Lifting Our Voices: In Praise of Thomas Chapin

Tributes from Music Community and Friends of Thomas Chapin on the occasion of his tenth year of passing, "Lift Off! Remembering Thomas Chapin" concerts in New York City, Feb. 13 and 15, 2008.

From the Voices of Musicians, Poets and Music Promoters...

John Zorn Tom Chapin was the real deal. A complete musician in every sense, he created work that was honest, imaginative, well crafted and cathartic. Putting himself into each and every note, he played with a rare and intense passion. His energy was absolutely astounding. He is sorely missed.

Bruce Lee Gallanter Thomas Chapin was one of the greatest saxists and flutists ever! I caught Thomas dozens of times and he never failed to blow his audiences away. He could swing his tush off and he could go as far out as any of the heavy spirits like Trane or Eric Dolphy. He was also a fine composer who drew from the vast history of jazz, world, rock and more outside streams and made it his own. Whether knowing him as a friend or experiencing him on stage, you knew he was an exuberant, radiant and positive spirit/force. I was truly honored to be his friend and to help him get some of the recognition he deserved. These two concerts will celebrate his life and his music. It's been ten years since his passing and it is time to remember... Thomas Chapin!

Mario Pavone His best changes playing was never captured on records, to a great degree.... When I look at it now, every solo he took was with the thought in mind that he might not be around to play another. Every solo was like two solos.... He was smart, well-informed, full of incredible energy, a virtuoso, experimenting and pushing the envelope all of the time, never letting up.... It is wonderful to honor the music and memory of Thomas Chapin... his music stands that sure test of time. I include Chapin pieces on my current concert playlist. I keep his stuff alive because it is alive.

Michael Sarin Thomas had a lot of sides that were often in conflict with one another. This made for great theater and wonderful artistic creation. I miss his laugh and curiosity about the world. I miss seeing how he would have grown musically, and I just miss Thomas. And, I wish he and my son could have met each other.

Arthur Kell Thomas believed! And, soon after meeting him, so did you. It wasn't just the vivid, ferocious energy and the feeling that he could tap a deep musical well at will; he had so much heart and soul about him. You not only walked away more convinced of the wonders of this world, you also felt the love.

James Spaulding Tom was really one of the first alto players who cited me openly in his public notes as one of the alto players by whom he was much influenced. I wore his admiration very proudly while playing my horn. Thomas was certainly most sincere with his admiration and his compliments. I believe, were Tom here, still amongst us, his musical achievements would parallel those of the most recognized of our peers.

Paul Jeffrey Thomas didn’t like to transcribe solos. I told him that was okay, because he knew the changes. I realized that Thomas could play his way, and more traditionally, so why not let him go his way? Because he was always reaching for different things, things that might not fit within the structure of the music we were playing.... I kept trying to get Thomas into Hamp’s band, but Hamp didn’t know him. When Hamp called me for one job, I said I would only take the gig if he’d also hire Thomas. The day after that gig, Hamp called and said, “That guy really can play.” Pretty soon he was Hamp’s musical director, and I got Hamp to hire the whole Rutgers sax section.... We had quite a few conversations about individuality. He always wanted to do it his way.... He was on the verge of becoming one of the leading voices on the alto. He was at the forefront on that instrument.

David CasT Playing next to Thomas Chapin in any endeavor always brought out the best musically from all involved. It was just that when Thomas was present, the music coming from his instrument of choice at any given moment, was so pure an expression that to attempt anything less by everyone around him would be a glaring insult to the music.... Thomas was a real presence, and a humble and humbling presence... a real brush with truth in this universe.

Walter Thompson He was such a very special person and a great artist! Thomas was a big supporter of my work, Soundpainting, and always encouraged me to continue its development. I think of Thomas often and remember the early days of our meeting... He would often have very constructive comments on how to codify certain gestures and concepts. He encouraged me to continue in this direction and to develop Soundpainting as far as I could take it.... I once asked Thomas, referring to a difficult section of one of my compositions, if he would be able to play it. He said, very confidently, ""I don't have any technical problems on any of my instruments, I can play anything!"" He was absolutely right - he played the passage without a flaw.... He was not only a visionary composer and performer, on many instruments, but he was also a fantastic visual artist!... The visual works he showed me focused on his layering paper materials and tearing away the layers to reveal the different levels and textures. Thomas had quite a number of these works. They were excellent!

Peggy Stern Thomas was one of the most open, most clear, and most alive, happy, and curious people I have ever met. He was a very good friend to have, and he is sorely missed.

