We Called Him Tom
When I first became a serious student of Jazz, one of the things that I enjoyed doing was reading about the lives of the musicians that created it. They gave the music the breath of life, and I found descriptions of their exploits, both on and off the bandstand, to be enjoyable, and, instructive. Bix, Prez, Bird, Trane and so many others were the people that not only created it, but also lived it, and eye/ear witness accounts about them are priceless.
By John Lunar Richey,
I’M DRIVING FAST AS I CAN TO REACH MY DESTINATION ON TIME. ALL GOOD TILL: HOW’D THAT TROOPER GET BEHIND ME SO QUICK? NO SIREN – BLINDING LIGHTS ON MY BUMPER. HOLDING MY BREATH I SQUEEZE THROUGH THREE LANES AND PARK ROAD SIDE ON THE TUMPIKE WITH THE NYC SKYLINE IS SIGHT. AFTER LOOKING OVER MY PAPERS THR TROOPER WANTS TO KNOW WHY I WAS SPEEDING. I APOLOGIZE AND TELL HIM I WORKED LATE AND NOW – BY THE TIME I GET TO QUEENS TO PICK UP MY FRIEND AND PERCUSSIONIST I SHOULD BE IN NYC. THE OFFICER ASKS, “ARE YOU IN A WEDDING BAND?”
“WHAT?” I STARE AT THE COP IN DISBELIEF, “NO, I’M DOING A PERFORMANCE AT A GALLERY IN NEW YORK CITY.” I LOOK OVER THE BACKSEAT. DID SOMEONE TOSS A TUX IN MY HATCHBACK? THE COP’S BRIGHT ORB SPREAD ACROSS TWO MILK CRATES OF ELECTRONICS AMD WIRES LOOKING MORE LIKE BOMB MATERIAL THAN MUSICAL EQUIPMENT. THE TROOPER RETURNS AND GIVES ME A WRITTEN WARNING: “DON’T LET ME CATCH YOU SPEEDING AGAIN.” HOW ELSE CAN I GET THERE ON TIME? MY RACING BECOMES MORE FRANTIC – FAST – YET STAYING OUT OF THE TROOPER’S REAR VIEW MIRROR – THEN OFF THE TURNPIKE – PASSING CARS IN NYC.
FINALLY, I’M IN THE APARTMENT OF THOMAS AND HIS FIANCEE TERRI. I’M IN A CALM PLACE WHERE YOU TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES TO ENTER. I TAKE A DEEP BREATH, TRYING NOT TO YELL: LET’S GO! THOM IS IN A DIFFERENT SPACE THAN ME. PERHAPS HE FINISHED MEDITATING. ANXIOUSLY AWAITING TO DEPART I NOTICE SOMETHING SCOTCH TAPPED TO THE HANDLE OF THEIR PHONE – ONE WORD: BREATHE. BREATHING IN QUEENS; INHALING THE PEACEFULNESS WITHIN THEIR HOME, EXHALING THE FRET WHICH ONLY CONTINUES AS WE RACE INTO NYC AND ARRIVE AT THE DOWNTOWN MUSIC GALLERY. PEOPLE ARE WAITING. WE SET UP QUICKLY. TAPE DECKS AND READING MATERIALS ARE ON THE TABLE. THOM’S PERCUSSION RACK IS SET UP.
WITHOUT CATCHING MY BREATH – WE’RE PERFORMING.
MY READING IS EDGY. THOMAS PLAYS IN A PEACEFUL, PERCUSSIVE PLACE. I’M SPEAKING STEAMY EROTICA BEHIND A DUMPSTER WHILE THOMAS HAS BIRDS SINGING IN THE TREES; BREATHING LIFE INTO HIS CLAY BIRD FIGURINES. PAINED WORDS WITH JOYOUS INTERPRETATION; WHAT I PAINT DARK, THOMAS GAVE LIGHT.
I MET THOM WHILE TAKING A JAZZ COURSE AT LIVINGSTON COLLEGE. AND I WAS ALWAYS AT THE STUDENT JAZZ ORCHESTRA PERFORMANCES WHERE THOMAS WAS ALWAYS THE FEATURE, THE FUTURE. AFTER COLLEGE I SAW THOM PLAY IN A NEW BRUNSWICK PARK WITH LIONEL HAMPTON. AT ONE POINT THE MUSICIANS WALKED THROUGH THE CROWD PLAYING A MARCH. THOM SNAKING THROUGH THE PARK SAW ME WITH FELLOW MUSICIAN JOSH. HE PAUSED IN FRONT OF US FOR A NOD AND A QUICK HONK AND A TWEET ON HIS SAX BEFORE FOLLOWING THE MUSICIAN’S WINDING PATH. OUR FRIENDSHIP REVOLVED AROUND MUSIC AND I’D GO SEE HIM PLAY AT THE KNITTING FACTORY, BUT EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN I WAS ASKED TO JOIN MACHINE GUN.
WITHOUT CATCHING MY BREATH – WE’RE PERFORMING.
INSIDE THIS CHILLY ART SPACE CALLED THE GAS STATION; MACHINE GUN IS DOING SOUND CHECK. THOMAS AND I ARE ALONE ON STAGE. I’M NOT THE SOUNDMAN WAS CHIDING THOM, BUT COLTRANE WAS PLAYING SO LOUD THROUGH THE SOUND SYSTEM WHILE PREPARING THE MICROPHONE LEVEL FOR THOM’S SAX. AS I PLACED A SMALL PORTABLE B&W TELEVISION ON STAND NEXT TO MY TABLE OF CABLES, COLTRANE WAS BLOWING TO A HIGHER POWER – REACHING FOR AN EXPRESSION TO LIFE’S PAIN AND JOY. THOMAS JUMPED IN, HITTING EVERY NOTE WHILE DEFINITELY EXPRESSING HIS OWN FEELINGS. THE SOUNDMAN LOWERED THE MUSIC, HUMBLED AND ATTENTIVE. I LOOKED AT THOMAS AND SAW THAT WONDERFULLY SUBLIME, IMPISH LOOK AND GLINT IN HIS EYE. AND THAT WAS ONLY THE SOUND CHECK.
THAT EVENING SONNY SHARROCK, JOINED US DRESSED SHARP ON A FINE 50 STYLE SUIT AND TIE. AS THE RHYTHM SECTION KEPT PUSHING AND HOLDING STRONG – SONNY PLAYED HIS BLACK GIBSON – DROPPING PICS, TRADING LICKS, CALLS AND RESPONSES, WITH GUITARIST BOB AND THOM. ONSTAGE I JOINED IN BUT WATCHED A LOT, SEEMINGLY OUT OF THE PICTURE TILL I PUT MICROPHONE TO MY TELEVISION AND TURNED ON THE 11 O’CLOCK NEWS. CHNAGING CHANNELS – EVERYONE WATCHED AND LISTENED TO A COLLAGE OF NEWS REPORTS. A VISUAL CUT-UP. TURNING CHANNELS – CLICK, CLICK, CLICK – SWITCHING NEWS STORIES WITH SLICES OF COMMERCIALS – SPLICING A STRANGE REPORT OF THE DAY’S NEWS. GUITARS WERE SCATHING AND THOM’S SAX WALING, TO THE EXPLORATIVE RHYTHMS OF SMOKIN’ BIL AND JAIR-ROHM. WE HIT AN AMAZING PEAK TOGETHER, A GLINT IN ALL OUR EYES. WITHOUT CATCHING MY BREATH – WE’RE PERFORMING.
THOMAS CHAPIN; NOW A WORLD-RENOWNED MUSICIAN – HAVING PLAYED JAZZ FESTIVALS ALL OVER THE WORLD – WAS ASKED TO BRING IN OUR NYC EXPERIMENTAL BAND TO HOLLAND. AT THE TIME I LIVED IN TAOS, BOB AND THOM IN NY AND THE RHYTHM SECTION IN SWEDEN. HAVING NOT PLAYED A NOTE TOGETHER FOR A COUPLE OF YEARS WE WERE NERVOUS BACKSTAGE. THOM’S SERENE VOICE QUELLED LAST MINUTE JITTERS STATING, “WE DO AS WE ALWAYS DO: WE IMPROVISE!” AND MACHINE GUN, THE BAND THAT GAVE THOMAS HIS NICK-NAME RAGE, TOOK THE STAGE LIKE TIME NEVER MATTERED. I HAD NO CONCEPT OF THIS BEING OUR FINAL PERFORMANCE. THOMAS – CENTER STAGE BLOWING EVERYONE AWAY WITH HIS TOUCH AND FEELING. HIS FLUTE COULD BE AS PEACEFUL AS HAND TOUCHING A TRICKLING STREAM, HIS SAX A SMOKING CAULDRON ABOUT TO ERUPT IN FLAMES. SOMETIMES PLAYING TWO SAXES SIMULTANEOUSLY THOMAS MASTERED CIRCULAR BREATHING – A MEDITATIVE DISCIPLINE – CREATING OF NEVER ENDING FLOW OF MUSIC. THE SYNCHRONICITY OF WORDS AND MUSIC MIXED INTO A FRENZY VIBRATING THE SPACE WITH ABSTRACT MAGICAL IMPROVISATION. MUSIC DEVELOPED IN THE HERE AND NOW: LIKE BREATHING.
Doug Maine, WWUH Connecticut: May/June Program Guide, 1998
Thomas Chapin occupied a special place in the jazz world and in the hearts of Connecticut music fans because he was as good a person as he was an engaging and innovative musician.
Chapin, 40, who died February 13 after courageously battling leukemia for nearly a year, was a Connecticut native, born and raised in Manchester. He was one of the most exciting and beloved performers on the area jazz scene for nearly two decades and had achieved global prominence in recent years with the Thomas Chapin Trio.
He formed the trio after several years as musical director of Lionel Hampton’s band and a stint with drummer Chico Hamilton’s group. At the same time he began a fruitful association with New York City’s Knitting Factory performance space and record company, which issued six Thomas Chapin Trio recordings. Many critics have called the trio’s latest, Sky Piece, released in February, one of the best of his career.
Chapin was little changed by the recognition and adulation he was starting to receive. Thus, his success was a source of local pride, even among those who didn’t always understand some of the more experimental aspects of his work; most know it was the restless, seeking energy -- the striving for transcendence -- that made him the artist that he was.
Happily, Thomas Chapin was no stranger to the WWUH airwaves, as he visited the station for interviews on many occasions. We announced his gigs and played his recordings -- maybe not enough in the more challenging cases, not always being as fearless or as open to all that could be made into music as he.
WWUH’s Chuck Obuchowski who also grew up in Manchester, knew of Chapin early on. He recalled seeing Chapin during his grammar school days sitting on a swing in a nearby schoolyard playing the flute. He doesn’t remember what he was playing, but was definitely struck by the sight.
Obuchowski was one of many who put together ""In Harmony: A Vision Shared,"" a benefit concert for Chapin, held February 1 at Cheney Hall in Manchester. In the program notes, Obuchowski wrote, ""Thomas Chapin is a musical pioneer of the highest order. He has mastered many varieties of flutes and saxophones, including non-western versions of these instruments; his technical prowess is beyond reproach. Above all, he has always dared to pursue his own muse, unfazed by criticism.""
Obuchowski included a quote from a radio interview, during which Chapin said, ""I always try to remember and remind all of us that the music exists because we love it, not because there’s any commercial basis for it... It needs everything we can give it.""
