© Copyright ® Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.
The editorial staff at JazzProfiles posted an earlier feature about pianist McCoy Tyner which you can locate by going here. It was based on “Tyner Talk: John Coltrane’s pianist discusses his musical background, beliefs and goals - as told to Stanley Dance.” Downbeat - October 24, 1963.
Here’s another early-in-his career piece from approximately 1975 drawn from Len Lyons’ The Great Jazz Pianists [1983].
As of this writing, McCoy who was born on December 11, 1938 is still performing and has to be considered one of the most influential pianists of his generation.
It’s fun to look back at the early years in the career of those destined to become what is today referred to as a “Jazz Master” or as an “iconic Jazz figure.” The sincerity, genuineness and naivete remind us that artistic life is always one that is in progress. One is either busy being born or busy dying.
Introduction
“When I visited the Tyners in rural Connecticut, they had recently moved from Newark, New Jersey. Woodlands bordered their spacious Colonial-style home and backyard. Aisha Tyner, McCoy's wife since their teens, was concerned about how their three boys, who were still in school, would adjust to the new setting. There were few black families in the district, and, as Aisha noted, "there's no sense of neighborhood. After school all the kids go home to their own little worlds." McCoy seemed content with their new house and his new studio, where he keeps his Steinway grand and modest record collection.
McCoy is an unpretentious and basically private person. He is most relaxed puffing on a pipe in quiet conversation, much of which typically revolves around his family. Backstage, before a performance, he is tense and preoccupied. At the keyboard his broad-shouldered, powerful frame hunches over, and he attacks the keyboard with the strength and determination of a pit bull. Tyner has a prominent religious streak in him, at least for the spirit of Islamic belief, if not for its institutionalized practice. Although he answers certain questions about his musical background in down-to-earth terms, he looks at other issues as spiritual or emotional.
McCoy discusses his career in detail in the following interview, but it is worth keeping its broad outlines in mind. After a brief tenure with the Benny Golson/Art Farmer Jazztet in the late fifties, Tyner played a historic role during the 1960's as part of the John Coltrane Quartet, which also included drummer Elvin Jones and bassist Jimmy Garrison. Tyner's use of modes (or scale-patterns) developed quickly under Coltrane's influence. But during the 1970's Tyner himself had a lasting impact on jazz piano when he began to use a more complex modal-harmonic system in conjunction with a fierce, distinctly percussive keyboard attack. Tyner has led his own quintet since 1973 and recorded one of the great solo piano achievements of the seventies on the album Echoes of a Friend, which comes from a period of his music that is examined in the interview ahead.
Part of the McCoy Tyner interview was taped immediately following the recording of the LP Trident in 1975 at the Fantasy Records studios in Berkeley, California. The conversation about his philosophical and religious outlook occurred later over dinner at a restaurant near McCoy's hotel. The segments of the interview that concern Tyner's composing and the role of the piano in larger ensembles come from the visit to his Connecticut home.
The Interview
What have you found helpful in developing technique?
Technique depends upon what you need to express at the time. If you're able to express yourself, that's all that's important. The need has to be there first, and then the acquisition of technique comes. You see, I consider music a form of self-expression. A lot of people can play an instrument, but whether they're using it to express themselves is a totally different thing. Personally I'm just not the technical, analytic type. I'm not like a lot of players who sit down and plan things out. Herbie Hancock might be an example. Of course, you have to do a certain amount of planning if you use synthesizers. I like to keep things on a spontaneous level because that's the type of performance that's most effective.
But didn't you work on technique at some point, say, at the Granoff School?
At Granoff, I just studied theory and harmony, which amounted to basic eighteenth-century composition. But when I was young, I practiced scales a lot and a few compositions, though not many exercises. Most of my technique comes from scales and actual playing experience. I did use Hanon, Czerny, and MacFarren, which are all fine. When you're acquiring the tools of your craft, you have to put in a lot of time. I'd spend hours practicing after school until I was politely asked to stop. I would advise young musicians to practice as much as possible and consistently, if not for long periods of time. Twenty minutes a day is better than four hours one day and ten minutes the next. I used to practice at the neighbor's because we didn't have a piano until a year after I started.