Armen Donelian Thomas was a powerhouse of ideas and passion, and his music often gushed from him in torrents, yet he understood when and what not to play as well. His solo on my tune ""Mexico"" is a perfect example of his ability to sculpt musical architecture from the first note to the last, to build from silence into an inexorable climax, and then to recede into nothingness once again. In addition, Thomas was one of the kindest people I've ever met, and I miss him terribly.

Pablo Aslan I formed Avantango in 1994 to explore the mixture and confluence of tango and jazz, looking for a spontaneous way to play tango, no arrangements, just blowing. I received a lot of impetus from hanging out and talking to Thomas. When he discovered I played tango, he was immediately into the idea of getting together and blowing on some tangos. I wasn't about to pass up this opportunity, so I picked up the challenge and got the band together. At first we were a sextet, but over a couple of years we trickled down to the trio with Ethan Iverson. It was an unbelievably creative experience for me, one that in hindsight becomes more of a defining moment in my life and career than I [realized] at the time. Thomas' virtuoso playing, his incredible zest and enthusiasm, his sharp musicality, and his sweetness as a person were all a great part of this.

Steve Dalachinsky in the music we play this impending dance ..... dear sweet saxophonist present in the Rumi's open heart where music's ears buzz like a headswelling fever…

Thomas my thoughts are with you in this city of cities, this alternative to paradise. May you always walk peacefully through the tropics you so loved.

Michael Rabinowitz Prior to a rehearsal in our Brooklyn apartment (unlike many musicians Thomas loved to rehearse), Thomas found my two-year-old daughter's plastic Fisher-Price toy instrument set. This toy could be taken apart and reassembled into different hybrid flutes. his face was lit with boyish joy at the discovery and if I had not aksed him to take out his sax, he woujld have played with that toy all afternoon. That was Thomas.

Robert Musso He used to wear a button on his shirt pocket back then that said, “I Read”. We used to say he could read around the corner. That's how good he was. So when it came time to putting Machine Gun together, years later, he was the obvious choice. Before Machine Gun the only time that we had played together was in the jazz ensemble, which was with probably 30 or 40 musicians. He was always the lead soloist. I still miss Thomas ‘Rage” Chapin. We had so many good times together. He was unbelievable. He had so much energy!

Steve Swell As a musician, what can you say about Tom Chapin who spent his whole life playing this music with such dedication, energy and good humor? Just that he truly was one of us.

Vernon Frazer Thomas was one of the leading saxophonists of the 1980s and 1990s. I've met very few artists in any medium who shared his commitment to keeping his work fresh and original. In his time, Thomas was way ahead of the curve. In this time, people still have to catch up to him.

Ned Rothenberg Thomas remains an inspiration. Whenever I tire of the grind that the music 'biz' can throw at you, he bucks me up. Thomas paid all kinds of dues (how many years with Lionel Hampton?) but he never lost that sheer joy of musical creation. Man, he could burn it up. He looks at me from the wall of my studio and sometimes when I'm feeling creatively stuck I look over at his photo and I feel him saying – ‘come on babe, work it on out.‘

Ara Dinkjian The last time I was with Thomas, at his apartment, he played his newest recording, Sky Piece. I was overwhelmed by the music, and by the prospect of losing this friend and musician at a time when he was at a new peak (to my ears). I will never forget: he told me he treasured life. I am grateful for having had him in my life.

Brett Ryan Even though I never met Thomas, it is clear to me that there is no separation between the music he played and who he was as a person. Whenever I listen to his recordings, I feel that a radiant, humorous, passionate, and sensitive human being is right there along side me.

Ineke Van Doorn His playing impressed me a lot. My first impression was that although he was playing very free, energetic and anarchistic he was easy to follow and he never lost contact with his trio-members nor with the audience. After the concert I talked shortly with him and this was like his music: lively, open and with a lot of humour. More than two years later... Marc van Vugt and I decided to ask Thomas to play as a featured guest with our group Vandoorn.... This was more or less a spontaneous idea so we only called him three weeks before it should happen. At one way or the other it 'clicked' immediately. Thomas didn't need to hear a tape of us first and because of the narrow time schedule he bought a plane ticket himself. A written down confirmation? Nothing of this was necessary. When I asked him later if he was always so full of trust towards other people, he answered that he always followed his intuition and that this always worked. I found this quite remarkable.

Mark Feldman and Sylvie Courvoisier We were both lucky to work with Thomas a bit--Sylvie in Holland in Quartet and Duo in New York, and Mark in his Trio plus Strings and with the Walter Thompson Big Band. Thomas was a great musician who always gave 100%. I remember his positive energy. He will always be remembered and missed.

