I first met Tony Williams in the autumn of 1975 while I was a returning student to Indiana University after three years on the road with Stan Kenton’s band. My former roommate during my first stint at IU back in the spring of 1972, pianist Alan Pasqua, was now the keyboard player in Tony’s New Lifetime band. My girlfriend and I drove the considerable distance to Dayton, Ohio to hear the band play at Gilly’s jazz club. Tony was perfunctorily polite at best, but that was okay because HE WAS TONY WILLIAMS.
The next time we met was four years later down in Havana, Cuba during the “Havana Jam” event where I was playing with Weather Report while he was going to be part of the “Trio of Doom” with Jaco Pastorius and John McLaughlin. Their concert, thanks to Jaco, turned out to be an ill-fated affair. I could see how angry Tony was with Jaco on-stage during this mess of a set, but only learned much later of how truly upset Tony and John were. This ride on the bus was on the way to the airport to leave Havana, as I remember. Tony was seated behind me and Joe Zawinul. Joe introduced Tony to me, and I was not prepared for how friendly and generous Tony was to me. I’m still not sure why, but we really hit it off and Tony was always cordial and welcoming no matter where or how our paths crossed. Tony Williams was a good man.
As I wrote in my book “No Beethoven,” the “topic of drumming per se was a total conversation-stopper whenever I would chat with Tony. On a couple of occasions when I went out to see and hear Tony play, I was blown away by his drumming (of course), and felt compelled to compliment and thank him — the best way, I thought, to show my respect for him. Tony would always be warm and welcoming (we met when I had first joined Weather Report, and he was friendly and supportive towards me) whenever we would encounter each other. For whatever reason, however, his eyes would dim immediately as soon as I brought up any mention of his drumming. He simply wasn’t interested in hearing anything about that. (Matt Wilson told me a wonderful story about a friend of his who went up to Tony after a set that Tony played, and began his question to Tony with the usual “thank you for the music” expression of gratitude and respect, along with the appropriate accolades, etc., but then followed with the question “Tony, how can I play those fast tempos like you do?” Looking up in exasperation from whatever he was doing, Tony bellowed: “PRACTICE!”)
Back to my last encounter with Tony: I had read an interview with Tony in Modern Drummer magazine where he spoke at length about taking time off from drumming so that he could study musical composition and orchestration. Tony was very proud of this, and with excellent reason: his composing and orchestrating skills were in full blossom, the result of all of his earlier musical training, experiences, and recent dedication to those art forms. And so I began my conversation after his set with a comment about how inspiring it was to read that he (Tony) was so earnestly studying composition. His eyes lit up, and we got into a wonderful conversation about counterpoint, orchestration, film scores (Tony and I shared an enthusiastic appreciation for the music of Hollywood composers Max Steiner and Erich Wolfgang Korngold), etc. We were chattering away like two enthusiastic kids until I made the mistake of somehow bringing up his drumming, and he immediately got that far away look in his eyes. I excused myself to give him some between-set space and never saw him again after that.
I don’t know why Tony was like this with me; former Williams group trumpeter Wallace Roney seemed surprised when I mentioned this to him, claiming that Tony was always eager to talk drumming with other drummers. Perhaps we all seek out in others what our instincts tell us to. In any event, I do know that if Tony and I had exchanged small talk about the drums, it would have been pleasant and memorable, simply by virtue of the legend he was. But to have enjoyed his attention, speaking about matters that carried him away from the — dare I say it? — hum-drum of drumming, well, I’ll always be grateful for his confidence and enthusiasm about this other side of his artistry and humanity. Tony’s first orchestral endeavor and final album is titled Wilderness. Tony was dedicated to music, and the drumming world lost its conscience, the guiding light that was to carry us onward after Max Roach and the like. Tony was beyond genius and his drumming is beyond time.
Little-known fact: Tony was not happy with the way he played on the original Weather Report tracking sessions for Mr. Gone. According to Zawinul, Tony flew back to L.A. with his drums at his own expense and went back into the studio to play the tracks that are now heard on that album.”
I still miss him and ache at the very thought of his death. The best solace for me is to listen to him.
While looking for a photo of Tony on my computer hard drive, I came across this email snippet, something I wrote and sent to Neil Peart as we were working together on some jazz hi-hat technique (I mention this confidence because Neil spoke quite openly about our work together). A story, heard this for the first time yesterday — here in Bloomington, Indiana, back at my alma mater Indiana University, workshopping and gigging in honor of one of our professors ... anyways, colleague Alan Pasqua recounted a story about his asking Tony WIlliams to "tell some stories," and Tony said "Okay ... here's a good one. I was asked by a journalist, "Mr. Williams, you have played with three iconic musicians of our time — MIles Davis, John Coltrane and Jimi Hendrix — what quality do they have in common? And I answered, "They were not afraid to fail." Pretty great.
And that's one of the great things about you is that you are not afraid of the "fail" moment because you have learned to recognize and value those moments for what they are: a pathway towards creative freedom, a learning opportunity, or even just an affirmation that hey, we're human, and we can all only do the best that we can do. As I once said to Steve Gadd, "F*ck it, it's just another gig ..."
Pardon me for going off-topic a bit. Drumming is one big family of people AND ideas. Plus some pretty cool licks from time to time.
PETER ERSKINE
Because I dislike Top 10 lists, here are eleven Tony Williams tracks to listen to if you haven’t already … and, if you have, listen to these again.
Seven Steps to Heaven (Miles Davis - 1964)
E.S.P. (Miles Davis - 1965)
Third Floor Richard (Charles Lloyd - 1966)
Dolores (Miles Davis - 1966)
Nefertiti (Miles Davis - 1967)
Frelon brun (Miles Davis - 1968)
Stuff (Miles Davis - 1968)
Five Hundred Miles High (Stan Getz - 1972)
Joy Filled Summer (Tony Williams New Lifetime - 1976)
Warrior (Tony Williams - 1987)
Warriors (Tony Williams - 1992)
(This list does not include the Eric Dolphy album “Free,” nor Tony’s “Spring” or the first New Lifetime album, let alone “Emergency” … he left us a tremendous amount of magic and music to remember him by.)
Peter Erskine’s website https://petererskine.com/