Straight Life - Art Pepper [208]
When I was a kid I played clarinet, and my first influence was Artie Shaw. I heard him play on records and on the radio, and I thought he played beautifully, with a wonderful sound and a great technique. Then I saw a picture of him. He was going with or married to a movie star. She was beautiful. He seemed very glamorous to me and I thought, "Wow!" and I saw an opening for me at nine, ten years old. I thought, "Wow, there it is!" And I never doubted for a second that I could be as great as Artie Shaw.
I kept buying records. I remember I got "Annie Laurie" by Jimmy Lunceford's band; it was so swinging. In that band at the time was Joe Thomas, the tenor player. He had a full sound; he kind of moaned through his horn; he growled; he moved me. Playing alto was Willie Smith, and I liked the way he led the section. That saxophone section was the best I've every heard, even up to now. Later on I had occasion to hear the band in person at the Trianon ballroom: they were more devastating than they were on record. And I was standing in front of the band, listening to them, when all of a sudden this beautiful black chick came up. Dorothy Dandridge. She had furs on, and she stood there listening to the band and looking at Joe Thomas, and after they finished their set everybody fell all over her, and she went to Joe Thomas and started rapping with him. It was so glamorous. I loved not only the music, I loved the whole idea.
I liked a lot of people. I loved Johnny Hodges in Duke Ellington's band, the way he played ballads, and in that band was Ben Webster, who had a rich, full tone like Joe Thomas's but more subtle. Joe Thomas was a shouter; Ben Webster was more soulful. Then I heard Louis Jordan on alto: he knocked me out. I liked Benny Goodman. I liked Charlie Barnet, and then all the dixieland people-Wingy Manone and, oh, that guy that played cornet, "Livery Stable Blues," what was his name? I liked Roy Eldridge and, naturally, when I got with Benny Carter, I liked him, but I never attempted to play like any of these people. Never. I'd see little books-Solos by So-and-so, taken off the records-and every now and then I'd buy one and try it, but it just wasn't me, and it had no meaning to me at all, playing what was written. All these people influenced me, subconsciously, but I didn't feel like any of them and I didn't play like any of them. I'd go to sessions and hear other people playing and think, "Oh, that guy sounds like Willie Smith; that guy sounds like Johnny Hodges." And I used to think, "Well, maybe I don't play good. Maybe I'm on the wrong track." Just before I was drafted I heard Lester Young-he was with Basie's band-and, boy, I said, "That's the one!" But he played tenor and I played alto. I dug the things he did, but I didn't want to ape him. I ran into Zoot Sims; he knew all of Prez's solos and could sound just like him, and he'd hold the horn up at a fortyfive-degree angle, just like Prez did. I thought, "Why don't I sound like anybody else? What's wrong with me?" Finally, I got with Stan Kenton's band, and then people started telling me, "Man, you sure sound great!" I'd ask, "What do you mean?" I'd want to know why. They'd say, "Man, I can tell it's you." And I thought, "Well, that's what it is. I wasn't wrong