George Duke: A Weaver of Dreams

The end comes eventually for us all with only the time and method to be determined. Dream Weaver is an album constructed around death, loss, healing and moving on. George Duke lost his wife, Corine, in 2011 as well as guitarist Jef Lee Johnson, and vocalist Teena Marie who passed away in 2010 as she was collaborating with Duke on a jazz album.

Despite the sense of loss and sorrow hanging over the recording, Dream Weaver is hardly a solemn affair. Duke’s trademark good humor, playfulness and finely tuned ability not to take himself too seriously, as benefits someone who played with rocker Frank Zappa, shines through.

Working with multiple players and guests, Duke’s final album is at times messy and sprawling, but Duke never allows all four wheels to leave the road. George Duke the producer was as accomplished as George Duke the musician and he was acutely aware of what his strengths and weaknesses were in both roles.

It was the old school funk of “Reach For It” and “Dukey Stick” that put Duke on the map as a solo artist and the thumpin’ “Ashtray” is a worthy callback to those days. You’ll look in vain for the name of the bassist thumbin’ out those fat licks. It’s Duke with his battery of synthesizers ripping off bass riffs that would make Bootsy Collins or his old pal, Stanley Clarke, smile with admiration.

Clarke appears here on “Stones of Orion” showing off his underrated skills on the upright bass. “Missing You” features sensitive vocals from Duke and Rachelle Ferrell. While he sought to make the object of the ballad a generic woman, it is apparent whom the warm passion in Duke’s singing is directed to. The serious intent behind “You Never Know” belies its breezy, lightweight sound, but it’s a caution to treasure every moment because you never know when there will be no more moments.

Duke’s albums are frequently saddled with a few throwaway tunes and it’s “Jazzmatazz” and “Round the Way Girl” that don’t add much to the discography, though the instrumental “Brown Sneakers” featuring Michael Manson on bass is a fine bit of fusion.

If a title like “Change the World” weren’t a dead giveaway of Duke trying for a “We Are the World” moment, the assemblage of an all-star chorus (Jeffrey Osborne, Lalah Hathaway, BeBe Winans, Freddie Jackson and more) drive the point home with sledgehammers, but sincere as it is, it still feels generic and the clunky kid vocal at the end shows a bad case of the cutes.

Teena Marie was known primarily as a blue-eyed soul singer, but her interests ranged beyond belting out R ‘n’ B and before her passing she was working with Duke on an album of jazz vocals. If “Ball & Chain” is any indication of what the finished product would have been, Marie might have been successful in the attempt. Though the amazing range she exhibited on the classic “Portuguese Love” (seek it out and find out for yourself) isn’t evident here, “Ball & Chain” demonstrates Marie had down the phrasing of a jazz singer. As a producer, Duke had the ability to bring out the particular strengths of an artist rather than apply a signature sound to them.

“Burnt Sausage Jam” is a remnant from a session with Johnson and the rhythm section of bassist Christian McBride and drummer John Roberts that is just a jam and a rather pointless one at that. It never really develops into much but drags on for 15 minutes. Originally recorded for Face the Music (BPM, 2002) it recalls the similar “Ten Mile Jog” from that album, but Duke should have trimmed it down or left it in the vault, but having done neither it’s just an overly long song and the only outright clunker.

The concluding “Happy Trails” was probably meant as a lighthearted parting gesture, but a month after the release of Dream Weaver , George Duke succumbed to chronic lymphocytic leukemia. He was 67 years old.

Whether or not there will be further unreleased material from Duke’s lengthy recording career is a question for the future. Here and now, this versatile, accomplished and celebrated artist who was equally at home playing in a myriad of styles and genres, left a rich legacy of music with Dream Weaver being a worthy coda.

Track Listing: Dream Weaver; Stones of Orion; Trippin’; Ashtray; Missing You; Transition 1; Change the World; Jazzmatazz; Round the Way Girl; Transition 2; Brown Sneakers; You Never Know; Ball & Chain; Burnt Sausage Jam; Happy Trails.