Tom Melito Thomas was exactly what you wanted in a jazz musician in that he really had his own beautiful sound, and it mirrored his personality. If you weren't lucky enough to know him, the music he left us will take you on a journey to his spirit that will leave you with a smile. Quite a feat for such a brief life…

Steven Bernstein I met Thomas in 1983... he was so advanced... ahead of all the rest of us... the first musician in ""our community"" on a jazz record (by great trumpeter Johnny Walker), first leading his own band at a jazz club (55 Bar), first to make his own cd's (on the Knit label), first to take his own band to Europe....I asked him for a LOT of advice.......and he was the first to go...... was just on tour with Mario Pavone and Mike Sarin....we talked about ""Chape"" every day....thank you for your spirit....you led the way....wish you were here today...

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From the Voices of Family and Friends…

Gilbert John Barretto In a mirror world, between fantasy and reality, Thomas found us and altered the direction of our lives. This i do believe.

Paul Mayer We still mourn our Sweet Prince of Jazz. We miss his free troubador spirit and, above all, his good heart. On this auspicious anniversary of his passage may we all be blessed tenfold by his still living music, memory and energy.

Stephanie Castillo Thomas Chapin's spirit was always vibrant, fresh and open to the new and old. I remember him with great fondness because he brought an understanding of jazz to my life – an openness to freestyle and the experimental. His genius created out of the clouds, dark and light of the soul. Moving, reshaping, every day another note, another form. Thomas? A steady, true human being whom we miss so dearly.

Terri Castillo-Chapin Thomas Chapin was not only a huge player-composer, he was a huge spirit and he touched a lot of people with his presence. Every year I see more and more just how much and I think, ""This man left behind a lot of good, a lot of good karma.""

Interview with Sue Terry

"Sweet" Sue Terry, Saxophonist, Colleague and long-time high-school friend of Thomas Chapin at Andover's Phillips Academy, MA

I was a freshman, Tom was a junior. During the first week of school, he found me in a practice room playing jazz. At the time, Hartt was primarily a Classical conservatory, and I had been accepted as an applied clarinet major. My secret agenda, however, was to play jazz saxophone and study with Jackie McLean.

I became Tom's sidekick almost immediately, and he introduced me to the ""secret"" jazz activities at Hartt, which included Paul Jeffrey's amazing ensemble. I ended up studying with Paul as well as with Jackie. But Tom was also a teacher for me. He was already playing professional gigs, composing music, and leading bands. Besides playing alto and soprano saxophones, he also played great flute. I tagged along on many of his gigs, occasionally sitting in.

One of his regular club gigs was with a Latin Jazz band called Talking Drums. At the opposite end of the musical spectrum was a group called Zasis. This was a collective, featuring Tom with Robbie Kaplan on keys, Bill Sloat on bass and Thad Wheeler on percussion. The group was unique in that all the concerts were completely improvised, from beginning to end. In addition to their regular instruments, each player had a wardrobe rack with many unusual ""instruments"" hanging from it, like keys, bells, bowls, pans, and other objects.

Tom was constantly searching for new ""instruments"" to add to his collection. We often went into antique stores (though Tom didn't care for euphemisms and referred to them as 'junk stores') and I was fascinated as he would go around tapping and striking things, auditioning them for Zasis. Most of the objects did not pass the audition. Tom was looking not just for sounds, but for sounds that had qualities such as resonance, overtones, and a compelling timbral bouquet. Sometimes, a sound was just plain funny. Tom showed me that humor is an important part of music too!

I believe there are some recordings of Zasis extant; hopefully they will be released at some point. The group made an important contribution to the lineage of free improvisation that should be documented and made accessible to others.

In the late seventies, I was a neophyte musician whose musical sensibilities were just beginning to take practical shape. Knowing Thomas Chapin at this time, as he was developing his own singular concept of playing and composing, both inspired me and expanded my mind to embrace the immense possibilities that exist in the universe of music. May the spirits bless his continuing journey.

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The 1977 photo features Sue and Thomas Chapin playing in the Hartt Concert Jazz Band led by Alexander Lepak."

Interview with Paul Jeffrey

Master Saxophonist-Composer, Educator, Teacher-Mentor-Friend to Thomas Chapin

Thomas was very advanced when I met him. He could play! He always seemed to want to play new music. Tom had a very exacting teacher in high school, James Harwood. He didn’t play jazz, but he made sure young musicians got things done. When he came to Hartt, he was just looking to play. The Miami program [where he previously studied] was emphasizing studio work, and that’s not what he wanted to do.