One of Chapin’s long-time friends at WWUH was Donna Giddings, who hosted Thursday Morning Jazz from 1983-1994 and interviewed the musician several times. In fact, Chapin even played at her wedding to fellow UH staffer Jim Bolan. ""Although Tom got paid, he certainly did it as a favor to us,"" she said.
She doesn’t remember exactly how they met, but -- like many area jazz fans -- heard him play numerous times at the 880 Club in Hartford. She also recalled him playing at the annual summer picnics WWUH held through the early-’80s and also saw him in New York with a band led by one of his most important teachers, saxophonist and educator Paul Jeffrey.
""Tom had an infectious laugh. He was always so easy to be with and unassuming,’"" said Giddings. ""I felt I could be his friend even though I’m not a musician and my knowledge of jazz can’t compare with his.""
That kind of approachability, respect for others and simple kindness carried into Chapin’s musical life as well. Even after becoming a cutting-edge jazz star, Chapin was never less than professional when sitting in with local musicians with whom other musicians with bigger egos and less talent would not deign to share a bandstand. And, thanks to his infectious energy and intense musicality, he usually managed to create something special in the process.
""He was someone with an artistic vision... He played so many types of jazz, it didn’t matter... His music evolved, he didn’t get stuck in one particular style,"" said Giddings.
""After the last time I interviewed him, we went out to lunch,"" she recalled. ""I remember asking him, ‘what do you do in your free time when you’re not practicing and composing?’ He said painting, I was really struck by the fact that...whether he was working or relaxing, there was creativity involved.""
Even when facing the challenge of leukemia, Chapin maintained his optimism and pursued all kinds of approaches to battling his illness. On the day before the Cheney Hall benefit, he said, ""Our mission sometimes does not go the way we want it to go. But nonetheless we are in life for some kind of purpose. So you have to find what the purpose is in all things that you come across or might come across.""
Thomas Chapin understood his purpose better than most of us ever will, no matter how long we live. That he gave music all he had was never more apparent than when he surprised even his family and closest friends by performing a piece at the February 1 benefit.
Thomas Chapin could have achieved so much more in music, but in many ways his life seems to have been a journey fulfilled. He’s with us still, in his recordings, through the musicians who continue where he left off and in the certainty that music is as eternal as the human spirit itself.
That Gene Seymour Blog March 20th, 2013 — jazz reviews
It’s September of 1991 and a gravely ill Miles Davis is, as Lord Buckley would put it, not merely “on the razor’s edge”, but on the “hone of the scone,” whatever that is, if that is what it is. Anyway, Miles is in his Malibu manse, semi-conscious, hooked up to all manner of wires and tubes. Deep down, he knows that this is all pointless. It definitely feels like Checkout Time’s arriving at any minute and all he can do is drift in and out of reality, trying to take in as much as he can before the lights go completely dark. He can dimly hear a radio piping in music from another room. Some dumbass has it tuned to a jazz station. Fuck that, Miles thinks. Anything but that! And it’s not just plain old jazz, but that squealing and squawking shit that Trane helped spread like a virus. I do not need that shit taking me out. I’ll take Manto-fuckin-vani over this! Just like that, his espresso eyes, which were starting to cloud over mere seconds ago, sharpen into hard, clear points as he hears this gorgeous, passionate alto sax solo soaring and slicing its way through the miasma. He’d love to sit up so he can hear better and, to his astonishment, he almost feels as though he could. The keening, probing sound continues to jab its way into his consciousness. He digs the raw aggression, the rippling arpeggios and, more than anything else, a tone that sounds the way light would sound if light could make sound. Mothafucka can play his ass off!! At that moment, a male nurse walks by his bed. Miles emits soft murmurs, which is the best he can do. The nurse doesn’t hear anything. Drastic measures are called for, so Miles attempts to simulate some sort of spasm. It’s lame, but it works. The nurse walks over. “Miles?,” the nurse whispers. “Hmmrefffrrr,” Miles says. “I’m sorry. Do you need anything?” The music’s almost over. If only someone would take these tubes out of his goddam nose… “Mwhegfffrrgggrdr.” “Mister Davis,” the nurse leans close to the parched, scarred lips. “I still can’t…” A raspy bullet, whatever’s left deep inside him, is violently pumped through his ravaged larynx into the idiot’s ear
“I SAID, who’s that on the mothafuckin radio, goddammit!” After a series of confusing exchanges, someone else in the house, presumably whoever had the radio on, finally figures out what Miles wants to know. He tells him that there was this bootleg tape of a young reed player out of New York, used to play with Lionel Hampton, but he’s just starting to make a name for himself in the downtown scene. Album’s not even out yet… Miles can sense the steam rising within him. It feels good, almost human, but he still sounds exasperated and weak at the same time. “Who…is…that…motha…fucka?” Serious coughing, maybe a trickle of blood… The name, the fool says, is Chapin. Was that his first or last name? Oh, right. Yeah, Tom. Thomas Chapin… Orders are rasped. Call that station! Get a copy of that tape! Find out where that mothafucka lives! Now, goddamit! And so on… Sooner than it’s possible to imagine, given the circumstances, Miles is on a long-distance call with Tom, who thinks at first that someone’s fucking with him. When he realizes, it’s not a joke, he thinks: Oh, my God! I’m on the phone with Miles Davis! And he sounds TERRIBLE… “Lissen, man,” Miles says weakly, gasping for air, “how soon can you get your ass out here? With…that…sax…” “Um,” Chapin says, not sure he heard correctly, but he answers anyway. “I dunno, Mister Davis, when do you…” “Now! Yesterday! Last week, goddammit! I’m dyin’ out here, man! I want…(wheeze)…I want to record with you…Just for one time…” Chapin is now certain someone’s messing with his head, big-time. He observes, tentatively, delicately that Miles may not…make it…by the time he flies to L.A. even if he leaves that second… “Well, then you better hurry your ass up” Click. From here, it’s too quick and hazy to keep track, but Thomas Chapin has somehow made the next flight from JFK to LAX. Miles, or someone close to him, takes care of traveling expenses and studio time.
Time movies fast. Here’s the studio, but where am I, Chapin wonders. Is it dawn or dusk? Where did this rhythm section come from and how many of them are there? Miles is wheeled into the room, connected to a respirator. There’s no way, Chapin thinks. But the horn is in Miles lap, poised for action. Miles, forgoing amenities, croaks out the only three words he will say to Tom Chapin all day:
“Follow…my…lead.” What follows is the kind of music that wills itself forward without stopping for thought or breath. It free-associates itself into something that’s neither funk nor free, neither “inside” nor “outside”, neither modern nor post-modern, neither swing nor rock; more to the point, it’s none of these things exclusively but a dense, yet buoyant amalgam of mid-to-late-20th century music’s varied precincts, high, low and in-between. It is, in other words, music that only Miles Davis could have set in motion – and that only Thomas Chapin’s luminous tone and inquisitive chops could help him finish. Ten hours and six tracks later, the last testament of Miles Dewey Davis is in the can. He returns to Malibu to await the final call, which comes as Tom is in mid-air somewhere over western Pennsylvania on his way back to the city… The session? Well, you know what happened with that session. By now, everybody knows what happened with that session and how it helped make jazz’s next century a …But that’s another fantasy, isn’t it?
Gene Seymour, arts and music writer; former music writer at NY Newsday
by Phil Tankel, Hartford Advocate, November 16, 1977
Perhaps you have seen Tom Chapin: slender, krinkly-hair tied in the back or loose, an orange beret atop a somewhat dreamy-eyed person. Maybe you saw him standing in front of one of the local jazz, Latin, or improvisational groups he currently plays in. Last winter in Manchester, I first heard Tom, playing alto, soloing for all he was worth. He was Coltrane, he was Parker, reaching for those impossible tones he could hear so clearly with his inner ear. Tom is developing rapidly; changes occur, he says, week to week.
Tom has been playing and writing music since he was a young child in Manchester. He began by playing the piano in imitation of an older brother, but dropped that instrument for the flute, ""probably because it was different."" While he was away at boarding school (Phillips Andover, ""the perfect place for me to do what I wanted to do""), he began to play piano again, mostly blues, and to transfer that music to the flute. Despite a considerable amount of energy devoted to playing music, taking lessons and writing, Tom describes himself at that time as being in a ""creative fog."" He was listening to rock and roll, mainly groups like King Crimson and Jethro Tull, ""because they featured woodwind instruments,"" but these did not capture his imagination like Rahsaan Roland Kirk. ""Always Kirk,"" Tom puts it, and even today, in spite of his tremendous admiration for Coltrane, Tom draws his main inspiration from the wizard of the many wind instruments. After Kirk, Tom began to explore the jazz woodwind literature; he points to Charles Lloyd, Yusef Lateef, and Gato Barbieri as major early influences. While at school Tom experimented musically, and discovered what he calls the ""essence of music"" through improvisation. He was jamming with some friends; a musical conversation arose quite spontaneously. Order developed from each musician playing simply what was inside. As Tom puts it, ""Improvisation showed me where all the written music comes from. It is all from you. It showed me essence. It is all raw, all free of any labels. It is simply you.""
Tom graduated from his New England prep school to the University of Miami, ""because I thought it would be an interesting place to be."" A semester’s worth of interest was more than enough, and he picked up his instrument cases and returned to Connecticut and the Hartt School of Music. Last year he tried to combine being a full-time student with numerous professional gigs; the experience was not as satisfying as he would have liked. Now he attends school on a part-time basis, playing in the Jazz Lab and the Big Band. ""Jazz is my discipline now as opposed to classical music. It used to be that I studied classical in order to become disciplined and used jazz to let loose. Now I use jazz for my discipline.""
At Hartt, Tom takes private lessons with James Hill and Paul Jeffrey, the Lab leader. Tom also plays lead alto in the Big Band, because ""you have to develop your skills. You learn to play with a section, to read charts and do some improvisation. I play second alto also in the Manchester Community College’s Big Band behind a tremendous musician, Sebby Giacco, and I learn so much from just listening to him. So the school bands play an important role in my musical training.""
The professional groups Tom plays with are all technically strong and quite varied in their sound. Talking Drums, led by Jose Goico, with Johnny ""Timbales"" Ventura, Tom Majesky, and Ned Alton, is a Latin percussion-based group; saxophone and guitar take most solos. ""The beauty of that group is that we do what we want to do and it is still marketable. If I wanted to make my money playing (I would play) that kind of music. I love playing it. It’s rewarding artistically, as well as every other way. It’s a whole other musical world.""
Jazz Clarion, headed by Lee Callahan, with Dave Santoro and Kit McDermott, is a traditionally-instrumented quartet playing jazz standards and original music. They have played in a few local clubs and schools, though Tom is disappointed that the group does not attract more performance opportunities.
Zasis, Rob Kaplan, Bill Sloat and Thad Wheeler, is an improvisational quartet, playing what Tom feels is truly his ""own music."" In his words: ""It is a total concept in music…I involve all of myself. I become an actor, a poet, a storyteller. Our music tells stories, paints pictures. It creates new worlds. You become a leader and a follower. It isn’t jazz, or classical, or rock or any other label. It is so difficult to describe Zasis. Everyone’s view of the group is different."" They have performed at Real Art Ways, the Hartford Art School, Foot Prints Community Arts Center, and they have a performance in the near future at Clark University. ""If anything has given me spiritual enlightenment, or direction in music or (helped) my musical awareness, Zasis has been my source.""