Were there any particular musicians you were listening to at the time?
Well, I didn't have a record collection. I couldn't afford it. I had a string quartet on a seventy-eight [rpm] record, and somebody gave me a Miles Davis record. I had some seventy-eights of Charlie Parker, and as soon as I found out who Bud Powell was, I bought some of his records. But these were things I picked up when I got older. I started off just playing pieces.
What motivated you toward improvising?
I had a little group I formed when I was about fifteen. There were seven pieces, whenever I could get them to practice. We used to have sessions in my house or in my mother's shop - she was a beautician. I started realizing that I had to give these guys notes to play, and most of it came from trying to play tunes I heard on records or the radio.
How did you meet John Coltrane and become part of his quartet?
I met him in the summer of 1955, when I was seventeen. It was at [trumpeter] Cal Massey's gig with Jimmy Garrison and [drummer Albert] Tootie Heath. Cal and John were close friends. Coltrane struck me as very quiet and serious. At that time he was at the inception of his style. He hadn't blossomed yet, but there was something about his sound and approach to improvising that was captivating. We kept in touch when John came back to town, especially during this period when Miles had let him go [during 1957], I was working as a shipping clerk in the daytime and as a musician at night. John and I played together, and he had improved quite a bit. I think he was working on some of the ideas that went into Giant Steps, Coltrane went back with Miles again, but we had sort of a verbal understanding that if he ever got his own group, I would play piano.
By the time John had his group going Art Farmer and Benny Golson had come through town [with the Jazztet], so I joined them. I think that I heard, while I was with the Jazztet in San Francisco, that John had a group. Steve Kuhn was playing piano. I don't think John wanted to ask me to leave the Jazztet because he was friendly with Benny Golson, but I believe Naima [John's wife] encouraged him. John left it up to me - he asked me what I wanted to do. It was a hard choice, even though I knew what I wanted to do. There were probably some bad feelings at first with the Jazztet, but I think they understood better later on. John's group was where I belonged.
Aside from the obvious musical influence, could you assess the importance of your years with the Coltrane quartet?
When I began with John, I accepted the responsibility of being an accompanist. I figured if I did the best I could in that role, I'd have to learn something. I wasn't interested in telling John what I wanted. I wanted to find out what he had to say. So I submitted to leadership, although the submission didn't take the form of his telling me what to do. I think the saying is true that you have to be a good follower before you can be a good leader. In any business you've got to have enough experience to stand up in front and say, "Okay, I'm ready to take charge." In a sense I was in the first stages of preparing for leadership.
How do you feel about your first recordings for Impulse as an individual artist during those years?
I tried to record some things that made me sound different from the I group, not realizing that the way I played with John was really the way I played. We just happened to be able to play together. Our personalities complement each other. We were that compatible.
What prompted you to leave the group in 1965?
Well, I felt if I was going to go any further musically, I would have to leave the group, and when John hired a second drummer [Rashied All], it became a physical necessity. I couldn't hear myself. John was understanding. In fact, I think he admired my courage.
What happened next?
There wasn't enough interest in me as an individual artist at Impulse, so I left them and began doing sessions for Blue Note, though only a few as leader. But I didn't work consistently enough to really be working on anything. I wondered whether it was meant for me to continue playing music. I was actually considering working during the day I had reached that point. It's funny, though; along with the pressure, it was also one of the happiest times of my life. I didn't travel much. I became very close to my family. It renewed my faith in the Creator. Despite the adversity, this was a fulfilling period because it was a test of my ability to survive, personally and as an artist. I had a chance to compromise, and I didn't do it.
You mean you were going to quit, or play pop, or what?
I was thinking about hacking, you know, driving a cab. The guy I went to see about the job couldn't believe it. He used to drive me to the airport when I was working with John's band. He just didn't believe I needed a job, and he never called me back. Also, I had offers to go on tours with Benny Goodman. A lot of guys I knew were going electric or into rock to become more commercial-I just couldn't.
