NYC Legend Paul Motian:

I’m a huge fan of the drums. I could never play ‘em well since they require not only timing (which I have), but also a somewhat mathematical sense of time (which I don’t). So long as a tune’s in 4/4 I’m okay; but once you stray from that I’m half-retarded, if not full-out. I think I ate lead paint as a kid.

Used to be I was all about the heavy-hitters on drums: Billy Cobham. Dennis Chambers. John Bonham. Elvin Jones. Guys that could really thump the funk and kick the guts out of a bass drum. And now featured on drums Smoking Joe Frazier!

When I first moved to New York I saw great drummers every week, if not 2 or 3x a week. Guys that could seriously throw down, each one better than the next, in an endless stream of different lineups and venues. 16 year old kids from The Bronx who could tear your head off and old guys from Senegal or Ivory Coast who could maintain breakneck tempos without a sweat. Everyone comes to New York if they’re a real musician.

After my first few months in the city it became apparent that drummers are a lot like football wide receivers--there’s a lot of good ones. In fact, after awhile even a moron like me began to become more discerning. More knowledgeable.

Paul Motian was a name you heard everywhere here in New York. He played with Bill Evans, Keith Jarrett, Joe Lovano, Bill Frisell (more legends than that, but you get the point). Plus he had an Electric Be-Bop Band that had a steady Monday night gig at The Village Vanguard.

When I first caught Paul it was with that electric Be Bop Band at The Vanguard. I watched that show with high expectations, but at the end could only shrug my shoulders. Paul who? I was still all about the double-bass pedal and aggressive attack; whereas this guy just laid back and kept time. Least that’s all I saw.

But that was almost a decade ago.

A few summers after that first show I was on my way home from work. It stays light out late in summer so it was perhaps 9:30 or so as I walked past The Vanguard and noted Joe Lovano, Bill Frisell, and Paul Motian on the marquee. I was tired. Alone. Somewhat sour since I’d just finished haggling a claim settlement with two Puerto Rican homos on the west side. I’ve got nothing against gays reader--I hope you know that. Or Puerto Ricans. But these guys were so gay and so Puerto Rican and such a pair of assholes! Really tried my patience. My next appointment wasn’t until 11:00 next morning, so I threw myself a reward for the shit day that had run long and said Come on, man. Lets go to The Vanguard. That’s why you live here.

It wasn’t crowded and I got a nice seat close to the stage. Could even spread my legs out a little bit which you can’t always do at The Vanguard.

Maybe it was the superior line-up, or just a better night for Paul. Maybe I was in a different place by then. Older. More New York. Whatever it was, this time around that Paul Motian...he didn’t just sound good. He sounded genius behind the kit. Now I recognized how he didn’t just bang, bang, bang, on the drums. He played them. He drew melodies out of the toms and subtle, abstract splashes of color with the cymbals. And for the first time in my life I appreciated a drummer using the brushes. Man I must have been tired!--but tired in that exalted way Kerouack talks about. To the point of clarity. To watch the man behind the drum kit--it reminded me of that line by Kate Bush. I put this moment,...here.

I put this moment,

...here.

I put this moment,

...over here.

R.I.P to New York City legend Paul Motian!!!!!



NOTE: Bottom pic of Paul Motian at Village Vanguard taken by me (but not on the day mentioned in the post). All rights reserved. Top pic stolen off Google Images.