In Zasis, not only is improvisation utilized but also Tom brings in his personal history in the form of children’s instruments, whistles, blocks, wooden flutes, bulb horns, etc. Following his belief in total involvement he brings these sounds to bear on the ensemble’s sound. ""Suburban folk music"" he calls it, and the image is apt: a music for the upside-down, frenetic, arhythmic, atonal seventies, yet including the simple sound makers of childhood.
Reprinted with permission from the Hartford Advocate
"Biography" Published at www.allmusic.com, by Chris Kelsey, jazz writer and critic (date unknown)
The death of Thomas Chapin from leukemia at age 40 was one of those very cruel twists of fate that periodically mark the history of jazz. Unlike the many fine players to die of self-abuse before their time -- Charlie Parker and Bix Beiderbecke come to mind -- Chapin lived what was, by all accounts, an exemplary life. The fact that he was stricken in his late thirties by a disease that usually targets children is nearly as inexplicable as it is tragic. Fortunately, Chapin left behind an artistically significant and reasonably large body of work. Alto sax and flute were Chapin's principal instruments. He played alto with a huge, golden sound that sounded as if it had been burnished with fine-grained sandpaper. On flute, he got an edgy, near-classical sound that cut through his energetic rhythm sections like a knitting needle through pudding. Chapin's style on all his instruments was utterly personal. Although he drew from influences like Rahsaan Roland Kirk and Jackie McLean, Chapin's voice was his own. His lines combined the linearity of classic bebop with the outward-bound, serial-like tendencies of much late-'90s free improvisation; his composition for small ensembles reflected the same traits.
Chapin was first attracted to jazz through the work of Earl Bostic and Rahsaan Roland Kirk. He attended college at Rutgers, the state university of New Jersey. There he studied with tenor saxophonist Paul Jeffrey and pianist Kenny Barron. After receiving his B.A. in music from Rutgers, he attended Hartt College of Music in Connecticut, where he studied with alto saxophonist Jackie McLean (whose bright tone and quicksilver articulation left a mark on Chapin's later work). In 1981, he went on the road with vibist Lionel Hampton's big band. He served Hampton for five years as lead alto and musical director. He later worked with drummer Chico Hamilton's quartet. In the late '80s, he began associations with fellow altoist Ned Rothenberg and the metal/free jazz outfit Machine Gun. He also began performing more often as a leader around this time.
When the downtown New York club the Knitting Factory opened in 1986, Chapin was one of their first acts. When the club started their own record label, Knitting Factory Works, Chapin was the first artist signed. He formed a trio with bassist Mario Pavone and drummer Steve Johns in 1989. That outfit, with Michael Sarin replacing Johns, would form the core of his most adventurous projects until the end of his life. Chapin recorded a number of well-received albums, adding to his trio such guests as alto saxophonist John Zorn and violinist Mark Feldman. Chapin also recorded with a small string section and a brass section. These discs evidenced an even greater talent for arrangement and composition than had been previously apparent. In 1993, he led a date for Arabesque that showcased his more straight-ahead style; I've Got Your Number featured a rhythm section of the bop-oriented pianist Ronnie Matthews and bassist Ray Drummond, along with drummer Johns. The next year, he again recorded a fairly conventional jazz album for Arabesque, featuring trumpeter Tom Harrell and pianist Peter Madsen. Chapin also evinced an interest in world music. In person, he would frequently play various small hand percussion instruments and wood flutes, combining various traditions in an affectionate and non-exploitive way.
Chapin never deserted his avant-garde-ish roots, continuing to record excellent post-bop albums on the Knitting Factory house label. One of the last was Sky Piece, a trio with Sarin and Pavone, recorded in 1996 but finished and released just before his death in early 1998. Chapin was a player of great generosity and authentic spirituality. He played with rare humor, passion, and intelligence. At the end of his life, he was just beginning to receive attention outside the realm of experimental jazz. Indeed, had he lived, it's not inconceivable that Chapin's amalgam of freedom and discipline might have become a force in the jazz mainstream.
Frank van Herk - De Volkskrant - July 14 1995
"To New York alto saxophonist and flautist Thomas Chapin, music is a serious thing. With his concerts, he wants to elevate the audience to a higher plane: ""just like in church"". But Chapin is far from preachy or sanctimonious: he is an exuberant, passionate sax player, who produces an exciting amount of energy all by himself. An encounter with a ""spiritual traveller"" who became musical director for Lionel Hampton at 23. ""The stage is one of the most real places on earth.""
Thomas Chapin has always felt the need to do something different. As a teenager he was already a bit of an outsider, albeit one who knew what he wanted. And now, at age 38, he and his alto sax, his flute and his trio are involved much more in spiritual growth than with an easily marketable career. He plays jazz that fits in everywhere and nowhere, and ""energy"" is one of the key terms in both his conversation and his playing, that matches Jackie McLean's or Roland Kirk's in its exuberance and intensity.
Chapin doesn't wear Armani suits, but looks like a jazz hippie. And true enough our talk takes place in a macrobiotic coffee shop, where he wants to take in some healthy fare before the tour, with its ever present cheese rolls, is continued. While enjoying a ""Leaning Tower"", a concoction of bread and greens consisting of countless layers and held together with many picks, he talks about showbizz, the inner altar and the necessity of devils.
His contrariness began with his total lack of interest in pop music. ""Everyone goes through an AM radio phase, and so did I, but I quickly got bored with kid music and I didn't give a damn about lyrics. The groups I thought were not too bad all had horn players. Jethro Tull, for instance. But I soon discovered that Ian Anderson's flute playing was based entirely on that of Roland Kirk, and well, once you start listening to him, you find out how it's supposed to sound. Kirk was my gateway to jazz, not just because he played sax and flute so beautifully, but also because of his strong sense of history: through him I came into contact with all sorts of older styles.""
In spite of this sense of history it remains surprising that Chapin, after studying at Rutgers University and Hart College, where Jackie McLean was his teacher, became first alto and musical director for Swing veteran Lionel Hampton, when he was 23. This was hardly the trendy thing to do in 1980. For Thomas, it was a completely natural step. ""I wanted to gain experience in a big band, as almost all jazz musicians used to do in the past. There weren't that many large orchestras left when I came up, so I considered myself lucky. I did it for five, six years, and I enjoyed it; some of the gigs were a little stuffy, but there were also nights when the young guys in the band could play whatever they wanted. Hamp was open to everything, as long as it swung.
""I learned a lot from Hampton. Later, when I led my own groups, I realized how much. Timing, for instance: not just in your playing, but also in the way you structure a concert, working towards certain effects. The showbizz aspect. A positive attitude. And that you always have to stay relaxed, even at the fastest tempos. Make sure you always know what you're playing, instead of just standing there spraying notes.""
After leaving Hampton, and after a short stint in drummer Chico Hamilton's quartet, Chapin felt he was ready to develop his own style. Thus began a period of fanatical freelancing, motivated by worry. ""I thought: will I be able to make it on my own? I took every job I could get. Chamber music, country & western with a band from Kentucky, I played flute in a flamenco ensemble, anything, as long as I could finance my own thing. My colleagues often grouse about their work. There's an old joke: 'How can you make a jazz musician complain? Give him a gig.' You should always realize how great it is that you can play what you want.""
At these freelance gigs he often ran into bass player Mario Pavone, and they decided to collaborate, with Steve Johns on drums, who was later replaced by Michael Sarin. This trio became the most important vehicle for Chapin's music, which floats between freedom and structure, sounds grand and intimate at the same time, makes you feel good but is also deeply serious.
In the Eighties the band often performed at the Knitting Factory, the center of New York's eclectic dontown scene, and also recorded for the club's label. And yet, Chapin isn't completely part of this scene either: instead of zapping impatiently he builds long solos, and he doesn't cram his records with African thumb pianos, heavy metal guitas or throat singers from Mongolia. He is definitely influenced by other cultures and eras, but he prefers to integrate them organically into his acoustic trio, which developed a highly characteristic sound as a result.
""We sometimes use African rhythmic patterns or Asian scales, but we don't shove them in people's faces. That's also because our line-up is so spare. And we sometimes play in old-fashioned big band style, in which the bass and drums function as entire sections. So that you don't sound like an orchestra and not like a trio, but like something in between. There's always something happening orchestrally: I back up a bass improvisation with percussive sax licks, the bass and sax play riffs behind a drum solo. There's a contionuous dialogue especially between me and the drums; the bass is more like a hammer.
""The energy you can generate this way is phenomenal. I think that music should elevate people's spirits to a higher plane, change the way they experience themselves and reality. They should leave the concert as different people. Just like in church. You take the listener on a spiritual journey, with you leading the way, but once you're on the road you get so much energy back from the audience that together you start the form one big generator. That's why the stage, to me, is one of the most real places on earth. People often regard a performance as something less real than reality, but in fact it's often much more real, because it reveals your true nature.
""Every musician worthy of the name knows that that is the purpose of your art. You should prepare for a concert as if for a trancendental journey, which allows you to reach something higher in yourself. Some musicians do this in all sorts of destructive ways, others meditate. I just try to be as clearheaded as possible, and cpmpletely focused on what I want to do.
""An important condition for this elevated state of awareness is that the audience should be truly present, truly listening. If they're talking, they're not open to your music. For such cases I have a couple of showbizz tricks, to get their attention: a little fanfare, or a shocking racket, immediately disavowed ironically. Jazz is the ultimate coming together of showbizz, art and spirituality. These three elements don't exclude each other.
""Another effect I like to use is making the trio sound like a ticking mechanism, that slowly gets up to speed, or winds down. This works on several levels. It's a humorous way to heighten the tension, or to release it gradually. You make the listener aware of what you're doing. And it evokes images, which people can fill in themselves. Everything is so literal nowadays. MTV forces very unambiguous dreams on you when you listen to music; it's much more fun if you allow them to come to you.""
The stage as altar, as dream factory and as showbizz set: Chapin's vision is slightly woolly and clearly earthy at the same time. He often expresses himself in symbols, but what they stand for can be easily traced in his work. This includes the devils, whom he often mentions in his liner notes. ""You need opposition, friction. Without friction there is no heat, no energy, no life. You strive towards higher things, but you also have a body that wants to swing, that has erotic desires, that has to eat. Those are the devils, good and bad, that you should remain on good terms with. Sounds that are nothing but sweet end up not being sweet at all; it's when they're bittersweet that they become beautiful.
""A very simple example of productive opposition, are the CDs I record for Arabesque: on those, I work with a pianist who outlines chord changes. These are limiting, my playing with the trio is very free. But while searching for possibilities within those restrictions, I often get ideas that would never occur to me otherwise.""
Although Chapin's free playing is always easy to follow, it has suprised some people that he willingly put on the straightjacket of Arabesque's more conventional mainstream CDs. This just amuses him, as he still enjoys startling the audience for a moment, by doing the unexpected. He also did this in other projects such as Machine Gun, a band in which the late Sonny Sharrock played guitar: pounding rhythms and raw screeching from the nethermost regions of the soul, inspired by the record of the same name by Peter Brtzmann from 1968, and his collaboration with Sharrock and Bill Laswell in Last Exit. On the other hand, his yet to be digitalized album Spirits Rebellious contains sweetly undulating Brazilian grooves and melodious, lovely flute playing. ""You can also hit people softly.""
by Owen McNally, Hartford Courant, January 28, 1999
A little under a year ago, Thomas Chapin, a rising jazz star from Manchester, died at 40 after a yearlong battle with leukemia.