Personnel: George Duke: vocals, synthesizers, piano, rhodes, drum programming, Nord 3 synth, Arp odyssey, mini-moog, Prophet 5, synth programming, Wurlitzer electric piano, castlebar clavinet; Stanley Clarke: upright bass (2) Gordon Campbell: drums (2, 4, 5, 9, 11, 12, 15); Daniel Higgins: flute (2), tenor sax (4); Everette Harp: alto sax(2, 4, 8, 14); Kamasi Washington: tenor sax (2-4, 8, 13, 14); Gary Grant: trumpet (2, 4); Michael “Patches” Stewart: trumpet (3, 8, 13,14); Terry Dexter: background vocals (3); Lamont VanHook: background vocals(3, 5); Rashid Duke: “Ahoom” vocals (3); Erik Zobler: “Ahoom” vocals (3); Paul Jackson Jr.; guitar (4, 6); Chris Clarke: words and thangs (4); Rose Geddes: lady with a question (4); Rachelle Ferrell: vocals (5); Jef Lee Johnson: guitar (5, 9, 12, 14, 15); Larry Kimpel: bass (5); Jim Gilstrap: background vocals (5), vocals (7); Lalah Hathaway: vocals (7); Jeffrey Osbourne: (7); BeBe Winans: vocals (7); Lori Petty: vocals (7); Dira Sugandi: vocals (7); Freddie Jackson: vocals (7); Terry Dexter: vocals (7), background vocals (8); Howard Hewitt: vocals (7), Kennedy Fuseller: kid vocals (7); Michael Landau: guitar (8); Chill: rap (8); Ramon Flores: trumpet solo (8); Allen Kaplan: trombone (8); Josie James: background vocals (8); Lisa Chamblee-Hampton: around the way girl (9); Michael Manson: bass (11): Lenny Castro: percussion (11); Teena Marie: vocals (13); John Roberts: drums (14); Christian McBride: bass (14).

Record Label: Heads Up International

This review originally appeared at All About Jazz.

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George Duke: The Master of the Game

I never caught George Duke in concert.   I never met the man in person.  However, he did give me two hours of his extremely busy time to talk to me for a career-spanning interview.   What came of it was the longest interview I had ever done before, after or since and after I finished it, I never wanted to put so much work into something I got so little compensation from.  Like zero dollars and cents.

But I think George liked it too because he put a link to it on the front page of his web site and that’s an honor.

I gained a whole new appreciation of the man they called “Big Daddy.”  If you love jazz fusion (and I do because I ain’t no jazz snob) you love George Duke, who was one of the top five keyboard players of the genre along with Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Joe Zawinul and Jeff Lorber.  Where Duke ranks in that group is subject to debate.   I place him in second place behind Hancock and ahead of Corea, Zawinul and Lorber.   Others may see it differently, but hey, it’s my list and I’ll order it how I want.

I published an excerpt of the interview which can be found in full on All About Jazz, but it’s way too long to publish the entire thing on this blog.   However, I couldn’t let an opportunity pass to ask Duke what it was like playing with the notoriously short-tempered Miles Davis.

All About Jazz: Regarding “Ripple In Time,” the trumpet playing by Oscar Brashear is a shout-out to Miles Davis. You played with Miles in his final years, and nobody comes away from working with Miles without some impression: good, bad or otherwise.

George Duke: He could be extremely intimidating. Matter of fact, I was playing with Cannonball Adderley at the Beacon Theater in New York. We had finished our show and I was out front listening to John McLaughlin, and Miles came to the show.

Two fusion masters: Jean Luc-Ponty and George Duke.

He said [slips into gravelly Miles Davis voice], “Hey man, what you doin’ in this band?”

I was, like, “Damn, did I just get dissed?” I didn’t know if he was saying I wasn’t good enough to be in Cannonball’s band. I didn’t know how to take that comment.

Years later, Miles would come to my shows in New York but he wouldn’t say anything to me. A murmur would go through the audience: “Miles is in the room!”

As time went by, he’d call me on the phone and tell me he wanted me to write a tune for him. He actually asked me to join his band at one point. We were never close friends and I wasn’t in his band, but we had this weird kind of relationship especially when he was with Cicely Tyson. I’d see him all the time. He said, “George, I want you to write me a tune.”

I wrote “Backyard Ritual” and sent it over to him as a demo thinking he’d go in and re-record it live with his guys. But he said, “I like it because it sounds funny.”

I said, “Miles, that’s a demo. We’re going to come in and re-cut it.”

Miles said, “Naw, man. I like it the way it is.”

And that’s the way it came out. “Backyard Ritual” is a demo Miles played over. I never saw him in the studio.