Who was it who said, "It takes pressure to create diamonds"? Sometimes you can only learn through adversity. If a man's faith isn't tested, I don't think he'll learn anything. You can see it in people who have achieved some margin of success in life - meaning peace of mind and happiness, at least some of it. They have struggled to get it and sacrificed to learn. Faith in the Creator is what brought me through, and my wife. She's really a jewel. It takes a special kind of woman to live with a musician, especially a musician, or any artist really, who's not making it. We went through some pretty tough economic times. I had a log-cabin bank full of pennies -I still keep it.
It seems that about 1971, just before you left Blue Note for the Milestone label, your music acquired a new character and identity. What was the breakthrough?
It's very difficult to pinpoint a particular period when you take that big step. All you know is, you're there. Once you've dedicated yourself to something and you work at it, it takes shape and grows.
A specific difference is your use of the piano as a percussion instrument. Theoretically the piano is a percussion instrument, but there are few jazz pianists who explore that dimension. Do you think you play percussively?
Yes, I suppose I do. When you reach a certain point, you look for something else in the instrument to express your emotions. The piano became more of a rhythmic instrument to me, more like a drum, I guess. You see, after all these years, the piano and I have really become friends. I can truthfully say I have a friend there. It's like an arm or a leg, part of me. I can use it for almost total expression.
Would you say that your style of playing the piano has had an influence on others?
I'd like to believe that what I'm doing makes a difference. It takes that type of belief in your music to give you the firm belief that it's meaningful in terms of what's happening today. To me, influence is an indication that what you're doing is valid for the times. It's meaningful if people hear the music and get some beautiful feelings from it, or inner emotional release, or just learn something. Music can educate people, too, not in the ordinary sense of education. You take people on an excursion. The artist should be able to convey his adventures musically to the people. You can entertain, and you can also broaden people's perspectives through music. If your ideas mean something to you, you should be able to communicate them. Some of the simplest things are the most beautiful, and simplicity is coupled with complexity. That's the way life is, simple and complex at the same time.
How do you view your own music historically speaking? Is it derived from bebop, from modal music, or do you think of it as black American music?
My music is an extension of bebop, but all these other things are interconnected. You really have to be aware of the interrelationships and of the roots of the music in order for it to have its identity. Historically, though, there are different ways to look at this. The music had its roots in the black community. Music played a very important part in self-expression within the black community. The form of the music is very expressive of how black people felt, especially with bebop because it was such a major change in that particular idiom. I'd say the selection of music now is very commercial, while back then it seems people really liked good music. But the music has grown, and it's become an individual experience, which is another level from just historical categories. You might hear Indian music in it, or Stravinsky - I happen to like Stravinsky's orchestration. The thing is that the roots of the music must be felt for it to be truly what it is. If you look at the top of a tree, it can be blowing in many different directions, but once it's broken off from its roots, it's dead.
What's the connection for you between religion and music, or religion and your I music?
Jazz started as religious music. Music, generally, started out as a form of praise to the Creator. That was the original purpose of it. In fact, the church was about the only place the [early] black Americans would make music, which was an indication of the seriousness of the music and how it was taken by our people. Religion is not in the church or mosque or synagogue, at least in my opinion; it's in the person. Religions should make you conscious of what you are in relationship to the Creator.
Why do you say "Creator" instead of God?
I believe that the idea of man was conceived out of love. I like the word "Creator" for that reason, because instead of something sitting in judgment, it denotes a deity that loves His creation. I've been with this since I was a teenager, and I feel I really understand the function of religion in life. It's just a word unless you've lived through enough to know what it means. In a sense it has to be tested, like a marriage or faith, so you know whether it's served its purpose so far as your life is concerned.
Do you consider your music religious music in some sense?
I hope it's on that level, though it can be other things at the same time.
What about composing? Are you doing much of it now?
I'm approaching some new concepts in my writing, but I think the best is yet to come as far as composition is concerned. I'm hearing more motion, more mode changes in my solos, so I want to compose in that framework. What I really want to do is write things that complement my mood when I'm soloing.
Can you describe the role composition has played in the history of your musical endeavors?
My interest in it goes pretty far back-to when I was a teenager with a seven-piece band. We were just a group of guys going to school together. I liked that band sound, and I tried to pull everything together into a tighter sound, which was the most I could do at the time. We went so far as to tape a few things.