In his too few years, Chapin created a solid legacy of acclaimed recordings, compositions and memorable live performances around the world.
And now Chapin's onetime mentor, the jazz saxophonist, arranger and noted educator Paul Jeffrey, has taken a step to preserve that legacy by arranging for Chapin's compositions, papers and memorabilia to become part of the music archives at Duke University in Durham, N.C. Jeffrey has headed a noted jazz program at Duke since 1983. A one-man department, he teaches jazz history, saxophone, band and independent study programs.
Obtaining material for the archives is nothing new for Duke’s jazz maestro. He also archived the works and papers of the African American composer William Grant Still. Les Brown, the renowned band leader who provided backup for comedian Bob Hope for many years, is another of a number of musicians whose papers and recordings are there.
Jeffrey met Chapin when the saxophonist/flutist was studying as an undergraduate at the University of Hartford’s Hartt School in the 1970s. Jeffrey was then associated with Jackie McLean’s jazz program at Hartt. Older fans might recall Jeffrey, who’s a master jazz arranger and ensemble leader, performing more than 20 years ago in Paul Brown’s Monday night jazz series in Bushnell Park.
Jeffrey later moved to teaching duties at Rutgers University in Brunswick, N.J. There he resumed his mentor role with Chapin, who transferred from Hartt.
""Tom was a great player. And just before his death he was on the verge of really making a breakthrough and reaching a wider audience with his music,"" Jeffrey says from his office at Duke.
""He was one of the nicest persons I’ve ever met. He didn’t have any ego. And even with his immense talent, he never tried to overshadow players in his bands.""
Jeffrey says the archival material will include Chapin’s compositions, diaries, instruments, recordings ""and just about everything connected with his music.""
Jeffrey has arranged a tribute concert for Chapin to be held Friday at 8 p.m. at Baldwin Auditorium on the Duke campus.
""It’s appropriate to have a tribute for Tom at Duke, because he had performed here. It’ll feature musicians who went to school with Tom or worked with him,"" Jeffrey says.
Chapin, who died last February, was at the height of his career when he was stricken with a fever while touring Africa. When he returned to the States, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, a disease in which malignant cancers attack the blood and bone marrow.
Even when death seemed inevitable, friends say the universally well-liked, philosophical musician somehow kept up his spirits. He was, he told The Courant, happy to be ""living in the realm of the miraculous.""
Chapin died just ten days after he basked in the applause, warm love and good wishes of a standing-room-only crowd of 350 fans at a benefit concert held for him at Cheney Hall in Manchester.
Rumor had it that Chapin was far too ill even to make the trip from his Manhattan home to Manchester, his hometown.
Chapin not only showed up, but, in an emotional, mesmerizing drama, he took the stage and thanked the audience. And then for the first time in many months he played public. Although looking gaunt, he somehow managed to improvise a searingly emotional flute solo. No one who was at that love fest in Cheney Hall will ever forget that heroic moment when the dying young musician created exquisitely life-affirming music. These final bars in public under such heartbreaking circumstances were a profoundly felt ode to joy and life.
As a teenager hooked on jazz, Chapin honed his skills at Hartford jazz spots. In his 20s, he was musical director for Lionel Hampton, with whom he toured the world. Later he was a sideman with Chico Hamilton.
It was only recently that he began making his own mark with his bold, innovative playing and writing. No matter how complex or adventurous the music, it always had a passionate, cutting edge.
And no matter how successful he was becoming, Chapin remained as modest, friendly and likable as he had been when he was an enthusiastic, totally unknown kid from Manchester jamming his heart out at Hartford’s 880 Club.
by Robert Hicks - Jazziz - November 1993
Connecticut-bred Thomas Chapin did his time in Lionel Hampton's band before branching out on his own. Working mainly in trio and quartet settings, Chapin always projected a big band sound. With his new release Insomnia (Knitting Factory Works*) from The Thomas Chapin Trio Plus Brass, his canny sarcasm and circus humor jump out at you with the fun of a carnival ride.
Chapin's wide range of percussive energy and timbres swells with brass band antics, frayed blues, and a wide vibrato. His swirling ostinatos set an infectious groove while his various riffs run at break-neck speed, waltz slowly, or flutter intensely over a Latin beat.
""Built into my music is a lot of sarcasm, I like to have fun. I like to tease.""
The altoist draws on personal experiences for his compositional ideas on Insomnia. ""For me it's an image thing. I have an image in my head, and it gives me a feeling which produces a rhythm and a melody,"" said Chapin.
An episode from the TV show The Twilight Zone spawned Chapin's idea for Insomnia. ""There's a woman who has recurring nightmares. Nightmare images and ticking clocks are recurring themes. It has a lot to do with cutting our usual state of mind, which is sleep,"" said Chapin, referring also to the track ""coup détat.""
""I took the vocabulary of the trio and expended it into these broader pieces. I tried different approaches compositionally. I try to give the instruments a variety of roles,"" he explained. Sounding at times like a big band with solo space for the brass, and at others displaying color patterns more characteristic of a small ensemble, Chapin's group moves to a lot of different grooves. Ranging from funky march tempos to campy vaudeville humor, Chapin's band can sound both serene and rambunctious.
""Golgotham,"" with its Latin rhythms and funk grooves, places the tuba up front. There are a series of duets as well as big band unison lines. ""It's basically a romp. It's kinda like Halloween with a bunch of skeletons jumping around toward the end when I cry 'Golgotham' and the band yells 'Bone dance,'"" said Chapin.
""Different motives relate to things that I've heard in the past. They come up as dream fragments in a way. There's a chicken call in there. Different elements of things I've heard from Ray Charles, James Brown, and old time swing bands. The melody is very much like 'It Ain't Necessarily So'; it's just re-rhythmized and fooled around with a bit.""
Back from a trip to Cape Town, South Africa, Chapin was touched by the events in the equatorial province of Sudan where civil war has left many refugees, bombed villages, and youth kidnapped for training as guerillas. ""There's so much tragedy in Africa, and the world seems to turn its back on it,"" said Chapin.
""On 'Equatorial,' I wanted to move blocks of sound at different rates,"" he explains. By doing so, Chapin achieves a gradually developing sound without losing fluidity.
Apart from his expanded brass work on Insomnia, Chapin has been recording prolifically over the past two years not only with his trio Anima, but with pianist Borah Bergman on Inversions (Mu Works), with bassist Mario Pavone on Toulon Days (New World), and on saxist Ned Rothenberg's Overlays (Moers Music).
Chapin currently has in the can a new project led by Pavone which will feature Randy Brecker, Ray Drummond, Steve Johns, and pianist Kent Hewitt. He's on guitarist Michael Musillami's Glass Art (Evidence) and is working on a new recording with pianist David Lahm as a follow-up to the 1992 Music Memory Hoedown (Generation). Chapin's own quartet, with Drummond, Johns, and pianist Ronnie Matthews, as well as conga player Louis Bauzo on two cuts, plans a Christmas release for I've Got Your Number on Arabesque. ""Arabesque is a new label for me. They're recording some young forward-looking people,"" said Chapin.
%(small)*All albums previously released on Knitting Factory Records are now the sole property of and available through Akasha, Inc.%"
by Steve Starger - Hartford Advocate - February 12, 1998
Cheney Hall has seen sellout crowds before, but never one quite like this before. Friends, colleagues and family of Thomas Chapin packed the Manchester Hall to pay tribute to this locally raised alto saxophonist, flautist and composer. It goes beyond cliché to say there was a lot of love in that room.
Musicians with whom Chapin has performed over the years took the stage in various combinations, playing his compositions with an extra level of urgency and passion. Midway through the concert, Chapin himself appeared to a thunderous standing ovation.
Wearing a saffron scarf and white tunic, Chapin took his accolades modestly, then unlimbered his flute. Accompanied by his longtime bandmates, bassist Mario Pavone and drummer Mike Sarin, Chapin played one of his own compositions, an angular ballad suffused with dark poetry. The crowd roared for more.
Such approbation is not unusual for a musician on Chapin's level of excellence. At age 40, he can look back on a musically uncompromising and critically acclaimed career that began in the mid-'70s at Hartt School of Music under the tutelage of Jackie McLean and Paul Jeffreys, and has taken him to the far reaches of the planet. Today Chapin is considered by peers and critics to be one of the most innovative players of his generation.
But the sense of urgency at Cheney Hall that night was all too real for Chapin. Just a couple of months shy of his 41st birthday, at a time when his career seems poised to make a long-overdue jump to higher visibility, Chapin personally faces a scary and uncertain future.
He was diagnosed last year with leukemia. His brief appearance at Cheney Hall marked the first time Chapin has played, in public or private, since last August. He has been physically unable to perform, partly because of the disease itself and partly because of the debilitating effects of chemotherapy treatments.
"I go day to day," Chapin says over the phone from his home in Queens, NY. "One day, I just put my hands on my sax case and cried."
Chapin first suspected something was wrong on a visit to Zanzibar early last year. He had no particular agenda for the trip except to shake up his world a bit. "I just wanted to go, so I upped and went," he says.
Chapin hooked up with a musicologist friend in Zanzibar and also connected with musicians in Uganda. One day at his hotel in Zanzibar, Chapin began to feel weak. ""I had trouble climbing stairs,"" he says. ""I went to swim with some dolphins, and I thought I was going to drown.""
The feeling persisted, so Chapin went for a blood test at a local hospital. The results showed an abnormally high blood count. Chapin thought he had chronic fatigue syndrome or mononucleosis. He cut his trip short by a week.
Back in New York, Chapin went to his own doctor. That's when he learned he had leukemia. With that diagnosis, Chapin's life changed dramatically.
Initially, Chapin says, ""I didn't know what it was."" He soon found out. He was admitted to a hospital for a month of chemotherapy, after which his symptoms went into remission. Last summer, Chapin felt well enough to perform at the JVC Jazz Festival in New York City and at the Litchfield Jazz Festival in western Connecticut.
Chapin's doctor opted to perform a relatively new treatment involving stem cell and bone marrow transplants using Chapin's own marrow. But when doctors harvested stem cells and bone marrow from Chapin's hips, they found the leukemia had returned.
By the end of last summer, Chapin was back in the hospital undergoing aggressive chemo treatments. ""They thought they would lick it, but they didn't,"" he says. ""I went through hell.""
Chapin admits he's ""scared shitless,"" but adds ""partly, that's ego. You can only be so scared for so long. I'm very optimistic about living."" Indeed, through it all, Chapin has managed to hold on to the infectious optimism that has permeated his music from the beginning. He and his wife, Terri, were married in Chapin's hospital room last October, at the start of his second chemotherapy treatment.
""You become very close through adversity,"" Chapin says. ""Your life changes, and the things you might have put off become more urgent. It was a good thing for us to do.""
Chapin decided to stop the chemotherapy and at this point is ""aggressively pursuing"" alternative treatments, he says. He has been seen by the Dalai Lama's doctor, has changed his diet and is taking Tibetan herbs four times a day. He is also in psychotherapy and is practicing Ki, a Japanese healing regimen involving breathing techniques.
