Alan Barnes talks to Peter King about his 40 year career, influences, identity
and his new album release The one thing guaranteed to bring out the humbler side of even the most self-assured saxophonist is to place him on the stand next to Peter King. The technical mastery, the flow of ideas, the twists and turns of the improvisation as the end of one phrase unexpectedly becomes the beginning of another, the passion and the searing sound are all overwhelming. I had only read in novels of "jaws dropping" until I witnessed the reaction of one visiting American musician, perhaps expecting an easy time of it, listening to Peter unleashing his first solo of the night. He has been improvising at that level for forty years since he played the opening of the first Ronnie Scott's Club in 1959 at the age of 18, but in his latest CDs on Miles Music he seems to have moved onto a higher and even more individual plane. I recently spent an afternoon with Peter finding out his views on music, his approach to the saxophone and some details of the life that has led up to these CDs. Originally bent on a career in aerodynamics, a field in which he is still an authority, his life changed direction when he took up the clarinet and began playing with a local Dixieland band. He enjoyed learning the role of that instrument in the collective front line and it still interests him. "Recently I played a festival and they had a marching band, It sounded so good I asked if I could sit in for a couple of numbers." When talking of his soprano playing, he again refers back to earlier styles: "I want to get that power and sound of Sidney Bechet but without the vibrato." Changing to alto saxophone, Peter fell totally under the influence of Charlie Parker and immersed himself in the rhythmic and harmonic intricacies of be-bop, which culminated in the incredible experience of being invited to play by Bud Powell when visiting the Blue Note in Paris at the age of 21. Bud was in bad shape at this time due to heavy medication for paranoid schizophrenia, but Peter remembers "a beautiful man with an aura of unspeakable pain and sadness". The Parker influence became almost too engulfing and like so many American alto saxophonists of the period (most notably Sonny Stitt), Peter changed to the tenor saxophone in an attempt to find his own individualism. "I went through periods of tenor and periods of alto - I never really found I could play them both - it had to be one or the other." In the John Dankworth orchestra of 1961 he began taking some of his solos on tenor, which displeased one of the tenorists so much that Peter moved on to lead his own quartet at Annie Ross's club Annie's Room, which he remembers for the opportunities it gave him to play with marvellous singers,including Anita O'Day and Tony Bennett. The tenor/alto situation continued through the '60s with periods with Tubby Hayes on both horns and even into the '70s when he joined Maynard Ferguson's band, firstly on tenor and the alto. Eventually he felt that as he "had a lot of other influences" apart from Bird, he could return full-time to his original saxophone. We talked of other altoists of this time: "Lee Konitz was a real original - a completely different way of playing from Bird, and then of course Cannonball, who came from much more blues roots and adapted to the be-bop thing. He had his own way of doing it - again, completely unique". He still has a legacy from playing the larger horn. "I tend to approach the instrument now as if it were a tenor, using a subtone embouchure on the lower register and more of an O shape with the mouth - a looser embouchure than most altoists." A musician in the Dankworth band suggested pretending to sing as he played - pitching the note in his throat. He remembers that suddenly the horn was so much more in tune on unison passages. "If you bite as you play you get that harsh sound. Harder reeds give you a rounder sound." Like most accomplished players he advocates getting a mouthpiece which is compatible and just working round the problems, pointing out that the beautiful Johnny Hodges "liquid" sound was produced on a horrendous Berg Larsen with a high tone chamber and the Harry Carney "huge" sound came from an ancient Woodwind of New York mouthpiece. He suggested that many great jazz players achieved a personal tone by not playing quite correctly. As he puts it: "Almost falling into being wrong but just being able to control it. Coltrane had a fragile sound - it's not smooth - almost as if he were struggling against his mouthpiece. And Stan Getz, from a fairly ordinary set-up got that almost piercing upper register." Miles Davis had an "is he going to make it?" tension about what he played and it is these imperfections which make the human sound. Soloists' limitations become as important as their talents. That's what involves you with these people - they inhabit a nether land between right and wrong." Sometimes the difference between, say, Ben Webster and a wedding tenor player is only slight but the effect immeasurable. "It's to do with where the limitations of taste are - genuine emotion without being drawn into schmaltz." Charlie Parker had the ability to express all his feelings, from anger to great tenderness. Peter is trying to "say something" when he plays and emphasises that jazz is not about total improvisation as is commonly thought. Bud Powell continued to play his recorded solo on "Embraceable You" subsequently and Bird repeated many of the same licks but strung them together in different ways. "If it's your own thing, there is no reason why you shouldn't play it again." he emphasizes that tunes are not just sequences. "When I play "Love For Sale" it means something to me - it's a bitter-sweet lyric with a sad and powerful story. "My Heart Belongs To Daddy" sound humorous but it is in fact a very deep lyric." Peter King's version of "For All We Know" was inspired by Billie Holiday's last session where even with a failing voice she was able to do things of intense emotional power. She had not long to live and the words "We may never meet again" took on an ominous meaning. He feels he is trying to play less these days. "People think of Bird as always playing fast but he didn't - he may do for four bars but what makes it mind-blowing is the context of everything else around it. |