He didn’t really like college, and felt that it was wasting his time. He wanted to go to New York, and his parents were going to buy him an apartment. I made a deal with his parents, because he only had one year left. If he would come to Rutgers, he would be close to the city. I thought it was important for him to graduate. So he did it, along with the tenor player Jerry Weldon, who came from Indiana.

The band at Rutgers was horrible. I realized at the first rehearsal that Tom and Weldon were the only ones who could play. I told him then that I wouldn’t blame them if they went back to their original schools, but they said they’d stay. A couple of years later, the band was killin’. The school used to bring in guests artists and their bands, but the Rutgers band was so good that it always closed the show. I did it by busting chops. Saxophone rehearsal ended at 6:30, then the full band would rehearse until ten or eleven at night. The custodian would just give me the keys and tell me to lock up. Terence Blanchard, Frank Lacy, David Schumacher, Andrew Beals, Harry Pickins, Rob Bargad, Ralph Peterson were all in that band. The word became that you should go to Rutgers, and people started transferring from North Texas State.

Most college bands play two concerts a year, and just sit there rehearsing the music a whole semester. We played five or six concerts a semester, and the band had to play with visiting artists like Charlie Rouse, Dexter Gordon, Johnny Griffin, Nat Adderley, and Harold Vick. We also played the music that was really relevant, like “Giant Steps,” “Countdown” and “Spiral,” all of which I transcribed. No stage band arrangements!

We talked about how Thomas didn’t like to transcribe solos. I told him that was okay, because he knew the changes. I realized that Thomas could play his way, and more traditionally, so why not let him go his way? Because he was always reaching for different things, things that might not fit within the structure of the music we were playing.

I kept trying to get Thomas into Hamp’s band, but Hamp didn’t know him. When Hamp called me for one job, I said I would only take the gig if he’d also hire Thomas. The day after that gig, Hamp called and said, “That guy really can play.” Pretty soon he was Hamp’s musical director, and I got Hamp to hire the whole Rutgers sax section.

We had quite a few conversations about individuality. He always wanted to do it his way. I remember he got a job at the Blue Note, running the jam session. He had a percussionist and such. I would tell him to play more straight-ahead stuff, so he’d get known better; but he wouldn’t do it. So he lost the job, but ultimately he was right. It just took him a little longer to get known. He’d always do it his way, but always within the parameters of the music.

Once you heard Thomas, you knew he had the ability to go somewhere. When he was at Hartt, Lee Konitz came up to do a Workshop. He told me that Thomas was great. When I said I knew, Lee said, “No, he’s going to be one of the great ones.” He was always a little ahead of the other guys.

He was frustrated as the musical director of Hamp’s band, because Thomas had to kick the tunes off, and Hamp would always change things at the last second. That made Tom a nervous wreck, and that’s ultimately why he left.

He was a very nice, warm person. He’d always call me, even after I came to Duke, to tell me what he was doing. One time he was in Italy, about two years before he passed. I was in Venice, and heard him play, and he was really burning it up. A lot of Italian musicians who were more bebop-oriented complained that he wasn’t really playing, but I told them he was playing more than all of them. Some people weren’t ready for what he was doing. He’d bring the small band down to North Carolina to play clubs, and he’d be very self-critical.

He called before he went to Africa, and told me he was just going to look around and get with the culture. I asked him where he would stay, and he said he’d just find his way. I had a funny premonition when he said that. You get those feelings, I don’t know why. I didn’t try to talk him out of the trip, but I asked him many questions. When he came back and told me he was sick, I couldn’t believe it. But he fought right up to the end.

We had a memorial concert for him down at Duke. All of the guys who had been in the Rutgers band came down here and played. I proposed to the university that his archives be housed here, and they are. He kept detailed records, and a lot of that stuff is here. Andover, where he went to high school, has something for him, too.

His parents are gracious people. When I’d go up to Hartt to teach night classes, they’d often invite me to stay at their house, rather than go back to New York that late. They weren’t too hooked on him playing music, and probably would have preferred that he became an architect like his brother, but they were extremely supportive. Thomas was bright enough to do anything, but he wanted to play music. And he made the right choice.

I liken his wife Terri to Sue Mingus. Sue made sure that Mingus’ music kept going after he passed, and Terri’s doing the same for Tom. That’s important, because the world forgets very soon.