It got more serious when I was with John [Coltrane]. He tried to get me to do some writing and orchestrating for larger groups around the quartet setting. But I was so engrossed with what we were doing in the small band I didn't pursue it heavily. The only thing from the early sixties was "Greensleeves" from the Africa Brass album, where we used my orchestration involving French horns and a trumpet. I guess I did feel a lot of voices in my music, and my own [pianistic] style reflects it. I remember John saying that he heard it in my approach to comping [accompaniment]. Incidentally, the tune "Africa" was written from my voicings by Eric Dolphy. He asked me to show him what I was doing so he could get the same sound I was getting from the piano.
Even though the seeds of orchestration and composing were planted many years ago, I feel they've just begun to take root. It's like another horizon for me. It's been a challenging one, too, and I think it's always a good idea to have a new venture.
Song for the New World actually preceded Fly with the Wind as an album of significant writing for you. Did you feel a lot of progress had been made between the two of them?
I look at it this way: Piano is my instrument, but in writing I'm beginning to use the orchestra as another instrument. You have to learn a lot by trial and error,
So you're taking up a new instrument?
Exactly. And it's an especially exciting one to me because I always look forward to hearing how things sound after I write them. At this point I really can't tell until the music is played. So in answer to your question [about my progress] I don't feel Fly with the Wind is the ultimate in terms of depth. I was a little bit cautious when I wrote it. It was successful for what it was, but it's not the epitome of what I could do with strings. I'm looking ahead. I'd rather look ahead to see what my potential is than look back to see whether I've fulfilled it already. It's important to look at your music and feel you can do better.
While Fly with the Wind was being recorded, I remember you telling me you had consulted a book on orchestrating for strings.
Yes, and it was valuable in that I had a reference for the instrument's capability - its capability in normal circumstances, taking into consideration who was playing it. If you don't write for strings all the time, it's very helpful to have that kind of information available. I was using Walter Piston's book [Harmony], but Forsythe has one which also seems to be very good [Orchestration].
Hadn't you studied orchestration at Granoff?
No, I never did. Looking back on my life in music, I can see that things happen in stages, by development. I like that. I'd rather see how I've grown in the past ten years than feel I've reached some sort of pinnacle. In other words, I hope I haven't climbed the highest mountain. Fly with the Wind let me know that what I hear can be translated into forms other than piano and brass, that I can use the orchestra, that I can be less conservative when I write. Incidentally, I wasn't afraid of what the record was going to sound like, but I think I was surprised. I didn't realize how powerful strings could be when they're used properly. Many people assume that strings have to be used very commercially, as a sweetening track, but that's not so.
Did you compose "Fly with the Wind" at a table or at the piano?
I always use the piano when I write because it helps me to hear the weight of certain tones in developing chords. You can tell more easily which colors in the chord stand out and then use the elements you find most important. Personally I like to use the piano not for the security of it, but because I can relate so easily to the sound of the instrument.
After hearing it on the piano, were you surprised at all by how the orchestration sounded played by other instruments?
Yes, but pleasantly. The weight seemed so balanced. There's a real science of balance. Notes that are strong on one instrument in a register have to be checked by notes on a different instrument. You have to be aware of the weights of tones. One of the surprises was that the simpler things sounded stronger than the more sophisticated chords. It's a very mystifying aspect of writing. Right now I'm thinking of a particular chord on the title tune, Fly with the Wind; it comes in just before the main theme during the introduction.
You once mentioned that Stravinsky impressed you very strongly. Do you think his work has influenced your sense of orchestration?
Stravinsky and Debussy are two of my favorite composers. Stravinsky was definitely inspirational. I should also include Duke [Ellington] in there because he was so heavy into the harmonic concept of the orchestra. Producing a sound with an orchestra is a unique talent. Just like I listen to Art Tatum to get inspiration at the piano, it's nice to be able to be inspired by composers. It's not that I want to copy them, but it's a stimulating thing. I think it's good to listen, but I don't think it should be too deliberate. Then you'll be inclined to copy. The inspiration is good, but it should be left at that level so that your own creative emotions can flow. You don't want another creative individual to overshadow you. That's not the purpose of listening. To me, its purpose is to be inspired, not stifled.
