Interview with Ron Carter
Photo by Spencer Cole Porter.
Ron Carter is a bass player. He played in the Miles Davis Quintet from 1963 to 1968 and has won three Grammys.
Road Song
Contents
Max Raskin: How did you learn how to travel as a musician? Was there anyone who taught you?
Ron Carter: No — it was trial and error.
One of the things I learned is when the airlines stopped making it easy to travel with my instrument, my first order of business was to make sure that whoever was hiring me would meet me at the hotel upon my immediate arrival and have two basses for me to try out.
MR: Did you have any standard request of the bass you’d like to use?
RC: No. None of them will ever be like mine. I accept that they're in the condition that they're in and I make sure that when I leave this person's instrument, I have done nothing physical to alter it. What I will do is I'd clean the fingerboard off and clean off the strings and, if I can, take off one of the five pickups that they have attached to the bridge. Other than that, the same note's waiting for them to find that I'm looking every night.
MR: Before the age of phones and computers, what would you do to kill time on the road?
RC: I love to read and I'm a science fiction enthusiast. I ran across a couple of African-American writers whose work I became very fond of. And I also ran into some interesting crime procedure novels, for instance Michael Connelly. One of my favorite writers.
MR: What kind of science fiction do you like?
RC: I like the novels where they don't have five vowels as a person's name.
MR: Clifford Brown famously played chess. Do you have any hobbies like that?
RC: I'm a very good dominoes player.
MR: Where'd you learn from?
RC: My father.
MR: Would you play a lot of dominoes with your father?
RC: Yes.
MR: What did he do?
RC: He was a bus driver for 45 years.
MR: Who'd he drive for?
RC: The DSR. The Department of Street Railways in Detroit, Michigan.
MR: Would you play dominoes on the road?
RC: It depends on if someone had skill. A lot of guys on the road are interested in chess. That never interested me. I liked the group confrontation of dominoes. Smack them down on the table. That sound means you've got a head start on these guys.
MR: Of all the guys you traveled with, who was the most fun?
RC: They're all different. They all have their own social graces and social non-graces. Some like to have their solitude, some of them like the group conversations. They're all different. There's not one person.
To Pick Up the Pieces
MR: Does it get annoying, people asking you about all these giants you knew?
RC: No. I answer them faithfully and honestly. They've heard some records, they have some kind of interest in music, and I happen to be one of the people that they think may answer some questions that they have about this musician or that record date or that concert. And because they ask it, I got a gig next week.
MR: I read that you enjoy playing golf.
RC: No, no, no. Going to the driving range.
MR: And you used to do that with Miles Davis?
RC: Yes. I would go with whoever had a golf club nearby and I could go to a range and just hit some balls off the tee. But I'm not interested in walking around chasing a little white ball with a stick. No.
MR: It's a way to ruin a perfectly good walk.
RC: My friend once told me that he didn't run marathons because he didn’t want to waste his breath.
MR: Is there anything in your life that you've tried to get really good at aside from music?
RC: Max, music is so encompassing and so demanding at that level of perfection, there's not any time to find something that's equally challenging.
But I like doing jigsaw puzzles. I'm not known for being great at them, but that concept of being able to see various shapes and how they fit into another shape that's not physically related — that kind of stuff interests me. But I'm not an expert at it and I don't work toward timing myself or anything like that.
MR: Will you do a puzzle to relax? How often do you do one?
RC: It depends on when I can find a quiet time and enough open space on my table to spread pieces out between breakfast and lunch. Today is a good day in New York. They've been threatening snow in New York. The sun is shining but it is cold out. It's a good day inside for me to practice for an hour and then pull out a puzzle and see if I can fix it between now and the time I go to dinner.
MR: Do you think there's any connection between the puzzles and your music?
RC: It’s almost a direct correlation to trying to fit together my bass lines into a quintet…and it changes every night. The only difference is the puzzle stays the same. You have to have patience to find the right piece. On the gig you got to find the right piece within two choruses.
Photo by Pete Coco.
On the Sunny Side of the Street (Without Headphones)
MR: How do you listen to music when you listen to music?
RC: Right now I'm doing it on my computer because it's the first thing I have at my immediate command. There's a record player that's a little further away than my desk and the stereo system in the living room is even further away than where I'm sitting right now.
MR: When you’re walking down the street, will you listen to music on headphones?
