Interview, Ron Carter shares his 'Foursight' and more!

Few names in this day ripple across the jazz pool with the magnitude of Ron Carter, the award-winning master bassist who, since his first recording session in 1960, has laid down more studio appearances than any other performer of his instrument. 

At the ripe age of 86, Carter has long been considered an artisan of his craft and maintains an active profile as a live performer, recording artist and teacher. Along with pianist Herbie Hancock, he is the last surviving member of Miles Davis' classic mid-sixties lineup (dubbed the 'Second Great Quintet'). For five years, it was in this pre-eminent outfit that the bassist cut his teeth as a daring exponent at the forefront of post-bop and modal jazz. But his influence doesn't stop there. Just trawl through the annals of any major jazz musician's discography and it won't be long before you find his name included on the liner notes (be sure to throw in his hip-hop and film score credits for good measure, too). Having encountered practically everybody in the business at some point during his illustrious career, Carter continues to expand into the present day with his sagely wisdom and traditional edge. 

Fortunately, this towering figure shows no signs of slowing in any capacity. Last October, he arrived in town for a pair of sell-out gigs at Cadogan Hall with his Foursight Quartet as part of EFG London Jazz Festival, two evenings that featured the combined talents of Renee Rosnes (piano), Jimmy Greene (tenor sax) and Payton Crossley (drums). We were lucky enough to spend some time with the great man himself, peeling back the layers of work he puts into one of his performances. As you will find out, the octogenarian bassist isn't one to romanticise the past. The recipe for the making of a legend isn't always made plain, but for Ron Carter, a strong work ethic and commitment to artistic integrity are revealed to be two ingredients more vital than anything else.

To start with, I wanted to bring up a piece I first saw online several years ago featuring you and a couple of your colleagues, all dressed to the nines. Tell us more about how you use fashion to make a statement?

That was somebody’s idea to use jazz musicians who wore nice clothes! I've always liked to look elegant. I've had guys when I was putting together certain groups, I told them to have a dark suit, a certain tie. A guy said, "I don't wear that stuff anymore." I said, "Well, you can't join this band!" It’s uncomplicated. If you see our performance, before they introduce the band, we walk out and take a bow. Before we play one note, I want the audience to see that these guys are serious. They’ve got on suits, great ties... They acknowledge us as being here, as an audience, by giving us this courtesy. I think it sets a nice tone for a level of respect that you might not get in any other ways.

Is it quite demanding for you to produce this whole stylistic package?

That's not a package, man, it's what I do! How do I say this and not sound crass? I don’t walk out in the street and not feel like I look good, whatever I’m wearing. Guys say, "Man, where you going?" I say, "I've got a meeting downtown." "Yeahhh—" "'Yeah' , but what? I should look like I just woke up?" I mean, that’s okay for you! That’s not my look, man. Looking nice is as important to me as brushing my teeth; it’s part of what I do. I've seen pictures of my earlier days, like 10, 11, wearing a nice sweater and bow tie. I was dressing well even when I was just hitting double figures - that’s how it was back in 1947! Bands always looked like that. I wasn’t part of a band, but I was always part of a mindset. I’ve always wanted to control your image of me without having to play a note. And, looking like this, I got it.

Do you reckon this formal image of jazz, the one associated with the suit and tie, could inadvertently act as a barrier to those who don't know otherwise?

You’d have to ask those people. I don’t know… I don’t really care. Whoever called me needs a bass player for this project; they thought I could make this project work. Now, they don’t care how I’m coming, if I’m in pyjamas or a smoking jacket. Not really. But, they are aware of what I bring to the date. They say that when I walk into the studio, the intensity goes up by 35%. Part of that is my presentation: I’m not late, scrambling with my instrument not in condition to play, broken or whatever it is. I’m not talking loud, I’m sober, I got a good night’s sleep… probably had a really good meal before I got there! I’m ready to go to work. "Are you guys ready?" I want that to be that vibe.

Moving onto the role of bass players, we recently lost the brilliantly versatile musician, Richard Davis. With the rich discographies you’ve both had, how does it feel when you’re asked to work with someone outside of your regular field?

When I get a call from someone who is not a member of the jazz community, my first thought is whoever chooses the personnel, they've done some research. They want to know who's the best guy to help this project get to where they think it belongs, musically. And, that means that they listen to a lot of guys, in theory. I don't know what their choice is, I just know that I got a call saying "do this record with Paul Simon" or [singer-songwriter James' sister] Kate Taylor, Q-Tip... They’ve done some research to find out that they feel I can help their project. My job is to prove them right!

How do you deal with relationships with fellow musicians, both on and off the bandstand?

Most of the time, I don’t socialise with those guys because I never see them anymore. Back then, I had no social life as I do today. I did the record, went home and took my car to the garage. I’ve done dates with guys who fool around, they're just kind of hanging on… I say, "Wait a minute, man. Let’s stop for a moment and figure out what you want to do, and I’ll try to help you do that." I’m not sure it’s a great idea to do 25 takes and just put it together. If you want your money’s worth out of me, you’d be more prepared to tell me what you think you need, rather than asking "did I hit it yet?"

