists of the 1940s and 1950s in Bill Kirchner, Ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz

“At this point Jamal is just starting his musical career. He has been recording for four years now and is only twenty-five years old. He is highly regarded by fellow musicians, like Dave Brubeck, and has the same agent as Louis Armstrong. He has played in many of America's finest nightclubs, from coast to coast, including our own Blue Note. Talking with Jamal on the eve of his recent departure for Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and then New York, one had the impression of talking to a large child, yet to someone far beyond simple innocence. At times he seems at once young and a century old. Soft-spoken, grave, calm, and ascetic who does not even smoke. He still has something of the elegant and precious about him that is not at all puritanical— he talks with a light humour, but keeps about him a quiet dignity and strength most impressive in this age which counts so heavily on the spectacular. His personality is reflected in his music, which in its clarity, calm and subtle joy, deserves to be called the chamber of contemporary jazz.”

- HERBERT C. LUST, liner notes to Ahmad Jamal Trio: Chamber Music of the New Jazz [Argo LP 602 recorded May 23, 1955, Chicago IL] 

“Jamal has released nearly 70 recordings, the last in 2019 at the age of 89, and has received many awards – ‘Living Jazz Legend’ by the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts (2007), inclusion in the Down Beat Readers Poll/Hall of Fame in 2011, and a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award (2017).”

- Mike Rose, UK National Jazz Archive

Born in 1930 and 91 years of age as of this posting, Ahmad Jamal was half that age when he gave this interview to Len Lyons in the mid-1970s.

A man of dignified dress and manner, Ahmad Jamal appears to be as meticulous and disciplined as his music. His piano playing gained him a select following of musicians in the early fifties in Chicago, but he was virtually unknown by the public until 1958, when he recorded At the Pershing (on Chess) with bassist Israel Crosby and drummer Vernel Fournier. Jamal's light touch and carefully planned trio arrangements showed the power that could be achieved with only a few well-placed notes. With his crisp, precise attack, he builds a solo dramatically, as can few other pianists using the same, spare ingredients.

Jamal's penchant for understatement influenced many musicians, among them Miles Davis. Jamal is best known for his treatments of "But Not for Me," "Surrey with the Fringe on Top," "Poinciana," and his own composition, "Ahmad's Rhumba." This last piece was recorded in 1956 in a big band version by Miles Davis and Gil Evans, who built their orchestrations from Jamal's piano score. Quite often Jamal's interpretation of a composition sounds definitive, for reasons he explains below. An example is the simple folk melody "Billy Boy," which Red Garland popularized in 1956, following Jamal's conception of the song faithfully.

In 1959 Jamal disbanded his trio in order to make a pilgrimage to the holy places of Islam. After returning to the States later that year, he opened the Alhambra in Chicago, a "dry" nightclub which folded the following year. Dissatisfied with the musician's erratic life-style, Jamal virtually retired from music, except for sporadic recording, from 1962 to 1965. He then regrouped with Jamil Nasser on bass and Frank Gant on drums, recording for Impulse from 1969 to 1973. 

In 1974 Jamal became Twentieth Century-Fox's only jazz artist, and his recorded playing changed noticeably. Unfortunately he often submerged the piano within string and horn sections or depersonalized his playing by using an electric piano, essentially undermining the selectiveness he had exhibited in his trio work. But Jamal did continue to perform in nightclubs, where his playing displayed more favorable divergences from his earlier style. In short, the "space" (though that is a misnomer, according to Jamal) that had been a constant feature of his style was suddenly filled in by harmonic changes. That stylistic evolution, as Jamal explains below, is the result of greater self-assurance.

The following mid-career interview by Len Lyons first appeared in Keyboard Magazine and can also be found in his The Great Jazz Pianists [1983].

What was the first music you played on the piano?

I was playing Lizst etudes in competition when I was eleven years old. So if I was doing that at eleven - and they were finger breakers  -then I started very, very young: at three. Then I played everything that appealed to me, whether it was "Christopher Columbus" [by Razaf and Berry, a swing tune popular in the thirties] or my own arias. I began studying at seven with the founder of the first black opera company in America, Mary Caldwell Dawson. I also studied with fledgling and aspiring musicians around Pittsburgh, and we never had that separation of classical and so-called jazz music. It was music, either good or bad. If we wanted to play Duke Ellington, we did. We considered Art Tatum a study, just like Bach or Beethoven. Look at some early Tatum books [transcriptions], which were fairly accurate - they demand the same concentration as the three B’s. I began to study everything I could get my hands on until I was seventeen. Unfortunately I left on a professional job right after high school, so my training ended there. I never got to college because I had to support a family. I began to pursue the music from a make-a-living-or-perish point of view. But I did have good teachers when I was very young.