The original song I wrote for Miles had a French-Cuban atmosphere to it. Dianne Reeves came in the studio and heard me working on it. She said, “What’s that?”

I said, “This is for Miles.”

She said, ‘Wait a minute. We’re family. I want that tune for my record.”

GeorgeDuke

I told her, “Well, you can’t have it.”

Dianne said, “We’re family. You got to tell Miles he can’t have it. Write him something else.”

I said, “He’s already heard it. You call Miles and tell him he can’t have it!” She said she was already writing a lyric for it. I told her, “You gotta stop!” Well, Dianne is my cousin so I had to call Miles tell him. I said, “Hey Miles?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that I tune I wrote for you?”

“Yeah.”

“You know my cousin, Dianne Reeves?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, can I write you another tune? She wants it for her album.”

Miles cussed me up and down. It took him about 15 minutes of swearing at me and her. “Tell that blankety-blank to get her own song!”

The song that came out of it for Dianne’s album was “Fumilayo,” and it was nominated for a Grammy. It didn’t win, but it started out as a song for Miles Davis.

AAJ: You hear these amazing stories about how intimidating Miles was and you think no way could it be true, but maybe it is.

GD: Miles was quite a character and much funnier than most people realize, especially if you were with him one-on-one—very interesting dude.

Going down the list of who Duke played with or produced includes Michael Jackson, Stanley Clarke, Sheila E., Frank Zappa, Jeffrey Osbourne, Deniece Williams,  Jean-Luc Ponty, Sonny Rollins, Cannonball Adderly, Billy Cobham,  Barry Manilow, Anita Baker,  A Taste of Honey, and on and on.   Duke liked to work as much as he liked to play and when his career cooled as a musician, he slipped effortlessly into the producer’s chair and kept pumpin’ out the hits.

I struggled with Duke’s last album, Dreamweaver.   It was dedicated to his wife, Corrine,  who passed away last year.   The album has its peaks and valleys and I struggled with writing the review.  I didn’t feel it was a great record, but I couldn’t knock the sincerity behind it.

The promotional video for the album shows a somewhat diminished Duke.  I see a man who has lost weight and wearing a hat instead of his usual Afro (possibly to cover hair loss from chemotherapy?).   Don’t know and it’s not my business anyway.   Duke cared about the music, not the trapping of stardom.  He played with giants, made hits for giants and became a giant without ever losing his humility, humanity or humor.  There’s the music he made and the many millions he reached for and turned on with the Dukey Stick.

There’s also the respect and love George Duke’s peers felt for him.

When I was growing up and learning to play guitar in Hawaii, George Duke was one of my heroes. It was a dream come true to play in his band, and I’ll always be grateful to him for his supportive attitude — and the way he pushed us all to play the best we could .

~ Charles “Icarus” Johnson, writer and blogger, Little Green Footballs and former guitarist in the George Duke Band
I can’t believe that I’m writing these words. George Duke has passed. This one is extra tough. He’d just lost his wife a year ago. George was one of those special human beings who changed the feeling of whatever room he occupied. When you were around him everything just seemed better. , lighter, more positive. Tremendous musician, incredible human being… No one who knew him will be quite the same now that he’s moved on.

~ Marcus Miller

George Duke’s talent was universal. He could adapt to all forms of jazz, pop, and rock – from Frank Zappa to Miles Davis and everything in between. He died not only of an illness but I think also of a broken heart. His wife Corrine left us last year and they were deeply in love.

~  Ramsey Lewis

Words cannot express the lost of my mentor and friend George Duke. I tried to come see you yesterday. You are now home. I love you.

~ Sheila E.

Go easy, Big Daddy.

One Year in Jazz: Nine of the Best and One of the Worst.

"Best Album of the Year? Me?"

1. Chris Standring/Blue Bolero: Playing jazz in America would serve as a great cover for someone in the witness protection program. A musician can labor at jazz for years and put together a nice body of work, but the music industry, the media, and the public may barely notice in their search for the next teenage pop star.

Chris Standring has never made an album quite like Blue Bolero. Standring could have stayed in a smooth jazz comfort zone of safe and innocuous music. Low risk can mean high reward, but Standring chose to go a different, riskier and far more ambitious route. The result is an album he should be both pleased with and proud of.