“Fly with the Wind" had a captivating theme to me. It gave me the same feeling as Gershwin's "American in Paris" in terms of (he lightness of the strings. Is this a valid impression from your point of view?
Well, I know what you mean, because I was in a happy mood at the time.
At times in my career I have felt heavy and gone into heavy things harmonically. But there are times when I feel light, and I think I should express that side of me musically, as well as the very serious side.
What can you tell me about the album for voices that you're about to record?
I'm using four trumpets, five saxes, trombones, and an acoustic guitar [played by Earl Klugh], and then the voices. Bill Fischer, who did Fly with the Wind, will conduct and work with the voices. He's a very flexible musician, which is important to me because I want to work with different contexts. Actually that's why I'm writing. I don't write music because I want to be popular. I write because I want to experiment with different settings.
Do you think there is also a presumption that voices-like strings - are a sweetener?
Yes, I suppose so, but I don't think my material will reflect that.
How can you expand the seriousness with which voices are used as an additional color?
Well, the way I'm using them they will be like instruments. I don't anticipate any words being used.
Why voices?
It seemed like the next step for me. Orrin [Keepnews, his producer on Milestone] and I work very well together. He often suggests things for me, which we then discuss. For example, the last trio album which used different rhythm sections [Supertrios] was his idea. It was a way of making that album different from Trident. After we expanded the number of players involved, we thought about the next thing we could do with a larger size group. He suggested voices, and I had been considering it myself, so that's how it came up.
Did you listen to any vocal music for inspiration or to stimulate your ideas?
I did pick up a couple of religious pieces written quite a long time ago. One was a record of church chants sung in Greek by a choir of priests. It was just to get the sound of the voices in my ear, although what I'm writing has nothing to do with that music. Yet I am going to do some a capella things, some with piano accompaniment, some voices with the larger group. Actually it will be a mixture of formats.
We'll probably use about twelve singers, but there will be some overdubbing of voices, too, for a bigger sound. We're overdubbing for technical reasons; it's not economical. The voice is so delicate that in a studio you have to be careful. A chorus has to be working together a very long time before it can succeed in a studio. As an alternative to bringing thirty singers into the studio - they wouldn't be able to hear each other in a situation like that - we felt that we'd get better tone quality and definition by overdubbing.
How do you feel about performing your orchestral compositions live, as you did with "Fly with the Wind?”
I played it once with a professional orchestra which was right in the middle of an internal dispute, and I think they had had some bad experiences collaborating with jazz groups, too. We really walked into the middle of something there, and I wasn't very happy with the result. But the Oakland Youth Symphony performance and the performance at Newport this summer were both very exciting. I'd want to do a live performance with voices, too, but right now I have to concentrate on recording the music.
Can you foresee functioning strictly as a composer, writing an album of music on which you wouldn't perform?
Well, I'd rather be involved with what's going on. I don't think I could orchestrate for a living because I enjoy performing too much. It's an important part of my makeup as an individual. Performing is a wonderful release of my emotions. Performing is like emptying the cup in order to fill it again. That's the joy of it.
Considering Chick [Corea], Herbie [Hancock], Keith Jarrett, and a few others, it seems that composition is becoming a more important part of a player's repertoire. Do you see that as a trend, too?
Yes, composition is taking a larger role, which is a good sign for the
music. It means that we're hearing other forms. When changes take place in
the music, it often happens compositionally. Guys start to write differently,
and pretty soon you'll hear a concept change. Of course, it depends on the
artist. John created a change through his playing. His writing complemented
his style. In a way I think that's true in my own case. I write my own music
best, as a complement to my style as a player.
Some players seem to have a very good understanding of form. Even though Chick and Herbie are involved in the electronic thing very heavily, I have to admit that they are very fine writers. In Herbie's case, I'm thinking of his more interesting compositions, not the commercial ventures. I guess I'm still growing as a writer. I've yet to put down all the things I hear. I need to spend more time at the piano writing.
Do you have a writing schedule?
