Drummer Chad Taylor had to wake up before dawn on consecutive days and travel twice across the continental United States to play this concert with Fred Anderson. The 40 year old percussionist took a night off from his tour with the rock band Iron & Wine to make this gig. I imagine the reason had little to do with the commitment he had made to the Solos & Duos Series and nothing to do with the artist fee (which was largely eaten up by the airplane), and everything to do with Fred Anderson.
The 78 year old tenor saxophonist is a revered figure in the music. Taylor is one of a number of musicians who have profited from the informal tutelage of this icon of the Chicago creative music scene. An original member of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM), and a diehard Midwesterner, Anderson’s principal gift to the windy city has been his proprietorship of The Velvet Lounge, a south side drinking establishment which has nurtured generations of improvising musicians, including Chad Taylor.
This concert had a tight schedule and a large carbon footprint. Anderson and his friend and helper, Andy Pierce, flew from Chicago the day of the concert (their 1:30 Bradley arrival delayed over two hours). Taylor touched down at 4:30. We raced back to campus (in two cars, mine and Steve Hart’s) with time for hotel check in, sound check and little else.
Fred had surgery within the last nine months and Chad must have been worn from his west coast touring, but their UMass concert bristled with energy. Through two ample sets of music, they ripped 185 listeners out of their everyday lives to a place of awe and beauty. Fred assumed his firmly rooted, trade-marked lean, and Chad was in closed eyed revelry, as they launched into chartless improvising of the highest order. When I asked Fred later about the source of all his energy, he said, “I’m just trying to stay in the game.”
Chad confided in Michael Ehlers afterwards that he thought by the end, he “couldn’t hang with Fred.” The implication, in my mind, was that weeks of rigid “rock” drumming had made his ideas soft. (Iron & Wine, Sam Beam’s band, is booked through 2008; Chad was doubtful he’d last that long.) The proposition that Chad couldn’t hang with anyone was laughable to me. I had been blown away by his playing. Using sticks, mallets, brushes and his hands, Taylor laid it down all night. At one point I leaned to Hank Berry (another beautiful job with sound reinforcement) and thought, “This is like hearing Elvin and Blakey.” His deep African rhythms also recalled Ed Blackwell. (And drum kit is just the beginning. Chad is also a masterful vibes and marimba player, and is advancing the music made on African thumb piano. Maybe next time.)
I had met Fred in 1999 when he performed at a Magic Triangle concert with Kidd Jordan, William Parker and Hamid Drake (caught on the acclaimed Eremite recording, “Two Days in April”). Health problems and the intervening years had removed some of his stockiness, but his spirit and attitude were strong. Fred impresses me as a worker. Since the early 1980s he’s operated a nightclub in Chicago, and earlier in life, did lots of jobs outside of music. He can fix things, provide for his family, and play the tenor saxophone. Before the old Velvet would open for its regular day time clientele, Fred would put in 2-3 hours of practice on the only horn he plays, then do all the things a small businessman does. Above all, he created a venue where newcomers and masters alike would take the stage without pretension and try to say something on their chosen instrument.
While we chatted about different musicians, he seemed proud to tell me which of them had played his club. (The outpouring of love and support for Fred, and the institution he’s created, made the recent relocation of the Velvet possible.) Speaking of love and support, Fred is lucky to have Andy Pierce in his corner. A Chicago city employee (housing and building inspections), Andy is a true friend of the music. He handled all the details and was a big help to Fred.
So I’m driving Fred and Andy along some very small road in Montague on the way to dinner after the show. I can tell these two city slickers have noticed that we are in rural America. Just as Fred was telling me why my side car windows keep fogging up, a large deer leaps in front of the car (maybe a foot from my headlight) and bounds into the woods. The car is stopped and we all take a deep breath before Andy and I start chatting excitedly about our near miss. Fred is quiet in the front seat. When we finally ask if he’s alright, Fred chuckles and gives us a simple “yeah, man.”
Written by Glenn Siegel