Thomas Chapin: Music as an Olympic Eventby Mike Zwerin – Perugia, Italy – August 8, 1996

Thomas Chapin describes himself as “flying under the radar.”

He’s never won a major poll, and he’s not on “young lion” lists. At the age of 39, as today’s definition goes, he’s not even young. Encyclopedias do not yet mention him. Major promoters are only now beginning to solicit him. He is, however, an example of the depth of quality in the world of jazz – and of how quality can still prevail.

Audiences knew they were on to something good for 10 straight nights in the Club Il Pozzo during the Umbria Jazz Festival. (Giving such a deserving under-radar name such a break earns this festival points.) The audience was not numerous, but to quote Fats Waller, the joint was jumping. (The first set began at midnight.) You did not have to have perfect pitch to jump up and down and give the Thomas Chapin trio a standing ovation.

The trio – Chapin, Mario Pavone, bass; Michael Sarin, percussion – performs “mostly original compositions that mix rock style ostinatos, hard bop, rhythm and blues and free jazz.” Not “free” in the in-your-face sense, though that, too. Chapin’s post-Ornette Coleman alto saxophone is “out” while in. Inbounds out of bounds, if that makes sense. When in mainstream mode, he resembles his teacher Jackie McLean.

Some years ago, Chapin made a decision to make the kind of music worth living for. A tough balancing act between métier and spirituality, this is notably harder than merely making a living making music. A bandstand for him is like a stage for an actor.

People have an idea that a stage is where things are made up, while he figures it’s more real than so-called real life. Super reality. It’s an altar, a sacred place. He gets this beatific look on his face after a solo.

Music is his fate rather than a choice. He doesn’t want to play, he must play. He plays therefore he is. This at least partially explains all the standing ovations in the Club Il Pozzo.

They were not a collection of fans; they were just normal people touched by the whimsical, unpompous generosity. He and his fellow musicians make each other laugh. A constant humorous patter, a certain impishness, is always evident. They have been together for seven years and so the jokes can be inside.

Critics have commented that they are too frivolous, that music should be taken more seriously. But Chapin considers frivolity a serious matter. The band will hit a series of accents, out of time, without signals. A sort of game, trying to throw each other off. It’s funny. They’ve been together so long and are by now so together that they cannot make a mistake no matter how hard they try.

After studying at the Hartt College of Music in Connecticut, and Rutgers University in New Jersey, Chapin moved to New York where Lionel Hampton hired him to play lead alto and be his musical director. Bizarre, Chapin had never thought of himself as any sort of a director. He held the job for six years. Then he followed Eric Dolphy, Charles Lloyd and Arnie Lawrence in the prestigious reed chair of Chico Hamilton’s esteemed quintet before forming his own trio.

He soon realized that the trio’s textures and structures were so delicate that the full attention of the entire audience was required to make them work. As Yogi Berra might have put it: “You’re not really listening unless you’re really listening.” (Chapin takes full responsibility for communication; if you don’t get it it’s his fault not yours.)

But they were playing in bars, audiences made bar noise. He finally decided that John Cage had resolved the problem years ago – bar noise was just a sort of Cagian attention. Anyway, lighten up, man. It’s better than a day gig.

This interview was turning into a colloquy. Questions like “who is your biggest influence?” (Rahsaan Roland Kirk) and “when is your next record coming out?” (“Haywire,” the Thomas Chapin Trio plus strings, will be released in September on Knitting Factory Records*) seemed inappropriate.

But it’s tough to deal with stuff like this without getting corny or boring. Where does he draw the line between ego and self-awareness? His ego can divert his attention, he’ll be thinking about Thomas Chapin playing, one step removed. There are different selves involved, you learn to lean on one or the other of them. Music is a way to discover these selves.

“Playing music,” he says, “is like a workshop on the subject of life. It’s a microcosm of the way everything works. It instructs us about the principles of the workings of the world. All music is food. It just depends on how you digest it.”

He lives a “streamlined life” in Jackson Heights, Queens, a proletarian outpost in New York City. He tries to keep his financial and emotional overheads to a minimum – a minimum of encumbrances. He has no children, for example. He’s a “very careful” person. He calls himself a “conservative.” He does not jump up and make important decisions easily. Odd for somebody whose profession is the taking of risks in public. He spends “a lot of time in angst.”

You have to have a serene fall-back point. It’s a matter of will – do the essential thing no matter what. Although this is more than “the show must go on” sort of thing, you must, for instance, perform at a top level even if you’re sick and tired of performing. Meditation helps him develop serenity. Success helps too – the standing ovations made him realize that his “forward looking” music had reached the point where it was appealing to a more extensive and varied audience than he had imagined.

He came out of his 10-night “marathon” in the Club Il Pozzo knowing that he’s no longer interested in mere chit-chat. Let’s really say something. Hit the ground running. No warm-up, forget pacing. Do not leave anything on the plate. Say it all. Give everything you’ve got. The moment is now. Playing music is like an Olympic event.

*All albums previously released on Knitting Factory Records are now the sole property of and available through Akasha, Inc.