Has all of that made a difference? ""At this moment, it's better,"" Chapin says. ""It's moment to moment.""
As news of Chapin's condition became known, friends and colleagues responded by staging a benefit concert for him last November at New York's Knitting Factory, where Chapin has been a regular performer. The all-star show, which raised about $5,000 to help cover Chapin's expenses, featured such luminaries as Kenny Barron, Anthony Braxton and John Zorn.
Buoyed by the New York concert's success, Chapin's musician friends in Connecticut felt they needed to mount a similar benefit closer to home. Chapin did, after all, hone his chops in Hartford area clubs in the late 1970s and 1980s. And what better venue than a hall in Chapin's home town?
""After the New York concert, there was this demand from a lot of quarters to do something in Hartford,"" Pavone says. ""It's the first time I've seen virtually all of the organizations cooperating. I hope it'll be something that will carry on in the Hartford area.""
Performers who donated their time included the Thomas Chapin Trio Plus Brass (which Chapin formed in 1989); pianist Peter Madsen's trio; Paradigm Shift, featuring drummer Pheeroan Ak Laff; pianist Don DePalma's group; poet Vernon Frazer and mandolinist Bill Walach. All of them have performed or recorded with Chapin in the past.
The band Motation reunited for the occasion, front-loading its repertoire with Chapin originals in honor of its former member. And the Trio Plus Brass ensemble closed its set with a furious and funny extravaganza that was equal parts Mingus and Zappa but, finally, all Chapin. It ably demonstrated the breadth of Chapin's musical references and his infectious, Dadaist humor.
Pavone calls Chapin ""a hell of a swinging player. His spirit is just phenomenal. He has been a gigantic influence on me and now he's teaching me still, with his courage in fighting his latest battle.""
Chuck Obuchowski, a jazz radio announcer and spokesman for the Connecticut Jazz Confederation (one of the event's many sponsors) observes that ""technique aside, [Chapin] has an extra special quality that few musicians have. He's of the generation that went the academic route, but unlike some of his peers, he has something that gives his music a unique stamp. I think he's in the forefront of the new music.""
After graduating from Rutgers University (in the late '70s, Hartt had no degree program in jazz), Chapin landed a gig as music director for Lionel Hampton's orchestra and toured internationally for about six years. In the mid-'80s he joined drummer Chico Hamilton.
Pavone met Chapin in 1980, performing in a tribute concert to Charles Mingus in Bushnell Park. ""Every time Tom soloed, it knocked everybody out,"" Pavone says. Chapin's first CD, The Bell of the Heart was released on Pavone's Alacra label. Six CDs later--the latest, Sky Piece, is scheduled to be released Feb. 15--the Thomas Chapin Trio has proven itself to be one of the most fiercely individual groups on the scene, experimental without losing that all-important ability to swing.
The Cheney Hall concert outdid the Knitting Factory event, raising more than $7,000 for Chapin. That's good news for Chapin, but, at this point, he says, ""I don't know what God has planned for me.""
If God's plan remains a mystery to him, those who know Chapin and admire him and his music are making it very clear how they feel.
Reprinted with permission from the Hartford Advocate
%(small)Photo by Stuart Feldman%
By Larry Blumenfeld - Jazziz, July 1998
"Marty Ehrlich recalls a note that Jackie McLean once sent to Thomas Chapin. ""You're the best student I've ever learned from,"" it said. In his life and career, Chapin had a way of turning things around – in every context, and for the better. He seemed less interested in assumed roles, more in pure and open communion.
That barely touches on the many ways in which the jazz world will miss Chapin, who died on February 13th at age 39 after a year-long bout with leukemia. As a saxophonist, flutist, composer and bandleader, Chapin was tireless in his passions, seemingly effortless in his mastery, and never without a provocative point of view. He's remembered right now as a powerful musical force cut short in his prime. He will be remembered for the ages as one whose focus and spirit changed the nature of the music and the musicians around him.
Chapin began his music studies with McLean; other formative teachers included saxophonist Paul Jeffrey, and pianist Kenny Barron. After directing Lionel Hampton's orchestra for six years and playing in Chico Hamilton's band, he formed a trio with bassist Mario Pavone, and drummer Steve Johns (Johns was succeeded by Michael Sarin). Chapin often augmented the trio with horns, strings, percussionists, and other instrumentation. He also worked regularly with many of jazz's more ascendant and adventurous artists, including John Zorn, Ned Rothenberg, Marty Ehrlich, Ray Drummond, Peggy Stern, Tom Harrell, and Anthony Braxton.
Chapin is commonly pointed to as one who helped the downtown scene connect with a larger audience. He was the first artist signed to the Knitting Factory record label.* Others credit Chapin with lending a more experimental edge to jazz's mainstream. Really, he transcended such analysis.
Like one of his main musical inspirations, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Chapin approached live performances with an extroverted sense of theater. Also, like Kirk, Chapin's mastery of his instruments, particularly alto saxophone and flutes, were provocative on their own terms. He was a monstrous saxophonist, and certainly one of this generation's flute masters.
""There was a sense of this incredibly broad palette of expressive elements in his playing,"" said Ehrlich, ""and he used them with a lot of panache and vigor and exuberance. So I felt inspired as a co-conspirator."" Bassist Pavone shared an especially close relationship with Chapin, and found it hard to pick up his instrument after Chapin's death. ""I'll miss the music I'll never get to hear,"" he said. ""As Thomas told me, the plane was just gaining altitude.""
That's true. And what sent Chapin's music and his career soaring was more than technical mastery. It was a purposeful spirituality, fueled by Chapin's appetite for folk musics from around the world. ""Plenty of artists could push art forward,"" commented Sam Kaufman, Chapin's friend and manager for the last year of his life. ""But Thomas could be in front of any audience and hone in on what would touch them. He really was one of the great communicators in music. That's our biggest loss.""
That sense came across during several stirring benefits held for Chapin in his last months and maybe most forcefully at a memorial in St. Peter's Church in New York. His widow, Terri Castillo Chapin, spoke of how Thomas shared even his final struggle – of healing circles, of a ""team"" that united Western and alternative medical practitioners just as Chapin's music united players from various musical camps. Musicians played, revealing the depth of Chapin's influence, as well as his own rich body of compositions. And in the room's center was a blown-up photo of Chapin, hat in hand over his heart after a performance, projecting humility, seeming to say that all of this flows from, and to, a greater place.
%(small)Reprinted with permission from the author and Jazziz Magazine, July 1998%
%(small)*All albums previously released on Knitting Factory Records are now the sole property of and available through Akasha, Inc.%"
"That Gene Seymour Blog March 20th, 2013 — jazz reviews
The first time I heard him play was sometime in 1988 on an LP (ask your parents, kids, because I hear they may be coming back) entitled, The Sex Queen of the Berlin Turnpike, a jazz-and-poetry mix written and produced by a central Connecticut crony of mine named Vernon Frazer, novelist, raconteur, boxing aficionado and bass player who’d provided musical accompaniment to his readings here and, in years to come, at such venues as the Nuyorican Café and the Knitting Factory. As I listened, I became acutely aware of this flute coiling around Vern’s incantations and bass lines in lucid, deceptively simple patterns. As I grew up a flautist manqué, however reluctantly, I paid attention when people did unexpected things with the instrument, especially in jazz. And whoever was playing had nailed down a lyrical, probing style that refused to lean heavily on the flute’s naturally pretty tone. (The tone wasn’t pretty. It was beautiful, rich and – was it possible? – evenly layered.) And then I heard the alto sax solos. They could burn like scalding water. But they also soared; sometimes like jets, other times like gliders. More than anything, it was the relentless invention, the let’s-try-anything ingenuity that knew how to swing, bop and blow the blues in the grandest manner, but could step “outside” conventional changes with a nonchalance that seemed highly evolved even for the greyest of beards. I checked the name on the cover: Thomas Chapin. Hadn’t heard of him before that point and was chagrined at myself for not paying attention. I’d assumed he was this lesser-known veteran of the black music wars who likely spent the previous decade-and-a-half trolling through lofts along the eastern seaboard. “Who is this Thomas Chapin cat?” I wrote Vern, who in turn told me he was this barely-thirty-something white guy from Manchester, Connecticut. Manchester? Really? I’d spent part of my early newspaper years writing about that east-of-the-river suburb and, whatever its myriad virtues and defects, the next-to-last thing I’d have expected was someone who could wail like this. When I played this record to another colleague from those long-ago Hartford Courant days, his head swiveled as sharply as mine had to the sound of Chapin’s alto. When I told him who was playing and where he was from, my friend shook his head. “Shit, man,” he said. “Nobody from Manchester ever blew like that!”
It’s been fifteen years since Thomas Chapin died at just 40 years old and I still find myself wondering what he’s been up to. I keep thinking he’s got to be on some club’s weekend schedule, leading a trio or quartet in support of a new disc or performing yet another homage to his idol Rahsaan Roland Kirk. No matter where Tom would be, he would be turning heads, winning friends, encouraging people to come over to his side, no matter how forbidding or unconventional the setting. That’s what he always did, on- or off-stage. That’s why we miss him.
He was a member in good standing of the crowd of cutting-edge dynamos who waved the progressive-jazz banner throughout the eighties and nineties in downtown New York (a scene whose central HQ was that aforementioned Knitting Factory). Yet he also turned heads among more-traditional-minded listeners as a distinctive and highly accomplished post-bop player with a bright, lightly jagged tone and a prodigious, often-stunning range of expression. As with generations of musicians who had apprenticed under Lionel Hampton (in whose big band he’d worked for five years), Chapin carried “Gates’s” lessons of brash showmanship in his own trick-bag. But he never pandered to or shortchanged expectations, whether swinging from the core of a hard-bop standard or generating torrents of chromatic density off a simple riff.
The straight-ahead side blooms like fireworks on Never Let Me Go (Playscape), a recently-released triple-CD of Chapin leading quartets at two New York venues. The first two discs are from a November, 1995 show at Flushing Town Hall with pianist Peter Madsen, bassist Kiyoto Fujiwara and drummer Reggie Nicholson. The third disc teams Chapin and Madsen with the bass-drum tandem of Scott Colley and Matt Wilson at the Knitting Factory on December 19, 1996 – Chapin’s last live date in New York City. (He’d been diagnosed with leukemia the following year.) Though Chapin’s last studio recording, 1997’s Sky Piece, remains the one true gateway to his life’s work, Never Let Me Go evokes the warmth of Tom’s personality and the exhilaration he could communicate even to those who may not have fully appreciated his chosen idiom.
Ecstasy leaps from the first track, “I’ve Got Your Number,” whose chord changes provide a gauntlet for Chapin’s breakaway speed and power. There was never anything tentative about his attack; not even when, on the silky “Moon Ray,” the tempo gears down to stealth mode and Tom summarily shifts to shrewder thematic tactics. Along with his many other gifts, Chapin easily complied with Lester Young’s directive to “sing a song” when he played – which meant, as Prez suggested by example, to find the songs within the song that needed to come out. More than most of his downtown confreres, Chapin always exercised this prerogative, even on songs that weren’t part of the classic-pop canon as exhibited here on both “You Don’t Know Me” and “Wichita Lineman,” whose melodies Chapin irradiates with such conviction that you get the feeling he could have, in time, single-handedly embedded them both in the traditionalist fake-book.