There are signature moments in a musician’s career when they make an album that both defines them and sets the course for their future. Herbie Hancock had his with Head Hunters (Columbia, 1973), Weather Report reached their summit with Heavy Weather (Columbia, 1977), and George Benson took off with Breezin’ (Warner Brothers, 1976). Whether or not Blue Bolero belongs in that kind of distinguished company is a judgment call, but it is the best album Standring has made yet.

2.  Fourplay/Let’s Touch the Sky: For Fourplay, it’s all a numbers game. 2011 marks the band’s 20th anniversary, Let’s Touch the Sky is their 12th album, and “new guy,” Chuck Loeb is both Fourplay’s third personnel change and third guitarist replacing Larry Carlton, who stepped in for Lee Ritenour in 1998.

Loeb has the advantage of appearing on several of James’ solo albums, and that familiarity serves him well, as his guitar is featured early on his own “3rd Degree.” Loeb’s style meshes well with the signature Fourplay radio friendly tunes, but his playing is noticeably funkier than Carlton, and his familiarity with James would seem to indicate his period of adjustment into this supergroup will be a relatively quick one.

Changes in personnel can be leading indicators of a band reaching the end of the line. Not this time. If anything James, Mason and East seem invigorated by their new playmate. Loeb is a perfect fit, and with his addition to the group as both a composer and player, Fourplay is well situated to continue on both artistically and commercially as a force with which to be reckoned.

3.  Stanley Clarke/The Stanley Clarke Band: Stanley Clarke is still playing the bass the way he wants to, still pulling sounds out of his assortment of electric, acoustic and Alembic basses like nobody else, and still slapping, plucking and thumbing his way through contemporary, fusion jazz, rock, funk and whatever else he puts his mind to.

Clarke, in all his improvisations and incarnations as an artist, has never distanced himself from his jazz-rock roots. “Larry Has Traveled 11 Miles and Waited a Lifetime for the Return of Vishnu’s Report,” despite its clumsy title, is a well-intentioned homage to the genre’s giants including drummer Tony Williams’ Lifetime, Weather Report, trumpeter Miles Davis and Mahavishnu Orchestra among others.

There’s a sense of closure from The Stanley Clarke Band and it’s quite deliberate. Clarke says he’s done with making electric albums for a while. Aged 59, Clarke has considerable and deserved pride in what he’s accomplished as a composer and musician and whatever direction his future endeavors take him in, his legacy is already secured. He is to the electric bass what Jimi Hendrix was to the electric guitar; an unparalleled virtuoso who sets the standard for others to follow even as they create their own legacies.

4. The Trio of Oz: The dilemma for modern jazz artists is how to grab the ears of younger audiences, while remaining respectful of the legacy of Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, and Louis Armstrong without recycling yet another variation of “So What?” The eclectic and restless musical tastes of drummer Omar Hakim and pianist Rachel Nicolazzo (aka Rachel Z) offer some mighty impressive bait to reel them in, The Trio of Oz‘s repertoire reading like an hour’s worth of college radio station programming.

Whenever jazz is in danger of becoming safe, static and scared to stray out of its comfort zone, that’s when it’s in the fast lane to becoming the Muzak for museums naysayers already claim it is. The Trio of Oz strikes that delicate balance between respecting tradition while refusing to be handcuffed by it. There’s a lot here, in one of 2010’s most brilliant debuts for both purists and pioneers to admire.

5. George Duke/Deja Vu: Duke is a proven funk master, highly successful producer, underrated pianist and masterful entertainer who, while never taking himself too seriously, never takes his jazz roots for granted, no matter how often he’s accused of abandoning them. Déjà Vu is a splendid, high energy and completely satisfying record by Duke, who has mastered the delicate art of looking back while simultaneously moving forward.

6.  Mindi Abair/In Hi-Fi Stereo: As soul music has vanished from urban radio, driven out by the predominance of rap, hip-hop and Auto Tune, it’s become harder to find real soul made with real instruments, either on record or on the airwaves.

A Mindi Abair album is not the go-to place that comes to mind for a showcase of old school soul and bluesy funk. Abair has carved out a niche as a capable, if not always inspired, smooth jazz saxophonist, cut from the cloth of her contemporaries Kenny G., Richard Elliot and others, whom occasionally dip a toe into R&B, but never totally immerse themselves in the idiom.

Once again, the danger of making assumptions is proven, because with In Hi-Fi Stereo Abair takes the plunge headfirst into the deep end of soul-infused jazz. Equal parts homage to the music of David Sanborn, Hank Crawford and The Crusaders offer a testimony of her own artistic growth. Abair makes a declarative statement that she is a formidable talent who can do far more than smooth jazz noodling.