RC: I don't trust people who walk down the street and listen to music in their headphones. They're going to get into trouble and get hurt.
MR: That's like half the population now.
RC: Yes. The other half is smart like me. We don't do that.
MR: What was the last album you listened to front to back?
RC: I haven't done that in years.
MR: Why not?
RC: Each record is a story, and I may not want to hear the complete story. Maybe I want to hear a paragraph of a book.
MR: That’s surprising to me.
RC: I'm pretty active, Max. And if I listen to a one-hour record, I could only do that one thing totally. My mind's going all the time to a lot of things and I'm comfortable that hearing a track from a record satisfies me for hearing that music.
I'm not listening for a gig; I'm not listening to hire them. I'm just looking for a reprieve from my routine for the moment. And that one track fills that space.
MR: When you listen to music, do you primarily listen to jazz or do you listen to something else?
RC: I'm a jazz person but I enjoy classical music. I enjoy listening to reggae. I like the way they record those things. It isn't the music for me sometimes. It's just the recording process that makes the music so present coming through small speakers.
Them That's Got Shall Get
MR: Eric Dolphy has a reputation for being just such a kind, sweet person. Was that your experience with him?
RC: Yes.
MR: I don’t know why my opinion matters, but I just think he's incredibly underrated.
Are there any musicians that you played with over the years that you think were really special that didn't get the kind of recognition they deserved?
RC: I think a lot of guys. The first one that comes to mind — I saw him two or three nights ago — is Houston Person. I think saxophone players have slept on his presence. And I get upset that they don't hear this guy play the saxophone. They don’t hear him play the changes and play the melody and play the rhythmal changes and know the verse and know his control and range of the saxophone. I think those saxophone players who don't know him or listen to him lose a chance to understand another point of view that's as valid as theirs.
MR: You said once that you wish you could've played with Ahmad Jamal.
RC: Yes.
MR: And I think the other person you mentioned was Ella Fitzgerald.
RC: Yes. She's a great singer. She sings great tunes, had a great tempo. It was good keys for the bass. And she seems to understand how to improvise with her voice.
MR: Did you ever meet her?
RC: No.
MR: Do people love asking you, “Did you meet so-and-so?”
RC: Yes. And I tell them yes or no.
MR: I think a lot of people would get very annoyed.
RC: Well, those people ask because they know my work. That means that they've heard me play enough different records and those people are the ones who fill the rooms I play in, and those are people who want to come see me play. So why would I not be courteous to people who are responsible for the kind and the type and the width and breadth of my gigs?
MR: There’s a lot of musicians who aren't like that.
RC: I don't know who they are and I don't care who they are. They should talk to me about that kind of vibe…how selfish that is. You know?
MR: How do you divide up your career? Do you think about it in terms of episodes?
RC: I'm still having it so I can't really tell that question yet.
MR: So it’s more like a continuous stream?
RC: From the “on your mark, get ready,” I'm right there. I'm right there now. On your mark, get ready, gig.
MR: A lot of musicians, like Miles Davis, you can say this was his bop period, this was his electric period, et cetera.
RC: He only played trumpet. I'm playing bass, man. I have a lot more opportunities to be in different environments than he does.
MR: Did Miles ever talk about who his influences were?
RC: We never talked about that, so I have no idea who he felt they were. I have no idea.
MR: It sounds like you didn't talk so much about music with him.
RC: I did not. I was the bass player in the band. I'm talking to him. Every chorus he plays, I'm talking to him. He listened to me every set I played for the next five and a half years-plus.
We had conversations but it wasn't about music. Politics. Black politics. Sports. The stock market. But music was something that we didn't talk about.
MR: When you were younger, did you ever consider yourself a radical?
RC: By whose standards?
MR: Would you have used that word to describe yourself?
RC: If you consider wanting the kids to have lunch at school because there's no food at home being radical, why does that have such a negative connotation?
Look at music. Years ago, guys who played bass like I played couldn't get a job because it was too not normal. And some of my guys came along and said, "Well, wait a minute. That's not normal for you but I'm hearing that kind of stuff. How come you keep telling me that that doesn't work? It maybe does not work for you but it works for somebody out there who will hear it."
Body and Soul
MR: Did you grow up practicing any religion?
RC: I did that as a child. I go once a week right now as it is, but I don't belong to specifically a sect that has certain rules that make the game more in your pocket, more in your neighborhood than a different kind of set of values and truths.