His own compositions become occasions for Chapin’s more imaginative dramas of harmony and rhythm doing their approach-avoidance ritual. These are most prominent on the Knitting Factory gig; it must be noted that Matt Wilson, whose own embraceable style and personality are mirror images of Chapin’s, opens wider terrain for both Madsen and Chapin to lunge at the edges of time and space. On such pieces as “Big Maybe” and “Flip Side,” whatever ambiguities, discordances and incongruities play their way through each solo do so from a solid core, which Wilson tends with inviolate calm, but also with a gentle persistence of vision. Madsen makes his presence even more pronounced on the latter set; he builds his own model airplanes to fly as eccentrically, yet as emphatically as Chapin’s own. Together, this group could have helped make the cutting-edge a place where all would be welcome, exalted and, eventually, transformed. It’s nice to think so anyway.
When someone dies as prematurely as Chapin, there usually comes in his wake several voices inspired by his example to fill the void. (Think of all those bright, hot horns who picked up where Clifford Brown left off. Or all those actors who are still filling in the blanks left behind by James Dean’s car crash.) In the decade-and-a-half since Chapin’s death, those examples are harder to find, especially his ability, or more accurately, his impulse, to bridge the gap between progressive and traditional jazz music – or to, at the very least, extend what critic Jim Macnie characterized as the “dialogue” between two wary, warring factions. As jazz kept shifting shape at the close of the century, bending and twisting itself into new forms while struggling with how much of its past forms it should retain (or shed), Thomas Chapin offered a model for the music’s future by making his own art pliant, inquisitive and open enough to accept whatever the times demanded. I don’t know whether the “amalgam of freedom and discipline” described in Chapin’s Allmusic.com biography could have slowed down or even stopped jazz’s free-fall in a music marketplace that became even more mercurial after his death. But I’m far from alone in wishing he’d had more time to try."
Gene Seymour, arts and music writer; former music writer at NY Newsday
By OWEN McNALLY; Courant Jazz Critic
January 31, 1998
All the world was Thomas Chapin's oyster last January as the globe-trotting, 39- year-old jazz saxophonist, flutist and composer was happily touring Uganda and Tanzania.
The Manchester native, who honed his formidable skills in Hartford jazz spots as a kid, served his national apprenticeship as a wunderkind musical director for jazz legend Lionel Hampton's big band from 1981 to 1986 and a swinging sideman for drummer Chico Hamilton in the late '80s.
In recent years, Chapin moved from such coveted mainstream employment to make his mark on the cutting-edge jazz scene with his acclaimed series of almost a dozen recordings on the Arabesque and Knitting Factory Works labels. The New York Times has hailed him as ""a virtuoso. . .one of the more schooled musicians in jazz, both technically and historically.'' National critics felt he was a star on the rise, poised to land a contract with a major record label.
But suddenly, in Africa, Chapin, the perpetual picture of health and a robust improviser, became stricken with a mysterious fever and loss of strength. Returning quickly to the United States, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, a disease in which malignant cancer cells are found in the blood and bone marrow. Since then he's been in and out of the hospital, and undergone chemotherapy and blood transfusions. He's also tapped into such nontraditional care as herbal diet, acupuncture and consultation with a Tibetan healer.
Chapin has been too ill to work since his last gig in August at the Knitting Factory, the noted avant-garde bastion in lower Manhattan. Meanwhile, his ""massive medical expenses have busted'' his insurance coverage, says his good friend and longtime collaborator, bassist Mario Pavone.
To help out, many of Chapin's friends and colleagues will perform in a benefit concert for him Sunday at 5 p.m. at Cheney Hall, in his hometown of Manchester.
Dozens of musicians have donated their services for the marathon called ""In Harmony: A Vision Shared.'' The lineup includes The Thomas Chapin Trio & Brass (with Marty Ehrlich subbing for Chapin), the Peter Madsen Trio, the Don DePalma Group, Motation and Paradigm Shift.
"This response is just so amazingly beautiful. If I'm physically able, I'll be there," Chapin says by phone from his Manhattan apartment.
"I was supposed to be in Africa for five weeks last January. But I got sick, came home and found out it was this nasty thing. Not in a million years would you dream you would get some horrible thing like this. It just happens quickly. Usually people discover it just in a routine blood test, or when they start bruising," he says.
Chapin turned 40 last March, just two days after entering the hospital, gravely ill. Musician friends gave him a birthday party in his room and stayed by his bedside on half-day shifts.
In a more recent hospital stay, Chapin married his longtime sweetheart, Terri Castillo, an editor/filmmaker, who has had to take time off from work to care for him for several months.
"Things were really poppin' for us before Thomas became ill," says Pavone, a collaborator in Chapin's trio recordings.
Performances at leading jazz festivals and other gigs had to be shelved. A new release by the trio, "Sky Piece," will be released soon. Pavone believes it is their best ever, an artistic breakthrough. But Chapin's battle with leukemia has put everything on hold from day to day.
by Bob D’Aprile, Hartford Advocate, July 9, 1990
"Tom Chapin sits in his Queens apartment, surrounded by the music and art that shape his life. Instruments and recordings fill the room where this eclectic musician originates his ever-changing and ever-growing musical persona.
Since his formative days as a musician, Chapin’s artistic eyes have opened wider and wider with each passing day. And he fulfills his yearning for expansion of his sonic consciousness with a variety of projects in jazz, Latino and improvisational music.
""Even though I’m involved with a lot of projects, you try and give yourself to each one,"" says Chapin, 33, who was born in Manchester. ""I don’t know if I’ll ever arrive at a point where I’ll stop growing.""
Chapin, who will be playing in Hartford at both the Real Art Ways jazz fest and the 880 Club this summer, spent more than five years touring the world as musical director and lead saxophonist/flutist with the Lionel Hampton Orchestra. He’s currently involved with five other projects, ranging from the pure improvisation of his part time group Machine Gun (Which has released two ""live"" albums) to his own Thomas Chapin Trio and the five-piece Motation, both of which perform combined melodies and improvised composition. He also plays along with the Latin influenced sounds of Alborada Latina, a chamber music ensemble for Latin American music, and Flamenco Latina, a vocal and acoustic group which blends flamenco and Latin rhythms.
His latest solo album, Spirits Rebellious, recorded in 1989 and released on Alacra Records, ventures into the area of World music with a compliment of both traditional and improvised material.
Chapin has been developing musically since graduating from college 10 years ago. During the past three or four years, he’s been highly visible, with concert appearances at notable New York venues such as the Blue Note, the Knitting Factory and the Gas Station, and abroad as a featured artist in Venezuela and Panama.
Though he has been playing and writing music since he was a young boy in Manchester, Chapin began by playing the piano in imitation of an older brother. He soon dropped that instrument for the flute, and while away at Andover Academy picked up the saxophone as well. ""One of the guys was a saxophone player, so he let me borrow his soprano,"" he says.
Chapin remembers it was easy to transfer what he knew from the flute to the saxophone, and he concentrated on both instruments in college. Initially enchanted by the sound of the instruments, he was later introduced to the exhilarating creativity of jazz.
Chapin said he didn’t even hear the music of the great saxophonist Charles Parker until he was in college. Back in high school, he was listening to a sampling of rock music of the ‘70s – mainly groups such as Traffic, King Crimson and Jethro Tull, all with very strong jazz influences.
""All of those bands had saxophone and flute players,"" he says. ""I didn’t care about any of the rest of it that didn’t have the saxophone or flute. That was my attraction. I think my first jazz records: Roland Kirk; Sun Ra, the older recordings; Charles Lloyd; the old Chick Corea group, the Brazilian thing that they were doing; and I suppose I’d have to include Herbie Mann in there, plus the infamous Kind O’Blue album.""
At Hartt College (with Jackie McLean), Chapin says he was given essential training in the modern jazz masters, ""which is extremely beautiful and powerful music.""
After graduating, Chapin met Mario Pavone, later recording his first album, The Bell of the Heart in ‘81 for Pavone’s label.
The two have continued their musical collaboration. Currently, the Thomas Chapin Trio includes Chapin on tenor sax, with Pavone on bass and either Pheeroan ak Laff or Steve Johns on drums. The Trio’s only recording to date is included on Live at the Knitting Factory, Vol. 3, released in May ’90 on A&M Records.
""We’re working towards a real strong trio album,"" Chapin says. ""I like the openness of this kind of trio."" The group recently performed at the Newport Jazz Festival in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., and also taped a program for a Public Television series in Spain.
Chapin’s approach with the trio blends written and spontaneously composed music. The members use a sparse instrumental combination, exploring the tonal and timbral possibilities of saxophone, bass and drum combinations.
Improvisation, instead, is used to a maximum with Chapin’s other group, Machine Gun. The group, with two albums on the Manhattan-based MU record label, gets together once or twice a year for a live appearance. Chapin says he values that element of improvisation in his music.
""If I look at my life, it’s improvised in a way,"" he says. ""All my art is improvised so I try to find a less deliberate way of doing things. I do a certain amount of work. When I play, I want to play. I don’t want to play anything contrived.""
Reprinted with permission from the Hartford Advocate
%(small)All albums previously released on Knitting Factory Records are now the sole property of and available through Akasha, Inc.%"
by Gene Santoro, Daily News, January 26, 1994
"If you ride with reedman Thomas Chapin around jazz’ roomy sonic map, getting there is much more than half the fun. It’s the point.
He can play so hard it sometimes seems like his alto sax will either catch fire or leap out of his hands. Then he’ll turn around and unreel a gorgeous, glowing melody.
""There are a lot of different ways to structure your life and your music,"" says Chapin. ""Some people need to define what they are. I don’t. For me, it’s not a matter of negating things. It’s about accepting all that’s out there and selecting.
""One day last week,"" he explains, ""I worked with Mario Bauza’s Afro-Cuban Orchestra, recorded a demo tape of flamenco with a chamber ensemble for a Spanish dance company, and played Brazilian jazz with Avantango at the Nuyorican Poets Café.""
So it’s natural that this restless musical explorer is taking off in two different, if complementary, musical directions over the next few days. Tonight, he leads an edge-city trio – bassist Mario Pavone and drummer Michael Sarin – at the Knitting Factory. Next week at the Village Gate, he fronts a mainstream quartet, with pianist Allan Farnham or Pete Madsen (on different nights), bassist Kyoto Fujiwara and drummer Reggie Nicholson.
Chapin has the background to give his adventurousness real substance. After playing everything from classical and country music to R & B and rock, he got hooked on jazz as a teenager, when he heard the formidable multi-reedman Roland Kirk.
Armed with a degree in composition from Rutgers and training at the prestigious Hartt School of Music, Chapin first spread his wings with Lionel Hampton’s band, where he was music director from 1981 to 1986.
Leaving Hamp to tour with Chico Hamilton, Chapin began focusing on his own musical ideas and leading his own groups consistently in the late 1980s.
Of the trio, which began in 1989, he says: ""The situation there is very freely harmonic. It’s the place where I give my imagination free rein.""
At the Gate, his quartet will mix material from its recent fine release, ""I’ve Got Your Number"" (Arabesque Jazz), with other straightahead stuff.
""We all have multiple aspects,"" he says, ""and for me they come out in what I play."""
By Paul Acquaro
Freejazzblog.org
A few weeks ago I had a chance to catch a screening of this new documentary on saxophonist/composer Thomas Chapin. It was an early cut of the film, and about two and half hours long. Not knowing a tremendous amount about Chapin, I went in thinking that 2.5 hours on a sunny Sunday afternoon is quite a commitment ... yet as the film neared its end, I was not ready to leave, I wanted to -no, needed to - see and hear more about this tremendous musician.