7.  Hiromi/Place To Be: Some musicians take the tortured artist thing too far. With their on-stage, “in the zone” demeanor, some pianists look as if they’re on the verge of a heart attack. If they relaxed a bit would anyone think less of them? Hiromi Uehara is certainly a serious musician yet never leaves the impression of taking herself too seriously. She’s having too much fun for that.

Since her 2003 debut, Another Mind (Telarc), Hiromi has straddled genres of post-bop, acid jazz, and freewheeling improvisation while refusing to be neatly categorized. A leader in her own right and an accompanist,she’s proven herself to be no neophyte and for seven years through growth and development, she continues to create challenging music that is both edifying and gratifying.

8.  Sade/Soldier of Love: The best thing about Sade Adu is also the worst thing about Sade Adu: her near fanatical commitment to consistency. There’s no difference between vintage Sade and contemporary Sade. She’s the antithesis of the snowfall cliché: with Sade you always know exactly what you’re going to get.

Soldier of Love is Sade’s first album in a decade, and only the sixth by the group in 25 years. Flooding the market with material is not a crime Adu can be accused of. However, while this is a new album it’s the same sort of music Sade has been making all along.

Soldier of Love seems longer than its tidy 41 minutes. It might be because, even on the mid-tempo songs like the title track and “Babyfather,” neither Sade Adu the front woman or Sade the band swing. But then, you don’t buy a Sade album because you want to dance. You buy a Sade album because no matter how bad your day’s been, hers has been worse. A lot worse.

9.   Ronny Jordan/After 8: The ninth best album of the year was actually released in 2004, but I didn’t hear it until 2010 and since it’s my list I get to choose my own qualifying criteria.   There’s no shortage of great guitar players in jazz, but so many of them are only recycling riffs from Wes Montgomery/George Benson.   Jordan is going off in different directions as if to say, “”We’ve done that.  Let’s try this.”

 

In a field full of imitators, Jordan is an original and After 8, he goes beyond the acid-jazz/funk and just kicks back to jam.   The result is an album I listen to repeatedly and with the volume turned up high.

…and the WORST album of 2010 was…

10.  The Jazzmasters/The Jazzmasters VI: To understand why Paul Hardcastle’s latest Jazzmasters album is such a tedious drag its first necessary to understand that the multi-instrumentalist has taken an unfortunate interest in a subdivision of smooth jazz, called Chill.

Chill relies on ambient sounds, airy vocals, quietly tinkling keyboards, and the occasional alto sax bubbling away in the mix. It’s so smoothed-out and laid back that it’s nearly comatose. Chill is less ambitious than smooth jazz but not as lightweight as New Age. Take a marshmallow, pour honey over it, dip it in a sugar bowl, then swallow the gooey, gloppy mess whole in one bite. That’s Chill.

Note:  I really, really hated this album.  When I wrote my first review I just dumped all over it for the cardinal sin of being a lazy-ass waste of time.   The editor at All About Jazz rejected the review and we swapped some terse and tense e-mails back and forth over lines like this:

” This is music to peel potatoes, iron clothes and vacuüm the rug by.  This album is so devoid of an impromptu moment,  Hardcastle probably woke up one morning, sipped a cup of coffee, padded off in his slippers and robe to a home studio, banged this out in a few hours and was finished by lunch.”

“This is modern day Muzak that should be piped in the overhead speakers of upscale shopping malls and day care centers to lull unruly pre-schoolers into taking their naps.”

“Jazz” is a catch-all for various genres that are only loosely connected to each other.   Paul Hardcastle has carved out a niche for himself as a staple of the smooth jazz/Chill division, but it takes a certain presumption to proclaim oneself as a “Jazzmaster” when the music barely meets the minimum qualifications.”

I don’t usually like ripping a musician a new one, but Jazzmasters VI didn’t just bore and displease me.   It offended me on a fundamental level.  I gave in to the editor’s wish for a more diplomatic review, but I make no apologies for dogging out the record for the utter piece of shit it was.

To find the rose you gotta  risk the thorns.

Facing the Music With George Duke

The Master of the Game says, "Wassup, baby bobba?"