No, it's whenever I can fit it in. The same is true of practicing. I haven't had a practice routine since I was a teenager.
When you speak about "form" in music, are you distinguishing it from the content of the piece?
The advantage of writing your own music is that you can create a form that you enjoy playing on. You know, I sometimes feel that I have to learn my
own music - that is, the ideas that are in it. A song is like a good book. It takes a while to get familiar with it. Of course, you can always play it, but after you've played it for a while, it becomes more revealing. It becomes like a good friend. You can get more deeply into the material. Then the form begins to flex a little bit more. Look at the wall over there. At first it looks like one solid mass, but you can get down to looking at the particles on a microscopic level, the atomic structure, and so on. A piece of musk can look like one entity, too, but then you learn it better and you can break it down into an abundance of things that are happening.
Remember "My Favorite Things," which I played with John? I didn't like the song at first. But after we played it for a while, the song began to flex and become part of the group. It's a very good thing at times to take a standard and shape it to your own needs as a player. Of course, the whole process is easier with your own music, your own compositions, because you are writing them to complement your style. And I don't mean the writing of them is easy, but only that it's more integrated with your playing.
Is there anything else you'd like to add on the subject of your writing?
Well, I haven't exhausted all the things I hear. Frankly I hope I never do.
It was surprising to hear you using a harpsichord on Trident [on Milestone], How did that happen?
I was trying to find a keyboard instrument that would be different from the piano and yet have a good sound. The first time I saw one was in Europe with John. I plunked away at it, and the sound stuck in my mind. The action is different. You have to lay on the key. If you jump off it, the tone will disappear. The harpsichord I used on Trident had two keyboards on it, and there were certain gadgets you could push to get both keyboards playing in unison, as well as a staccato button. I didn't use any of these devices on the recording.
What kind of piano do you prefer?
Generally the Steinways. I have one myself. I especially like the European Steinways. The studio at Fantasy Records [in Berkeley] has a Yamaha, though, which is very fine. Echoes of a Friend [a solo album on Milestone] was recorded on a Steinway in Japan. When I go to Japan, I get Steinways. They gave me one Yamaha, and they apologized.
While we're on the subject of keyboards, what's your feeling about electric pianos?
To me, electronic instruments have more of an artificial sound. Emotionally I couldn't function on them. It's too easy, physically, to play, and it weakens you. You can push a button and get a gigantic sound. I think it interferes with some of the human vibrations.
What kind of music do you listen to now?
I like Stravinsky, especially the way he orchestrates- The Rite of Spring and Petrushka particularly. I also listen to music from different parts of the world, from Japan, Turkey, North Africa, Central Africa. At a certain stage you have :o listen to good music, no matter where it comes from. But I enjoy jazz more than other forms.
Do you listen to jazz?
Very little nowadays, because there's so much electronic stuff. I'll go back and listen to Art Tatum's collection, that Pablo series [Tatum Solo Masterpieces], or I'll listen to Leadbelly, Sarah Vaughan, and Billy Eckstine. I like a lot of different things.
Are you practicing anything new on the piano?
Well, I've reached the point where I want to do some practicing. In the group with John, we were always able to give each other inspiration, but it's hard to find a setting like that. Now I have to do it all by myself. Practicing won't solve that problem, but I do want to do more playing on the piano. I know everything doesn't lie in the practicing, which is just limbering the muscles and so on. Music doesn't lie in that. It helps, though. John even practiced between sets in the back room. He worked hard, like a person who didn't have any talent. As great as he was, he practiced constantly. So who am I not to?
Have you considered teaching? Would you do that one day?
A friend of mine asked me to lecture to his class at the University of Santa Barbara. I couldn't. About what? I don't look at music like that. Music is a form of self-expression to me. Music is a part of nature — it's sound. I don't stop to analyze. I play from sound, from what I hear in my head and from what I feel.
Why do you think jazz has such a hard time getting played, distributed, and supported in America?
Because there's a lot of junk-manufactured music that's not personal - that has been thrust upon people. Art is placed on a much higher level in other countries, where symphony orchestras and jazz are supported by the government. It's disappointing. But I don't think the American public has poor taste. They've just been misled.”