Stephanie Castillo, the filmmaker, is the sister-in-law of the late Chapin, who passed away from leukemia in 1998. She turned her eye towards making a documentary on Chapin a few years ago, after not really know him when he was alive (she explained in a Q&A that she lived in Hawaii, while her sister Terri lived in New York with Chapin). What she uncovers is a rich and focused life that comes into sharp relief in light of his untimely death.
The film, using footage, photos, documents and interviews, presents Chapin's life in two parts: the first a rather chronological log of his life growing up in Connecticut, his family, his growing musical interests, and his studies at Rutger's in the early days of its renowned jazz program. The film moves on to his work as music director of the Lionel Hampton big band, the fury of his group Machine Gun, and finally the creation of the Thomas Chapin Trio with bassist Mario Pavone and drummers Steve Johns and Michael Sarin. In watching the arc of Chapin’s foreshortened career, you cannot help but see how his ambition and focus were always underscored by his humanity and genuine curiosity. It can be humbling to watch.
The second half delves into some darker topics. There is mention of a brief period of alcoholism, followed by Chapin's spiritual discovery and his creation of the group "Sprits Rebellious" - a deep dive into Latin music which is still as fresh and enjoyable today, as evidenced by the performance by guitarist Saul Rubin and bassist Arthur Kell at the film’s screening. This coincides with the success of the Thomas Chapin Trio and the brilliant string of albums on the Knitting Factory label and is explored through conversations with people who knew and worked with Chapin, including Knitting Factory Label founder Michael Dorf, Downtown Music Gallery owner Bruce Lee Gallanter, bassist Mario Pavone, guitarist Saul Rubin, Terri Castillo Chapin, and many others.
In the final stretch of the film, we are confronted by Chapin's illness, which manifests during an extensive trip to Africa. It’s hard not to be swept with emotion as you watch this man who put so much energy into his music and had so much his lust for life, be taken by cancer.
My one complaint is that I wish there was more and higher resolution video footage of Chapin at work. I suspect that when he was working at his prime in the mid-80s through the mid-90s, it was just harder and a bit more costly to do video - not everyone walked around with HD video cameras like they do now, just rampantly documenting!
Needless for me to say at this point, Night Bird Song is a moving film that will hopefully present Chapin's small but brilliant body of work to a new set of appreciative listeners.
by Larry Blumenthal,
jazz writer-historian @ http://blogs.artinfo.com/blunotes/
BLU NOTES: Larry Blumenfeld on jazz and other sounds FEBRUARY 19, 2013
The papers and memorabilia of a late and great musician provide windows through which we glimpse the inner world that gave rise to the music. While rooting around in the archives of the late saxophonist Thomas Chapin, Stephanie J. Castillo—Chapin’s sister-in-law, and an accomplished documentary filmmaker—found a folder of sheet music that was on Chapin’s stand when he died, and a draft of a letter from Chapin to the Banff Center for the Arts, concerning a position as Artistic Head of Jazz (a handwritten excerpt is above). Castillo is working on “Night Bird Song,” a documentary about Chapin’s life and legacy; there’s a Kickstarter page to support that film, which features wonderful video and audio clips.
In his letter to Banff, Chapin writes of “jazz musicians as creators of our own careers because the channels that exist are limited,” and he stresses “flexibility” and “openness.” These were not necessarily the pillars of a nascent jazz-education movement in the late 1990s. But Chapin was always ahead of the curve, not to mention above the fray. As I wrote in a recent Wall Street Journal piece on Chapin:
The standard bird’s-eye view of New York’s jazz scene in the 1980s and ’90s depicts a mainstream revival of 1960s tradition, a wild and woolly downtown, and nothing in between. The truth on the ground was more fluid. There were musicians—some experienced, others on the rise—whose deep knowledge of tradition, engaging manner, exalted skills and adventurous spirit naturally bridged such divides.
Thomas Chapin fit that bill.
But Chapin died of leukemia on Feb. 13, 1998, three weeks shy of his 41st birthday. We’ll never know quite where his music was headed. As I wrote in the Journal, the recently released three-disc set, “Never Let Me Go” (Playscape Recordings), provided telling clues—drawn from a 1995 concert at Flushing Town Hall in Queens, N.Y., and from Chapin’s final New York performance, at The Knitting Factory in December 1996. Chapin translated the essence of his celebrated trio to quartet settings. There were ambitious original compositions played in public for the first time. The final song—Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s “Lovellevelloqui”—was one of those on Chapin’s music stand at his death, according to Castillo.
There is no such thing as a typical story for a jazz musician; the music is too personal, it’s context too mutable. Even so, Chapin’s story is notably distinct. He grew up in suburban Connecticut; attended Phillips Academy, in Andover, Mass.; served as Lionel Hampton’s music director for six years; and was among the first and most original of the musicians around whom promoter Michael Dorf built a record label and touring franchise from his Lower East Side club, The Knitting Factory. The many musicians who were touched, directly and indirectly, by Chapin’s innovative stance and enveloping spirit will determine where his legacy leads. Castillo’s film promises to root out more about from whence it came.
The title of Castillo’s film, “Night Bird Song,” is drawn from a signature Thomas Chapin Trio tune, composed and arranged by Chapin and his longtime bassist, Mario Pavone. While on a midnight walk, Chapin was inspired by the striking melodic turns in a bird’s song. Castillo reminded me of something I’d written for the liner notes of Chapin’s album named for that tune (which was released shortly after his death): “the arc of his career corresponded less to common categories of ‘downtown,’ ‘mainstream’ and more to the flight paths of birds Chapin seemed to favor in song titles. With grace and individuality, Chapin took us to places—lofty and striking and sometimes dangerous—that forced a change of perspective.”
“Night Bird Song”—the film—says Castillo, will take us to some of these places and linger long enough to find meaning.
by George Lane
While all of the articles and most of the reviews I’ve done here focus on the 1920s through the 1960s, I’d like to delve into the artists I’ve heard over the past decade who, in this writer’s opinion, have held to the principles that have made Jazz such a great and special art form. In no way is this meant to be a comprehensive listing or even a real overview. It’s simply one man’s reaction to what has crossed his path in the past ten years.
One artist, who stands out as a musician who could have been one of the greatest had he not succumbed to another of Jazz’ long-standing traditions - the early departure from this planet - was the extraordinary multi-reedman/flautist/composer Thomas Chapin. I had the privilege of being friends with the man; and to know him was to love him. Not only did Thomas embody every important element of Jazz artistry - commitment, intensity, innovation, urgency, spirituality, virtuosity and vision - but his warmth, depth, intelligence, gentility and humanity made all who came in contact with him feel better about everything.
With a singular, contemporary and joyous musical vision, Thomas left behind an incredible legacy of work done over less than ten years. Whether working with his excellent trio (with bassist Mario Pavone and drummer Michael Sarin) or with his phenomenal augmented ensembles - as on the string album Haywire and the brass album Insomnia - every one of his CDs is magical and eminently worthwhile. The 8-CD box set Alive on Knitting Factory Records is an epic testimony to this very special man who succumbed to leukemia at 40 years old. Over the years, as with Booker Little, Clifford Brown and Eric Dolphy - three more gentle souls and brilliant musicians who left us much too soon - Thomas’ importance will continue to grow in his absence.
For some reason, the alto sax seems to be one of the richest veins of present-day treasure. Not only are veterans like Sonny Fortune, Gary Bartz, Jackie McLean, Oliver Lake and Roscoe Mitchell making some of today’s best music, but there’s a wealth of recent newcomers as well. Kenny Garrett has been one of the most individual and inventive soloists ever since he came to prominence in Miles Davis’ final bands. With a bold and powerful sound that seems equally influenced by Fortune and R&B great Maceo Parker, Kenny is always immensely satisfying, whether knee deep in funk or exploring the heavenly realms of the magnificent John Coltrane, as he did on his Pursuance CD.
Eric Person is another altoist who clearly adheres to the Coltrane tradition; adventurous, full-bodied and focused. In the more straight-ahead mold, Antonio Hart, Greg Abate and Abraham Burton (who I’ve heard is switching to tenor) have all impressed.
Speaking of the tenor, there has been quite a vacuum in the heavyweight horn’s history over the past thirty years, but there are signs of recovery.
Charles Gayle, a totally unpretentious, passionate and brain-scorching improviser, has been giving younger fans a taste of what the ‘60s avant-garde was really about with his big wobbling tone and passionate set-long improvisations that create a trance-like metaphysical aura of spiritual expression in the Albert Ayler/late Coltrane style. He also is an extremely interesting pianist. Ravi Coltrane is not only developing into a player of serious weight and potential, but must also be recognized for the staunch courage of taking on the instrument that his father wielded with such unprecedented power and spirit - and for sidestepping the obvious ""clone-like"" approach to pursue his own sound.
The young Cuban tenorman Tony Martinez’ CD with his group The Cuban Power, Maferefun, showed an evocative style combined with powerful rhythms and a deeply serious musical vision, and much the same can be said for the fine Puerto Rico-born saxophonist David Sanchez whose work with McCoy Tyner, Dizzy Gillespie and his own fine group shows a true commitment to the higher reaches.
Staying in the Caribbean mode, two recently popular pianists have managed to blend the rich textures and rhythms of their Afro/Latin heritages with a pure Jazz sensibility like no one before. Cuban Chucho Valdés is hardly a newcomer, having made his name initially with Irakere. However, he has recently taken the world of Jazz piano by storm. Hurricane might be a better word as his constant reminders that the piano is a percussion instrument produces blistering assaults on the keyboard. On his recent Blue Note recording, Live at the Village Vanguard, Chucho’s two-fisted playing probably should have required a piano tuner not only every day, but between tunes as well. Panamanian-born Danilo Perez has a gentler, but no less edifying approach to the piano. His tremendous Monk tribute Panamonk prompted Sonny Fortune, upon hearing that he was appearing in my hometown, to instruct ""Tell that bad boy if he gets any badder I may just have to slap him!"" When I passed the message on to Danilo, he showed the currently rare quality of humility and respect by ingenuously turning to his bass player truly stunned, saying ""Man! Sonny Fortune thinks I’m bad!"" And bad, he is.
The Sixties avant-garde tradition of pianists like Cecil Taylor, Andrew Hill and Don Pullen is being kept alive in the works of fine musicians like Andrew Bemke, Matthew Shipp and Myra Melford, and for some reason female Japanese pianists have been displaying a rather uniquely rhythmic approach, exemplified by Misako Kano and Junko Onishi, and I’ve been very impressed by a tiny powerhouse emerging from the rich music education houses of Boston (including the very special ""university"" known as George Russell), Chiharu Yamanaka.
As for the trumpet, another fine Japanese musician, Tiger Okoshi also cut his adult teeth with the legendary Russell, and Graham Haynes, son of drum master Roy, also worked in a rare small group tour with the under-recognized and profoundly influential composer/philosopher/educator/theoretician. Haynes first made a powerful impact on me over ten years ago with a stunning brass arrangement of a Hendrix tune in a concert tribute to the peerless guitar genius.
