The Humanitarian Musician

…is the title of the new book I hope to have out by January or February. But now wondering if I should add something to it. My Facebook is filled with tribute after tribute to the jazz drummer Jack DeJohnette and the sheer quantity of people telling about their encounters with this remarkable musician and beautiful human being is something I’ve never witnessed before. Many musicians and other artists have left us, but again, I’ve never seen anything approaching the number of posts I’m seeing now. It makes me wonder why.

 

The depth and breadth of his musicianship is certainly part of the story. Everyone he has played with—which included Alice Coltrane, Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Betty Carter, Michael Brecker and others— felt the music uplifted by his drumming. As one of the testimonies described his drumming: 

 

He didn’t just keep the beat — he re-imagined it. His playing bridged jazz, funk, free improvisation and world rhythms. He taught us that the drums are not just timekeepers, but colours, textures, stories.

 

His longest running engagement was with the Keith Jarrett Trio, recording some 23 albums between 1983 and 2018. When I first heard their first recording in the mid-80’s, I was hooked for life. They seemed a re-incarnation of the Bill Evans Trio with Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian, changing the traditional roles of the bass walking the beat and outlining the harmony and the drums keeping the groove to support the piano player, who held the spotlight. Instead, the interplay was more conversational, three players improvising together as three sides of the same person. In the Keith Jarrett Trio, with Gary Peacock on bass, Keith on piano and Jack on drums, the chemistry between them was remarkable, taking the concept yet further while still coming in and out of the traditional grooves. 

I remember their playing All the Things You Are on their first album Standards: Volume 1 and feeling swept up in their collective energy. As Keith ascended in his developing piano solo, I could feel the energy behind him gain momentum and volume, like an enormous wave gathering energy and finally cresting. I believe it was Jack’s drumming that propelled it all forward. 

 

All of these Facebook testimonies—and I’ve seen at least 30 or 40 since Jack passed away at the age of 83— not only comment on his stellar musicianship, but his memorable warmth, generosity and overall humanity. One of the eulogies was from a drummer named Nate Smith, who tells this story. 

 

When I first heard Jack, I immediately knew I was seeing and hearing something distinguished, his relaxed demeanor, the fluidity with which he navigated the kit, his sensitivity to everything around him on stage. When I met him offstage I was impressed by how kind and warm of soul he exuded. The light he brought to this world is forever forged in my memory.

 

Back in the spring of 2001, just a few months before I moved to New York Ciity, my drums and cymbals were stolen from my car in VA. When I arrived in New York, someone leant me some drums, but when I told him I still needed cymbals, he said, “Call Jack!” I’d met Jack a few years earlier, first at Betty Carter’s memorial and then at a Betty Carter tribute concert. When I called him, we spoke for about an hour and he played me a bunch of different cymbals (over the phone!). A  week or so later, I came home to a box of factory-fresh cymbals, literally worth thousands of dollars, left at my door. The next time I saw Jack, at a festival in Europe, I thanked him for his generosity. “You owe me $15 for shipping!” he quipped — and walked away smiling. God bless him. 

 

There you have it. A stellar musician and a stellar human being. A true humanitarian musician.The best tribute you can pay to him is listen to his music— including an album where he plays piano! Amidst the sorrow of his loss is the extraordinary gift of his legacy. If you do choose to listen, you have so much happiness ahead.

 

R.I.P. to Jack DeJohnette. May others follow your example.