MR: When you were younger, in what tradition did you grow up?
RC: It's called the Church of Christ. That service was no concern of mine. I was going to church because my parents recommended it, as parents do. They were staunch members of the church. They did really great things as people in the service and I understood how that worked for them and the people around me in this community.
I didn't feel that I needed to go outside of this country framework of a religion, church, and get into something that's a little broader like Catholicism or Buddhism. I've been here for a while, and I have my way of doing things that don't need to give religion credit for making me the way I am.
MR: Do you believe in an afterlife?
RC: Yeah.
MR: Most people equivocate when I asked them that question. I think you’ve given the firmest answer of anyone I’ve interviewed.
RC: They're not playing music every night.
MR: I don't want to be a snot and ask you to elaborate on that, but could you elaborate on that?
RC: I'm playing for the spirits every night, man. Every night Bird walks across the stage, every night Miles walks across the stage. Every night my son wants to hear this music, he walks across the stage. Everyone. All my fans who are no longer here, they want to hear this music. So they're in the company I play. Absolutely.
MR: And you really feel it?
RC: Absolutely.
MR: Wow. That's so cool.
RC: How can people feel that when you leave this planet, your presence is no longer a mark on the blackboard? I have a tough time talking with those kind of people because that seems such an unrealistic way to think about that kind of hereafter conversation.
MR: Do you believe in aliens?
RC: Yes. I think we can't be the only people on this sphere. I don't say aliens per se, but I believe there's another life out there in this universe.
MR: I don't know why I'm asking you this question — it's just popping in my head. Do you like Django Reinhardt?
RC: I know who he is, but do I like him? I'm not sure. What kind of question is that? I don't know him to like him. Do I like his music?
MR: Oh, sorry, the music.
RC: Yeah, of course.
MR: I don't know why that popped up for me to ask that question.
RC: He's important in history. When I hear Jim Hall play, I heard that Django was playing with him. I hear the ghost of Django Reinhardt when I hear the playing of Russell Malone with Wes Montgomery. All those guys who are ghosts are probably the influence of Django Reinhardt. They may take it somewhere else, as they have done. But speaking of it, when you're going from here or you're going from there, you may leave the planet physically but your presence is still happening, whether you're here or not.
MR: How did COVID affect you?
RC: Maybe I can nail it down three ways. One, it forced me to sit down and look at my recorded history. I wasn't gigging and making history as I was playing. Two, it gave me a chance to really look at what kind of legacy I would leave in terms of instructional manuals for the up-and-coming bass players who want to look at history on the bass and see what I did with my book. And thirdly, it gave me a chance to just exhale and not worry about the best note I could find tomorrow.
Bye Bye Blackbird
MR: Have you ever been nervous on a gig or recording?
RC: I've always been concerned about playing my best given where things are right now. How my hands feel, how the bass sounds, the library I’m trying to play. Can I help these guys sound good?
MR: Have you ever had a panic attack or anything like that?
RC: No.
MR: No stage fright ever?
RC: I'm there because I'm supposed to be there, man. I'm not afraid of the stage. Bring it on.
MR: Did you know any musicians who had stage fright?
RC: If they did, they didn't express it to me.
MR: You said you had practiced for an hour today.
RC: Yes.
MR: What is the time in your life when you think you practiced the most?
RC: It depends on what kind of gig I'm on. I call a gig as much practice as personal, one-on-me practice. The gigs are where I get a chance to practice what I hear in my head.
An hour — it's an arbitrary period of time. I think after a while your mind stops working and you don't make practice productive.
It depends on the person's personality, their environment.
MR: Would Miles sit and practice for hours?
RC: I have no idea.
MR: Was there anyone who you knew would just sit for a long time and just hone in?
RC: I met classical guitar players who have said they have done that. But I have never talked to a jazz player who would respond positively to the way you put that question. Just sit there until they figure it out? I'm not sure that's called practice to me. But that's another topic for another time.
MR: It’s not practice, it's more like a soothing obsessive fixation or something, right?
RC: Well, unfortunately I'm sitting down so you're going over my head pretty easily. If I would stand up it'd be more difficult to go over my head with those kind of conversations.
MR: I think that you're pulling my leg.
RC: Yes.
MR: Whose presence in your life do you think is the strongest?
RC: I would not answer that question out loud.
MR: You've answered everything. You've answered very personal questions except for that.
RC: This is more personal.