It sounds like you’ve encountered these sorts of difficulties before, then. What effect do these encounters have on your flow?

It drains your energy. It’s kind of deflating that you can’t really help them because they’re asking you to, but they aren’t bringing anything to the table! So, one of the things I try to do is walk in there with the confidence that I can help these guys. Of all the choices they had, they’ve decided I'm the one who will make this project do what they hope it's going to do. I ask them for the music, to send me the track, think about what groove you want me to try to match. I try to put them on the spot, to be responsible for the information that I need to make their choice of me being there correct. Sometimes it works out really great, other times it's a fight. It's hard to fight when you’re the only bass player in the band!

Do you find it important to switch the vibe up when working with vocalists, compared to other musicians?

I've had some wonderful times with some wonderful singers, man. Mmm, mm. And, the thing with singers, it's that they trust that I'm not going to embarrass them. I'm not going to say, "Hey man, can you start singing in tune?" or, "Here’s the bridge, coming… now!" Singers generally are a little more poorly prepared, because no one helps them; they’re kind of on their own. Most of them don't take singing lessons, so they don't have that student vibe, you know? Most of them don't play good piano, so they can't really figure out where the note is in their vocal cords. I've played with some wonderful singers who had tremendous piano skills: Carmen McRae, Sarah Vaughan, Shirley Horn... They knew exactly what they wanted to sing, too. It's easy then, all you've got to do is do it. My job is to beatcha there!

That sounds more like competition than support!

No, it's necessary! They want to know that, that they feel equal to the task.

It seems that for most jazz musicians, doing what feels comfortable is not a place they want to be but, rather, they surround themselves with artists who can help push them. Do you feel the need to challenge yourself in this way?

I don't know who can't push themselves, man. Why would you want someone to help you get better if you don’t wanna get better yourself? My job is to help those other guys improve. I'm not concerned with specifically making him think he's making me better. That may be the ultimate result of the encounter, but my goal is to let this guy know, "Hey man, I'm on this, I'm all over this. Can you join me or what? Where do you stand with this, do you want it? If not, let me find somebody else. Come on, let’s get this party started!" And, once you include them, it gets really fun because now they're relaxed, they're comfortable that no one's gonna put them down.

Are you self-critical in any way?

Of course I’m critical, I’m the guy who makes all the decisions! "Is that the right note at the right time, am I playing sharp, am I low and flat, how can we fix that for the next take?" I want them to feel my self-critique, which I hope they'll feed into on their end as they watch me bring this attitude to the gig.

How much time do you spend listening to music outside of work?

That depends on how hard the gig was last night and how much I have to worry whether I played good or not. By and large, I have about a 35-minute drive from the gig to my house. Generally, that's enough time for me to gear down from the music that I've been playing for the past 90 minutes or two sets, whatever it is. I probably won't hear any music until the next day, once my ears are itched out [or until] I’ve had a chance to figure out what I could do better than last night and plan for the next night of the gig, for example. My best time for listening to music is when I'm not making gigs, because I'm like a sponge; I hear everything, all the time! And I don't want these sounds I'm hearing to interfere with my current gigs may have nothing to do with what I'm currently listening to. Between my house and going to work, I have no music at all. I don't want to hear Joe Henderson [or] Randy Weston. I don't want to hear, uh… Beethoven’s 5th! I'm my own sound. I want to trust my sense of development of an idea without having these other factors pollute the water, so to speak. On an off day, I put on Freddie Hubbard, Glenn Gould, Richard Galliano. I mean, I have a lot of choices in my house with the internet and all that kind of stuff, but I do that kind of listening when I’m not working.

You've featured on too many recordings to count - many of which are now rightly considered classics. What do you think when you see these albums reissued today, packed full to the brim with unreleased takes and other exclusive material?

I don’t know any of that information... Even today, there’s no title! Just a lead sheet with some changes or an arrangement, you know. When you talk about historical background, I had no need of it to make the music work at the time. Many of those records that we were on, a lot of them had no titles in the studio. If a guy says, "Hey man, you made this song called…", I say, "I don’t know that song at all, but I made the record." At the time, they were ‘Scene 2’ or ‘Take 1, 4, 5, 7’… so, the titles mean nothing to me, because the music was enough.

So, in all, I presume the idea of ‘legacy’ isn't something that keeps you up at night?

I don't consider that stuff at all. With me, I’m just a guy looking for the right notes, and I hit more notes right than not! My batting average is getting better as I play longer; I’m getting into the major leagues now. People spending time trying to get their place in the hierarchy of music miss the point of playing. It's to have fun, to help guys you're playing with get better because you're playing with them. I live for that! If I'm #3 on the list of guys who play good, that's their perspective of what I do. They can't hear what I'm hearing. They don't know how close I am to matching what I finally hear or what an off night I had, but I got enough right to make it work for tomorrow night. I'm not concerned about my historical location in the ‘jazz tree’. It’s people like you who are aware of those kinds of rankings; somebody's gotta do it.

I suppose you can always view someone’s life condensed into their Wikipedia entry, but it’ll never be the same as the reality. 

Or being there and watching it go down!

You can hear some of Ron Carter's finest recordings and contributions in our playlist below.