What technical exercises have you found valid?

I accept the rule of thumb that many of the things we did -Hanon, Czerny, and so on - were central. However, I also think there's a lack of new material, new directions, and new approaches to the basics. Everyone's physical structure varies; no two hands are the same. A runner like Jesse Owens is different from the runners of today. If we go back to the time of Mozart or Bach, there's an even greater span. I'd like to have my own approach to technical exercises based on my own thinking and physical structure. I wish I had thought of this earlier, instead of pursuing the same timeworn exercises. I think the things I studied were and are valid to a degree; they're just not exhaustive.

Some of your left-hand chording is very much in the style of Erroll Garner. Was he an early influence on you?

Erroll happens to be a milestone in pianistics. There are several: Art Tatum, Nat Cole, Teddy Wilson. I'm talking about contemporary American music, the only art form that has had its development in America. Remember, the art form that's unique to this country is not the classics, but our so-called Jazz. So anyone that has never been influenced by Erroll has not been in our field. Erroll was an orchestra within himself. He always played that way. I'd say he's from the impressionistic school and of the rank of Ravel or Debussy. Any stylist has to have influence, and in his case, it's his two-handed approach to the piano.

That list omits Earl Hines, who was an early influence on a lot of pianists.

I wouldn't rank Earl in the same category as Tatum or Garner. Hines was associated with big bands, not trios, which require the piano as the focal point at all times. I'm not taking anything away from Earl Hines, who has been rediscovered of late, but I don't think we're talking about the same sort of pianist. Like Duke Ellington: I think we listen to Duke as a whole musician, not as a pianist. We listen to his composing, his structures, his harmonies, and his great leadership abilities. Not like we listened to Art Tatum or Teddy Wilson. Then you're talking about total piano. Now I don't like to say that I'm influenced by anyone but Ahmad Jamal, because my influence comes from within, not from without. But everyone has to start out by emulating. You have to be careful who you emulate to achieve your goal.

How did the Ahmad Jamal Trio get started?

We were originally the Four Strings, which was Ray Crawford on guitar, Tommy Sewell on bass, and Joe Kennedy, violin. Joe left, and for a while we stayed as the Three Strings. In the early trio days the things that Ray did on the frets of his guitar were wonderful. Ray was the first to bring in that percussive sound you hear [in guitarists] today. If you go back to our early records like "Billy Boy" and "Will You Still Be Mine?" you'll hear a man playing conga, only it isn't a conga, but Ray hitting the frets of his guitar. This was taken up later by Barney Kessel and Herb Ellis [when they played in the Oscar Peterson Trio].

Wasn't it unusual to have a trio without a drummer?

Nat "King" Cole's was the classic cohesive trio that everyone patterned themselves after at that time [around 1949]. Nat was a fabulous pianist, and he worked with just bass and guitar. Listen to those things he did with Lester Young and his own trio. They were masterpieces. Subtlety was the trademark of that instrumentation. It was quite a challenge, especially to play some of those big rooms without a drummer. I played with that group [the Ahmad Jamal Trio] from about 1951 to '57. In 1957 I got into drums with a remarkable drummer, Vernel Fournier. That group made some monstrous headlines with Vernel and Israel Crosby on bass.

What accounts for the sudden recognition that band received? Was it solely on account of that live recording ‘At the Pershing.'?

From my point of view, it wasn't sudden recognition. I had been recording for years, and in Chicago I became an artist-in-residence at the Embers during the mid-fifties. That's a great opportunity for any musician. Everybody came to see us: musicians, singers like Billie Holiday and Sammy Davis, Jr. We were publicized only by word of mouth, which is the best publicity you can get. Another thing that made all that happen was the album, one of the most perfect albums ever made in the history of American classical music, which is what I prefer to call it [jazz].

The record came about after [Chicago deejay] Sid McCoy and I decided it would be great to do a remote recording from the Pershing. We influenced Leonard Chess to carry it through. Sid, by the way, is now the voice on some very big commercials made in Los Angeles. It was the spontaneity, that wonderful element that [producer] Norman Granz used to capture on record, that made it successful. It hadn't been done in so long; we resurrected it. We picked right out of forty-three recorded tracks for the album, and that's being very selective. All the ingredients were there, even a wonderful engineer, Mal Chisholm. Everything was right. Our concepts were strong, too. Vernel Fournier grew up in that marvelous New Orleans environment, so he had marching bands, funeral processions, and all that great stuff in his background. He had the greatest brush work in the world. Israel Crosby was marvelous, too.