Interview with Mario Pavone

Bassist-Composer Extraordinaire, Colleague, Collaborator and Great Friend of Thomas Chapin

A piano-player friend said I had to hear this guy who was playing in Bushnell Park in Hartford. It was July of 1980, and a great concert – a Mingus tribute under the direction of Paul Jeffrey. Junior Cook and Bill Hardman, some local people, an interesting mix of people. And damn, every time Chaps stood up to solo he killed everybody – and he wasn't that long out of school. I said I had to meet this guy, and we went from there. Within a few months, we ended up being in each other's projects, and worked together for 18 years.

At times, it was probably a little frustrating for Thomas, because I couldn't sight-read as quickly as he wanted. But for all his training, he had the in and the out down. Bridging those gaps was one of his great contributions. He would always say, ""No matter how out a musician is, I can usually hear his sources; but I can't hear your sources."" He saw me, more or less, as something like a native folk painter, with an emphasis on time.

Thomas was the beginning of a whole pile of players who, when they see single-line music written, intuitively come up with a harmonic approach. A whole host of guys like Marty Ehrlich, Tim Berne and Tony Malaby, thanks to the studies they did have, intuit a harmonic relationship. We did play tunes at first; but when Thomas broke off from Lionel, he decided to go with an out-leaning trio, and decided I was the guy to go with.

I don't think he took any music as the ""hobby"" part of playing. He had a lot of fun with Lionel, and they played a lot of great music. During that time, his ""in the tradition"" playing took a natural turn further out. He heard what was going on around him and moved that way. He was a little frustrated with playing on changes, and when he left Hamp it was just a natural outgrowth. He did continue to play tunes, and made those records on Arabesque as well as on club gigs with me. His best changes playing was never captured on records, to a great degree.

The world music influence was him more than me. Sarin and Thomas were deeply into African and Latin music, and had all of those rhythms down. Michael Musilami and Andy Jaffe have a grant to work on Thomas' Latin tunes, and they may involve Hermeto.

Right after the first trio gig, with Pheeroan on drums, Thomas and I sat down and talked. Thomas thought that the trio had great potential, and wanted to make sure that I was up for it. We moved from Steve Johns to Michael Sarin. We had a rehearsal with Steve where Tomas brought in some new, simple structures that really applied what he learned in Hampton's big band to a trio. There were few unisons; my parts were real parts, and we were very active. I wouldn't relate it to a trio like Air, it was more like big-band trio. ""Iddly"" was his big-band theme. It was extraordinary, and it continued to build the whole time we played.

There were frustrations. We had the normal kind of gripes on drives to gigs – would we get invited to the bigger festivals or whatever. But it seemed that, every time, the wishes were answered. When I look at it now, every solo he took was with the thought in mind that he might not be around to play another. Every solo was like two solos.

He was smart, well-informed, full of incredible energy, a virtuoso, experimenting and pushing the envelope all of the time, never letting up.

I still try to perform one or two of his pieces at each gig. It's interesting how they stand the test of time. I like the idea of doing them in a piano-trio context, rather than with another horn. They're different than my pieces, but we got from each other through osmosis. I keep his stuff alive because it is alive. I have the four pieces he wrote for trio plus woodwinds, and my goal is to perform them. I've talked to Marty Ehrlich, and we will do this.

Interview with John Phillips

Music Executive-Impresario, Huge Supporter and Friend of Thomas Chapin, bringing him onto the big international world stages of jazz

"I first met Thomas pretty early on in his career, when he was a hard-drinking, hard-working musical director for Lionel Hampton who took care of the arrangements, kept the band in order, and was a lightening-fast alto player. He was certainly iconoclastic in his personal style, but his playing really made the impression. He was demonic – the level of intensity was there in his solos, even though he was using a bop vocabulary. I think his own vision came to fruition later, but he learned a lot of great and hard lessons about being a touring musician with Hamp.

Thomas was solidly in the bebop tradition at that time, so he wasn't pushing the limits that hard. It wasn't until he moved to New York and established himself here that he started pushing things.

I first heard the trio down at the Knitting Factory in '90 or '91, some time near the beginning, and my strongest impression was how powerful the music was. It had, in spades, what I look for and enjoy the most – an incredible ensemble sound, with a lot of intuitive communication among the musicians. That's what gets me highest about jazz, and it's not all that common. Kenny Garrett had a band like that once, and Jacky Terrasson; but too many other bands are just a bunch of individuals on stage.