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The
1970s were barren years for Peter King. "I couldn't get much joy out of
anything", he says. Personal problems, audiences' lack of interest, being
buried in theatre jobs and feeling that he couldn't find anything new to
play, all contributed to a disillusionment with jazz which led him to start
studying classical music, especially Bartok. Jazz-rock had become dominant;
real jazz gigs were few and he feels he lost his direction. "Like a lot
of people in the '70s I became messed up and was in a bad way." One lost
opportunity at this time was an offer to join Ray Charles's band on a permanent
basis. "Some good things like this, and Maynard's band, were happening but
I wasn't able to make the most of them. The overall impression was one of
not going anywhere." This loss of confidence was reversed when he was asked to perform in Brittany on the recommendation of Bobby Wellins. "It came as a revelation - great rhythm section and we made an album "Hi-Fly" for Tony Williams's Spotlite label and I rediscovered the joy of playing." He began to play on the continent regularly and abandoned his ideas of being a session musician which had dominated him for a while. "I realised I'd been wasting my time - I didn't think I was a proper musician because I couldn't play the flute. Most of my sessions were overdubbed solos on pop things." Encouraged by Ronnie Ross to pursue his own ideas of mouthpieces and sound, he began to work regularly. "I have considered myself as a professional jazz musician since then - you have to make the decision that if you are going to do it then you are going to do it for real and you've got to be the best at it." He has followed the likes of Phil Woods into clubs and knows that he is competing with the best in the world. "You have to compare yourself with the best there is - whether you reach it is another matter." Most importantly he is convinced that it is not just playing well - one has to develop a "presence". Being a leader has always been against his nature but he has learnt how to do it. "You have to believe in yourself and stand up and be the front man. If you are going to get anywhere they have to be your records. It's no good people saying "Great alto player on that Red Rodney CD but I can't remember his name". I work on things like talking to an audience, speaking slowly and in a lower tone. I get up there now and am just proud that I have a great band." Throughout the 1980s Peter King had other great bands with players such as pianist John Horler, trumpeter Henry Lowther and drummer Spike Wells. His recordings included "East 34th street" and "The Peter King Quintet", both on Spotlite records. recognition with a younger audience had come in collaborations with Ben Watt of "Everything But The Girl", resulting in "Crusade", an album for W.E.A. and with the Charlie Watts Quintet. He has toured the world with the latter and acted as M.D., composer and manager on all their albums including a Tribute to Charlie Parker". He also lays great emphasis on his friendship with Julian Josef, who has invited him to perform both live and on record, and whom he feels has been influential in keeping him abreast of the younger generation of British jazz musicians. Discovering the computer as an aid to composition has resulted in "Janus" for his quartet and string quartet. "I didn't want my band to hold back so I separated them out as much as possible - but I use the same motifs to connect everything together. The effect, when I heard it at the Purcell Room, was stunning. The string writing influenced by his analysis of the Bartok quartets. The Lyric Quartet was the ideal choice and the string playing was as involved and intense as the jazz playing. Peter's work with Miles Music marks a high point in his recording career. John Miles's input is important and has directed the choice of music to include classical themes given new treatments and to shape the performances into an album rather than just a sequence of tunes. "Tamburello" features a fifteen minute suite to Ayrton Senna which includes sounds of Formula One cars - Brazilian drum rhythms and a beautiful "Dido's Lament" by Purcell. I have been fortunate enough to have a preview of the new album, to be released soon. Included in this music was a Holst hymn, a haunting prelude to Tristan and Isolde with a blowing sequence derived from the theme, two Hungarian folk tunes, one of which alternates 5/4 and 4/4 bars and an incredible tribute to Ornette Colman featuring Gerard Presencer, in which the line between composing and improvising is impossible to discern. Soprano has been added to his armoury, for tunes which he feels don't fit the range or sound of the alto. The classical pieces are well chosen - the Bartok melodies are pentatonic and are not that different from the kind to tunes Coltrane would have used and the approach is very similar. They lend themselves to rich harmonisations. "Bartok uses chords very similar to the ones McCoy Tyner would use", he points out. The harmonic resolutions in the Wagner prelude sound very contemporary. The trio of Steve Melling, Jeremy Brown and Steven Keogh are augmented by the keyboards of Steve Hamilton in an intriguing mix. "There has been a lot of rubbish involved in adapting classical pieces", he emphasises. This has been avoided in these adaptations as the material has been completely rethought. For the future, Peter has a performance of his Hungarian Suite scheduled for the London Festival, live dates with his own band, plans to record with Elvin Jones and is working on a totally "straight" piano concerto. Listening to any of his albums is a rewarding experience - especially the Miles Music ones. "This is the first time I've been involved in making albums that have a life of their own and mean something. It's like being taken on a journey where tracks follow tracks for a reason and everything has its place in the whole. Copyright © Alan Barnes, used with permission Photo by Michael Pearson
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