Speaking of your concepts. Miles Davis said in the mid-fifties that you were his inspiration. What do you make of that, and have you ever discussed that issue with Miles?

Not really. "New Rhumba" and "Medley" were transcribed note for note by Gil Evans for Miles's big band album Miles Plus Nineteen [also called Miles Ahead, on Columbia]. He just orchestrated things I had done early in my career. I was delighted. We needed that kind of support at the time Miles came along and paid us that compliment.

Why do you think your piano playing was so easily adapted to a big band score? 

Because I've been trained to think orchestrally. That's the difference between the sound we get in our trio and some other bands. Thankfully, my three pieces sometimes give the illusion that they are six or seven pieces. We've become one instrument. Having been influenced in my childhood by the bands of Duke Ellington, Earl Hines, and Count Basie, and having stayed up late at the Savoy in Pittsburgh to hear those big bands, and playing with big bands, well, that's what happens. I don't think in single lines. I think in big band concepts.

By contrast, one of the things you've been known for is space, openness, and lightness in your music. Isn't that the antithesis of the orchestral approach?

No, it's not openness; it's discipline. Some people call it space, true. But I call it discipline.

How does your orchestral thinking get transferred to the keyboard? Do you write out your voicing [chord positions], bass lines, and so on?

Yes, contrary to what people have said, most of the things we do are written. Of course, I don't write the improvisational sections, but the songs we do are structured on paper.

Can you give me an example of how you start out with some new material? What did you do with "But Not for Me" on ‘At the Pershing’?

Well, that was about twenty-four years ago, so I honestly don't remember whether I just wrote out the chord changes in symbols or if I did something more. You know, there were other things that we definitely did not write out. When players have been together for a long time, you can do things that sound written even if they're not. Ballads, especially. I don't write out ballads unless for some reason the band can't hear where I'm going with the chords. I prefer the players to feel what I'm doing on a ballad. Otherwise, whatever we do is carefully planned and thought out.

When you're structuring a piece of music for the piano, are there any general rules that you follow?

Writing music is very difficult. When you reach a certain level, like in journalism or whatever you do, the work begins to dictate itself, as you must know. The most difficult thing is getting started. I don't push it. That's one rule. I won't sit down and force myself to think of something. Another thing I do is [write] the piano score first. When the piano part is written down, I'll set down a bass line, which is usually parallel to mine.

You mean your bass notes coincide with the bassist's?

Oh, yes. There are exceptions to that. Sometimes I'll give the bass the bottom [root tone] and I'll play the subordinate tones. If I'm working with a quintet, I'll extract from the piano score what I want for the trumpet and sax, too. I use close harmonies, very close. I also use what I'd call sensible and meaningful directions in the music, based on my experience of what works. I like strong rhythmic ideas, too. I guess that sums it up.

There are a lot of pedal tones, and superimposed chords in your playing.

That's one of the things that identify the Jamal approach to composition. I like pedal point and was influenced by it very early in life, and I like the superimposition of tones because I'm from the impressionistic school. Some of it came from my classical sources - I leaned heavily toward Ravel. He's one of my favorite composers.

Sometimes there's a large separation in your music between what's going on in the treble register and bass register on the keyboard. Do you think that's what people mean by "space"? There are also times when you don't play at all.

Well, people have to call it something, but I still call it discipline. Philosophically I felt there are times when I should just lay out because I didn't think it was necessary for me to play. 

For economy of expression?

You could call it that. But I'll still call it discipline. There might not be the same kind of discipline in my playing these days because I'm trying to achieve different things. Now I'm looking for consistency of performance as opposed to achievement. The ultimate goal of any performer has to be to play at a high level night after night.

I'm glad you brought that up. Your playing seems much fuller and busier now. Though I hate to use the word, there's not as much of what everyone called space as there used to be. I was planning to ask you about that.

When I was young, I was trying to achieve something - recognition, not necessarily from other people, but from myself. I was trying to gain confidence. When you have more confidence, the ideas flow more easily. 

That's what the difference in my playing is now. It's more fluidity, fluency. You have a greater flow of ideas when you have more confidence. I'd say my playing is fuller now, broader, and more percussive.

Where do you see yourself in the jazz piano tradition?

I don't see myself in that way, certainly not following the tradition of any other jazz pianists. I came through three different eras. I was a boy when Ellington and Hines were at their peaks. I was a young man when the Gillespie-Charlie Parker era came in, and I was quite an adult with the advent of electronics. This is also true of Thad Jones, Miles Davis, Mel Lewis, Clark Terry, and Quincy Jones. These guys have spanned the eras, and they're still around. Right now I see myself as a product of these different eras. And being fortunate enough to have that broad background, I'm just following my own individual ideas and experiences.