I think Thomas had a technique - whether he developed it consciously or it just made sense intuitively I don't know - where he always took you on a journey from the accessible, normal jazz vocabulary out into something you never heard before. Then he'd bring you back. You had a ""guided"" tour. He didn't just throw you in the deep end and see if you could swim. The themes were always pretty melodic, and he'd start the journey in a harmonically standard format. Then, once he'd established something with you, he'd put it in another realm. He didn't start the car in fifth gear. There was always a logical transition in his playing, and the free playing was always in context. I consider him solidly in the tradition, right on the cutting edge but not necessarily avant-garde.

At Newport, not only was he in front of 10,000 very mainstream jazz fans, but he was also part of the PBS show. That was a kind of a roll of the dice, putting him in that slot; but, then again, it wasn't just my call. It was a body of people who felt he could succeed in that setting. I think I also took him to Japan for the first time outside the context of the Hampton band.

The basic thing [for any musician] is to show up on time and play the gig, and Thomas always did that. He was professional, not the absent-minded professor or the spacy creative type. The antic bohemian façade was masking a serious musician.

He was definitely a seeker, in his personal life as well as his music. He was looking for answers, questing in a lot of different ways, and he was a true intellectual who knew a lot about a lot of different things. He loved life and music, and I know it was hard for him to let go over those last 18 months. I remember him coming back from Africa and saying he was sick. I told him, ""Oh, you'll be alright, just go get your tests and it will be cool."" But it was not cool.

Things were going really well for him. He was growing exponentially, both in his music and his popularity. He would have been an important voice for jazz in the 21st century."

Interview with Jerry Weldon

World-Class Saxophonist, Long-time Colleague and Friend of Thomas Chapin on Hamp's bandstand and other stages

We met at school first, at Rutgers. He left in '80, I left in '81. We both were studying with Paul Jeffrey. Tom was at Hartford, I had been to Indiana briefly. Paul recruited us, separately, when he got the gig at Rutgers. We were Tom and Jerry; it was like a joke at the school. We were the only ones who could play, and Thomas was so advanced. Then a few other guys came in, and the band got a whole lot better fast. There was a guy named Adam Brenner, he joined Hamp's band later on, he got real good real fast in the Rutgers band. Dave Schumacher goes back that far, and was in Hamp's band, too. Paul eventually got Terence Blanchard, Ralph Peterson and Harry Pickens. But Thomas and I were the first two guys there.

When he left school, he went right into Hamp's band. Paul was doing some gigs with Hamp, when his teaching gig allowed, and he also sent him his students. Hamp loved Thomas, and Thomas eventually became the straw boss. When Ricky Ford's tenor chair came open, Thomas got me in the band, and we roomed together. Ultimately there was Adam and Dave, too.

He was such a unique guy, and equally great on both instruments. Most saxophone players who double are doublers; they play pretty good. But Thomas was a virtuoso on both alto sax and flute. He had the inside/outside thing too. He was as heavy on the Knitting Factory scene as the mainstream scene. He listened to everything. He loved Rahsaan, of course; and Yusef Lateef, especially his tenor playing. He loved r&b, Eddie Harris. But we listened to Trane, Dexter, Wayne Shorter. And he also had these Earl Bostic sides. He played good piano, and that wild thing, too. Just a real well-rounded musician. A lot of technically great players sounded stiff, but he was warm, he communicated to the audience.

We had some great times together. Especially with Hamp, whose thing is so out. We'd do all of George Wein's festivals in Europe each summer, and George Wein would have people travel with us. Young people, who had been on rock tours; and Hamp's shit was the most out shit [they had encountered].

Interview with James Harwood

Influential High-School Music Teacher at Andover's Phillips Academy, MA

"I was the music teacher at Phillips Andover. He came to me playing flute, and I started him playing saxophone and clarinet. He never played much clarinet, though. His interest was music generally. He was a serious classical flute player, but when he started playing sax and I got him into the jazz ensemble, he just exploded with music. He loved the challenge of playing anything, and nothing held him back. He lived, ate, slept and breathed music, and he had friends like Arthur Kell whom he worked to surpassed.

His parents wanted him to be an academic, and had no interest in him becoming a musician. But he had ways of insulating himself. He dressed like nobody else, wearing loose-fitting white clothing. He also started wearing his hair long. And he'd practice all day. Nothing else made him happy.

I was his private teacher, and challenged him to go as far as he could go. There were a lot of talented people at that school like the director Peter Sellers, who had all kinds of interests. Tommy's interest was only in music. His parents would call, very concerned, but that's what he wanted to do.

He started advancing really fast, getting into all-state competitions and such. By the end of high school, his interest in classical music was gone. He learned a lot from playing classical music, to the point where he could eat the method books for breakfast. Fun for him was transposing Charlie Parker's solos into every key. And he was always trying to find out how to make new sounds. I started him on multiphonics and circular breathing he just soaked it up.