The great Philadelphia musical family, the Eubanks, have recently unleashed another excellent musician. Duane, a thoughtful and serious young man with a warm and personal sound, recognized the importance of the big band experience for trumpet excellence, has played with orchestras led by such diverse artists as Oliver Lake and Illinois Jacquet.
Duane’s older brother Robin is one of the best trombonists on the scene today. His electronic trombone experiments are not contrived simply for effect, but rather a real extension of the instrument’s tradition set forth by his personal idol and the father of modern Jazz trombone, the great J.J. Johnson. Taking a more multi-cultural approach to the instrument (along with the exotically evocative use of conch shells), Steve Turre’s music includes all of his wide range of experience with very special artists like three departed giants, Dizzy Gillespie, Lester Bowie and Tito Puente.
A virtuoso who stands above all recent players of his chosen instrument is clarinetist Don Byron. While sometimes his musical diversity may stretch a bit too thin or too far, his versatility and seemingly endless creativity evidences a link between the entirety of rich Jazz traditions and the ""downtown"" experiments of the interesting and talented composer/conceptualist/saxophonist John Zorn. Each of his live groups and recordings have a unique character and design, reflecting the eclectic tastes of their leader.
I’d be the first to admit that I am not a lover of Jazz guitar. In fact, the amount of time between the first plink of most Jazz guitar on my car radio and my pushing of another station button is even shorter than the fabled green-light horn honk of a New York cabdriver. While I love the chicken scratch funky guitar from basic James Brown or Fela Kuti to the more complex rhythms of Gary Shider and Blackbyrd McKnight with P-Funk, along with the brilliant work of Ali Farka Toure or the incomparable Jimi, the soft, compressed sound that characterizes so much Jazz guitar leaves me cold. However, the extraordinary playing of the long under-recognized Jean-Paul Bourelly is wondrous indeed. Whether stretching out on hard-blowing Jazz as he did early in his career with Elvin Jones or digging into raw blues, smoking funk or startling hip-hop, Jean-Paul is a monster. Why this extremely good looking, affable and audience thrilling musician is not a superstar is one of the more perplexing mysteries of the music business.
I also must admit to enjoying some of the work of Bill Frisell, Charlie Hunter and Mark Whitfield, especially when they‘re pushing the envelope.
Wrapping up this list is a man who I’ve only heard live once, but was impressed even more by his overall concept than by his fine playing is bassist Avishai Cohen, whose frequent focus on Middle-Eastern modalities just hits me the right way.
While I often find myself dwelling a bit on the glorious memories of the amazing New York scene of the Sixties, those who believe that Jazz is on a desperate decline would do themselves a favor to check out any of the artists mentioned above.
CD’s Recommended in the Article:
Thomas Chapin: Haywire and Insomnia (Knitting Factory Works) Tony Martinez & The Cuban Power: Maferefun (Blue Jackel) Danilo Perez: Panamonk - Impulse Chucho Valdés: Live at the Village Vanguard - Blue Note Kenny Garrett: Pursuance: The Music of John Coltrane - Warner Bros.
Other Recommended CDs:
Greg Abate: Bop Lives! (Blue Chip Jazz) Abraham Burton: The Magician (Enja) Don Byron: Music For Six Musicians (Nonesuch) Avishai Cohen: Devotion (Stretch ) Jean-Paul Bourelly: Saints & Sinners (DIW) Ravi Coltrane: Moving Pictures (RCA) Bill Frisell: Good Dog, Happy Man (Nonesuch) Charles Gayle: Consecration (Black Saint) Antonio Hart: Here I Stand (Impulse) Graham Haynes: Tones For the 21st Century (Verve) Charlie Hunter: Natty Dread (Blue Note) Myra Melford: Above Blue - The Same River, Twice (Arabesque) Junko Onishi: Fragile (Blue Note) David Sanchez: Obsession (Columbia) Matthew Shipp/Roscoe Mitchell: 2-Z (2 13 61) Steve Turre: Lotus Flower (Verve) Mark Whitfield: 7th Ave. Stroll (Verve)
by Rudie Kagie, Vrij Nederland, translated by Ineke van Doorn
"Who is familiar with the context is inclined to hear the call of death in the sizeable audio-monument in memory of sax and flute player Thomas Chapin. In his case the combination of talent, originality and an unbridled drive led to the best result of the scene surrounding the New York music lab 'The Knitting Factory.' This club acted as a starting point for an international career, but when Chapin, 40 years old, in February 1998 died from leukemia, only a relatively small group was convinced of his magnificence. He was not yet finished at all.
His fame stuck in the shadow of two jazz hero's whom he named as his most important influences. They didn't grew old either: Eric Dolphy turned thirty six, Rashaan Ronald Kirk died when he was forty-one. The three multi-instrumentalists who died too young, had more in common than an interest in different kinds of saxes and flutes. They chose free improvisation, but at the same time they stayed aware of the jazz tradition. The abstractions never became so diffuse that the listener quit in confusion. Wild outbursts usually were followed by a happy note which kept seriousness and humor in balance. This sense of perspective was typical for the contrastful character of the compositions. Musical intelligence never turned into dry intellectualism. Even when ecstasy shoot up like a missile out of the heart, the head stayed with it.
Chapin learned how music can excite an audience one year after he had finished conservatory, when he was in the big band of Lionel Hampton for six years as first alto player, flute player and musical director. ""Looking back to Hampton I see that his point is mainly the pleasure with which he communicates,"" Chapin would declare afterwards. When he left Hampton in 1989, he translated the stamping excitement which a big orchestra is able to cause into the minimal line-up of a his own trio. And he succeeded! Bassplayer Mario Pavone turned out to be a creative pal who fully understood what Chapin was after. Steven John on drums was replaced by Michael Sarin.
The group worked already well from the debut Third Force in 1992, but would gradually develop into an exceptional tight formation. The development til 1996 is easy to follow on the seven cd's which were released by the Knitting Factory. The reissue of the whole collection is completed by an eighth cd with two bonus tracks with a previous unreleased live performance from 1992 (at UC Davis, CA.)and a video of a performance at the JVC festival in 1995.
Sometimes he enriched the trio with strings, horns, the poet Vernon Frazer, or alto player John Zorn who played an important role in the history of the Knitting Factory. ""I want to give you the opposite of what you expect--maybe,"" Chapin wrote as liner notes for the compositions on the cd Haywire, some of which were influenced by cartoon music.
Widow Terri Castillo-Chapin points out in the cd booklet that few people truly knew her husband. ""He had many faces and held many contradictions in himself.... Restless, always searching."" Besides the work with the trio he developed other activities, like two conventional mainstream cds for the Arabesque label. One of those was ""You Don't Know Me,"" a title which could be interpreted as a message from Chapin to his audience.
After his death in 1998, a notice in 'De Volkskrant' showed that he had also friends in The Netherlands. Guitarist Marc van Vugt and singer Ineke van Doorn recalled the sax player who in 1996 only needed one phone call to spontaneously take a plane. He gladly wanted to cooperate in the recordings of their cd ""President for Life."" Later he came back for a tour with the quartet of van Vugt and van Doorn. ""He was more appreciated in Europe than in the U.S. where modern jazz is hard to sell,"" Ineke van Doorn says. ""Just when he was about to break through, he became ill.... When he heard that I write my own lyrics he sent me some of his compositions. Maybe I could do something with it, I had to decide for myself he said. On our newest cd his piece Hush-a-Bird is performed with a string quartet. Shortly before he died, he read my lyrics. As to his judgement about our interpretation, I will always guess."""
by Frank van Herk, De Volkskrant, June 8, 2000
"When he was forty, sax and flute player Thomas Chapin died. His recordings for Knitting Factory have now been collected on eight cd’s. With pounding rock, Asian scales en scorching outbursts by the Thomas Chapin Trio.
An early death has seldom been more tragic than that of the American sax and flute player Thomas Chapin, who succumbed to leukemia in February 1998, forty years old. The tragedy lies not only in the fact that Chapin – just like for instance Eric Dolphy, who also passed away prematurely – was a clean living, modest and amiable man, but also in the realization that he, again just like Dolphy, had just made one of the most beautiful records of his career. Chapin was still passionately developing his music. How far he had already progressed can be heard on the recordings he made for the Knitting Factory label; they have been collected in an eight-cd box set with the rather wry but, when it comes to his music, also fitting title Alive.
There are more similarities with Dolphy. Both of them played a wide range of instruments with impressive craftsmanship, not with the intent to show off, but in the service of spirituality. Both players also had a sharp ear for the music in nature and the environment; Chapin as well as Dolphy were fascinated by birdsong.
But the main connection between them was their ability to work both within and without the conventions of jazz. They were both familiar with the tradition, the blues and bebop changes, and they were both able to leave the beaten track without shaking off the listener. No matter how abstractly they sometimes played, you could always follow them, and thereby share in a blissful freedom.
The gate to jazz was opened for Chapin by flautist-saxophonist Roland Kirk, another musician who could play anything he heard, and another undogmatic spirit. Kirk heard the beauty in historic jazz, in experiments that explored the boundaries of tonality, as well as in popular dance music and exotic sounds. Just like Kirk, Chapin made room in his music for high as well as low art. He wasn’t above performing a boogie like Iddly, steaming ahead with exhilirated cries, on Third Force, the first cd in this collection. When he inserted a number like that, he knew what he was doing. After all, for six years he’d been first alto and musical director for Lionel Hampton, who could drive an audience crazy with joy with his red hot mixture of swing and rhythm & blues.
All influences, including that of Hampton, came together in his main group: the trio with Mario Pavone on double bass and initially Steve Johns and then Michael Sarin on drums, that can be heard on all of Alive’s discs. In the seven years they were together it developed into the smallest big band in jazz, with three sections operating on equal levels, that could provoke and spur each other on with riffs, countermelodies and contrasting effects. Their ego’s blended into a whole that intuitively chose the right timing and phrasing – in the exuberant swingers, the solemn, chamber music-like ballads, the capers through space when they played ‘outside’. Pavone’s ever purposeful, expressive plucking and bowing and the richly textured hues and timbres of Sarin’s percussion worked together with the creamy, robust but mellifluous sax and flute of the leader to keep things moving in every area: rhythmically, harmonically and melodically.
Not that everything depended on intuition: Chapin guided even the most reckless improvisations with memorable, richly contrasted compositions. They also provided room for anything that had moved him, such as pounding rock, African grooves, Asian scales, or the flamenco rhythm in Night Bird Song, one of his strongest and most characteristic pieces.
On two of the cd’s that have now been rereleased, he augmented the trio with brass (on Insomnia) and string players (Haywire). The arrangements he wrote for them show once again how effectively he used his material: the larger line-ups brought a wider variety of color, stronger rhythmic excitement, deeper harmonic layers and an even greater wealth of beautifully sculpted melodies. A third project, the trio with added woodwinds, had to be abandoned because of his illness.
The last studio recordings of the Thomas Chapin Trio are preserved on Sky Piece, a heartwarming document and an artistic highlight. The integration of the three voices and different styles is practically perfect. In spite of the wide range of moods, from scorching altosax outbursts to serene flute meditations, everything is well-balanced. That control, even in the midst of a musical hurricane, also typifies the live-recordings that have been added to this release as a considerable bonus, along with a a video of the trio performing Night Bird Song at the Newport Jazz festival. For fifty minutes joy, passion, creative exultation and humor come bursting out of the speakers. The spirit of Thomas Chapin is still alive."