I’m in study mode this week for a certification test next week, so no long posts this week.   Still, I have to give  myself a little shout-out for FINALLY getting my much-delayed George Duke interview published.   It’s now available at Allaboutjazz.com and you can read it in its entirety there.   Also up on the site is my review of Duke’s latest album, Deja Vu.   Check it out.  I could use the page hits.

Some interviews are a labor of love and some are just labor.  This lengthy (over 7,000 words), far-reaching and career-spanning interview with George Duke is easily one of the longest I’ve ever done.   I’m glad it is now available.   I enjoyed it and I’ll never do it again:

Here’s an excerpt:

All About Jazz: When you were wearing your producer’s hat you still tapped into your jazz background. Nobody had heard a song like ‘Sukiyaki” with a Japanese instrument like the koto in it.

George Duke: I had worked with a group called Hiroshima and I knew June Kuramoto, who is an extraordinary koto player and could play in a pop concept. I asked her to come in and do something on the song, but it was Janice Johnson, the band’s bass player that brought the song to me. I was like, “Man, what am I going to do with ‘Sukiyaki’?’ I thought she was crazy, but I said it that’s what she wants to do, I’ll do it. We did the song and had Claire Fisher do the string arrangement and brought June in to give it a Japanese flavor. We added a R ‘n’ B section and that was it. It was a simple tune I never thought would become a hit. To this day I can’t believe it was as big a record as it was.

AAJ: Does having the kind of success as a producer of big hits like ‘Sukiyaki” and “Let’s Hear It For the Boy” begin to pull you away from your solo career?

GD: It did turn into that. The offers came in and it was very tough to turn down. During the Eighties and Nineties I would go out in the summer to something like the Montreux Festival with a band I’d put together. Otherwise, I was in the studio producing records until the bottom fell out of the industry. Those were my golden years in terms of producing because the money was there and artists were willing to try something with a “jazz artist” like me.

It was tough though for the record labels to accept black artists could sell those kind of numbers of records. With Jeffrey Osbourne and “Stay With Me” and “On the Wings of Love” or even “Sukiyaki” Janice had to force Capitol to put that record out as a single. When Stanley Clarke and I made “Sweet Baby” we believed in it but we had to get behind with our own money. We had to hire an independent publicist to support that record but once it started selling only then did Epic Records put their full weight behind it.

The pop music department said, “You guys are jazz artists.” The R ‘n’ B department said, “Nothing we can do with this.” The jazz department said, “It’s not a jazz record.” We had no choice but to step outside the system.

AAJ: I’ve read books about the recording industry and I always thought record labels were full of people who were bold thinkers trying to find and promote new and exciting music, but apparently I was wrong and there’s a lot of guys who stand in the way of creativity.

GD: I think some of the best visionaries of that time were the ones that stayed out of the way and let the artists do what they do, especially if they weren’t drugged out or crazy. That’s changed now. A lot of it is done by committee with the A&R department saying, “You’ll record this song and work with that producer” and that kind of stuff.

All the records I did with Jeffrey, Denice or Barry Manilow, I dealt directly with the artist. My relationship with the record company was strictly a legal and business one, not creative. I was the voice between the label and the artist and I translated back and forth. We’d keep them abreast of what was going on, but they weren’t telling us what to do.

AAJ: You seem to have mastered both the artistic and the business aspect of the musical industry. How did you learn to handle matters not just in the recording studio but in the suites of record companies as well?

GD: I guess I was blessed. There’s nobody that was teaching me this. To a degree it was working with Frank Zappa that had an influence on me. Watching him and how he seemed to control his own destiny influenced me quite a bit. He was the only musician I met that was that self-contained. Zappa knew as much as the engineer about the recording studio, had the business aspect together and he had to be able to play the crazy music he made.

It was always interesting to me to play that kind of stuff that wasn’t on the radio except from midnight to 5:00 a.m. on some obscure station. He had this huge audience and we could sell out places most pop artists couldn’t.

I took something from that. Something told me I should not give up my publishing rights. I’ve been asked many times to give up my songwriting rights. I’ve been told, “We want your song for Michael Jackson but you have to give up your publishing rights” and I said, “No. Uh-uh. It ain’t gonna happen.” They would say, “But your song won’t go on the record” and I’d reply, “Well then, it ain’t going.”

It takes some chutzpah to do this because I know I’m giving up money. But something told me to hold onto my rights and that extends into recording where I have my own label and control my own product.

Read the complete interview at All About Jazz.com.