Tommy always lived on the edge, because his soul was searching for something he could never find. Staying up all night to practice, or to listen to a bunch of Charlie Parker recordings, were just things he would do, without considering that there might be other consequences. People from other academic departments--Tommy wasn't interested, but for music rehearsals he was always involved. When someone is that devoted, you just have to let them go their way. If you sat someone like Tommy down today and tell them they HAD to study American history, they wouldn't be able to do it, and would be labeled ADD.

I went off to another life, and managed artists around the world. Tommy was one of my most talented students. He went off to the Hartt School, and his parents were still worried that he would just become an eccentric musician. Well, he did; but they started seeing that his search was to be an artist, and they let it go. I didn't get along with his parents well, because I was his music teacher. They did come to most of his performances, though.

He and I had some conversations when he was 14 or 15, because he saw that he should pay more attention to his other classes; but you could see that it wasn't going to happen.

He had an entrepreneurial spirit about him, too. He wanted to make art work.

He was obsessed with sound. He would look for anything that would make a new sound, from a piece of pipe to a new multiphonic on his horn. And, like many great artists, he loved to mix the old and the new. He'd take familiar sounds and make them unique, or play two sounds at once. And he never wanted to sound academic. He wanted to create an organic sound. Classical purity wasn't his bag. If the composers were alive, they probably would have prefereed Tommy's way, anyway.

I would play duets with him, and because I was better technically, I would play them faster. He'd come back the next week and nail it. He loved the challenge of being better. There was no ego involved; all he wanted to do was make great music.

He was so good, he was a freak of nature; but he was such a great guy that he never burned the other musicians who couldn t keep up. Tommy never did that."

Interview with Hart Day Leavitt

High-School English Teacher Who Encouraged Thomas in Music at Andover's Phillips Academy, MA

I knew Tom all through his career at Philipps Academy at Andover, Massachusetts, as a fellow jazz musician and English teacher. Always I enjoyed talking with him, and listening in awe to his playing. I'll never forget knowing him. Here are some memories:

My quartet played at Tom's 20th Reunion, and at one point he sat in for several tunes. In my band, the star is Herb Pomeroyt, one of the best jazz musicians I've ever played with or heard. When Tom finished and walked away, Herb leaned over to me and said, ""Jesus, that kid can play!""

Like me, Herb has heard all the giants of jazz, so that's high praise.

In my Senior English class, Tom was obviously not a good student, but he tried. Unfortunately, his skill as a writer was not in the same league as his skill on the horn.

At the end of the year, the faculty met for its approval of diploma candidates. Each senior's name was read by the Headmaster, and then his grades were read and when my mark of 60 was heard, I was in trouble.

One irritable, stuffy instructor turned on me and snarled, ""What do we have here…a Double Standard?!"" (Sixty, incidentally is the lowest possible passing grade, known in the trade as ""a flat 60."")

The room was silent for a moment and various teachers turned and stared at me, frowning. I was just about to answer when I saw the Headmaster looking at me, shaking his head and giving me the silence sign with his finger over his lips. Abruptly, he said, very firmly, ""Next name, please."" The Headmaster knew Tom was not very good in English so he saved me from having to make an explanation.

I was deliberately indulging in a double standard.

I could logically have flunked Tom and he would not have been allowed to graduate. I gave him a gift pass because I knew he was going to be a professional musician, and if he had no diploma he might have had trouble getting into a good college with a good music department.

In this life, sometimes a double standard is necessary and justified. (I never told Tom.) Also, I have always liked him.

Way back in my career as a teacher, a student came to call on me one day.

""Ah, Mr. Leavitt, we hear that you used to be a jazz musician, and we wonder if you would coach the school jazz band."" ""Sure, I'd like that,"" I told him, and once every two weeks I'd work with them on playing in tune, accenting the important notes, and feeling the rhythm. I got my horn working again, and now and then I'd sit in and show them some tricks of improvising.

Finally, one day, they asked if I would sit in and play some choruses in a concert before the whole school. Back in the l940s the school was run by old conservatives, most of whom thought jazz was evil music, so I decided to go in and ask the Headmaster who hired me if it would be all right to perform with the boys and their band.

The boss looked at me disapprovingly: ""Well, Hart if you want to do THAT KIND OF THING!"" So I had to refuse.

When Tom was in school, he asked me to sit in with his student band in a concert before the whole school, which I did, and got a Standing O after playing three choruses of ""Cherokee.""

The next morning, the new Headmaster called me up and said, joyfully, ""That's the best example of student-faculty relations I've ever seen."" As that famous singer said, ""The times they are a-changing."" (Bob Dylan)

Now and then, listening to Tom play with the school band, I used to criticize him for ""playing too many notes"" in his solos. I didn't bawl him out; I just said what I thought, partly because I was hearing a lot of young players who were showing off their technique.

One of my best sideman--Gary Sargent--one day said of a young jazz musician, ""Yeah, he's pretty good when he stops playing exercises.""

I sat in a couple of times in Tom's rehearsals, and one day in a chorus on ""You Take the A Train,"" I turned on the spigot and sprayed notes all over the room. When I got through, Tom leaned over: ""Too many notes Mr. Leavitt.""

At Tom's last concert at Andover, just a few years ago, I sat listening in awe at his solos: the skill, the variety, the imagination, and la forza. Then, after a tornado of notes in one up-tempo tune, he chose a lovely ballad--""I Didn't Know What Time It Was""--and played the melody absolutely straight, with a big, round, deep tone.

Afterwards I told him: ""Tom, that was great. I'll never be able to play like that.""

Immediately, he turned to me: ""Oh, but Mr. Leavitt, what you play is Beeootiful.""

He was such a warm, friendly person, and a genuine character.

Interview with Andover Classmates

excerpted from The Andover Alumni Journal, ""In Memorium,"" circa 1999

Frank Lee Tom came to Andover in fall 1971. He was my junior-year roommate in what we called ""the jungle""--Will Hall. Tom was my first friend in those dark first weeks. We couldn't have been more different: I was from a little town in Texas; he was from northern Connecticut. I loved sports; he put the word ""club"" in club soccer. His family had a rich and honored tradition at Andover; my family lore has it that my grandfather actually finished sixth grade. I couldn't work my way through ""Fur Elise""; he pounded away on that crummy, old standup piano in Will Hall until the proctors threatened to take away his privileges.

When Tom got to Andover, he was a skinny, homesick kid with a racing heart condition, who loved to play the flute and piano. By the time he graduated, he had learned all the reed instruments, practically taken up full-time residence in the music building, and was busy putting in place the elements of his life's work. While most of us live lives of quiet desperation, there was nothing quiet nor desperate in Tom's life. He found his life's calling, his life's love and threw everything he had into it.

That's what is so great about a place like Andover. Some kid like me got a first-hand lesson in seizing your life's passion and wringing out every ouce of joy. I loved everything about what Tom was, what he created, how he lived.

Tom was and always will be an inspiration to so many in our class. He was a good man, and the Class of 1975 will forever mourn his loss.

Arthur Kell Thomas was someone who took chances in life, both musically and personally. His unearthly talent and courage allowed him to fashion an extremely successful career with music that was nothing if not ""on the edge."" He pushed the limits, and, in his exuberance made much around him seem plain by comparison.

I will never forget his demonic laugh, his boundless energy, his sound...that incredible sound, on both alto and flute. But mostly, his love. He was an unerring friend. His spirit lives on in his compositions, which I and many others will perform for many years to come.

A strong 25-year friendship is hard to encapsulate. I remember getting Thomas to the Dar es Salaam airport in February 1997; he would find out within hours of returning to the U.S. that he had leukemia. We stood in the lobby and found it difficult to part. We talked and embraced and reaffirmed our friendship and love several more times, as we had countless times since we were kids at Andover.

Phil Heuber [I was] a fellow member of the Phillips Academy Jazz Band. [I recall] the high school jazz contest at Waltham High School when Thomas stole the show. He went absolutely nuts with an incredible solo during one of our tunes--I think something by Stan Kenton. I begged my way into his small group for a couple of gigs on campus. He would only let me play if I learned to read his fake book. That was great motivation fo rme to learn to read music in keys other than trombone key. We had great fun, and I was very lucky to play with Thomas and Arthur Kell in a small group.

Note Tom last performed with his trio at Andover in January 1997 in Graves Hall [just prior to his fatal trip to Africa]. Some 18 months earlier, he had helped the Class of 1975 celebrate its 20th reunion by jamming in the Stimson Hall common room with Hart Day Leavitt's jazz group late into a June evening. [Leavitt was Chapin's english teacher; see Leavitt's memories in ""Exclusive Interviews"" section.)

Assessing his talent, one jazz critic wrote that ""given his manifest passion, relative originality and comprehensive stylistic awareness. Chapin is arguably the most complete straight-ahead jazz saxophonist of his generation.""