I’ve just finished Herbie Hancock’s
autobiography ‘Possibilities’, (co-written with Lisa Dickey). It’s an interesting
book, as you would expect with someone of Hancock’s pedigree and history, and
reading it reminds you just how much music he has been involved with, some of
it groundbreaking, and all of it graced by his amazing pianism and
creativity. Hancock is one of those guys
who has been around, at the top of the jazz tree, for so long you can almost
take him for granted. But reading this book sent me back to some of the music
he’s done over the years, and it was an instructive lesson in just how great a
jazz musician he is.
In his early days with Miles and others he
demonstrated all the attributes that made him such a major figure so quickly.
He somehow combined the harmonic sophistication of Bill Evans with a swinging
right hand that rivaled Wynton Kelly’s, especially at medium tempos. He was
also a virtuoso, on a par with anybody when it came to playing fast tempos
effortlessly, and he could imbue anything with a bluesy sensibility . Very much the
complete package, these attributes and his high profile gig with Miles ensured
that he, (along with McCoy Tyner, the pianist in the other gold standard band
of the 60s), became one of the most influential pianists in jazz. In the 70s he
went on to form Headhunters, create one of the biggest selling jazz album of
all time, and pushed into the electronic world with enthusiasm and imagination.
He’s still out there, after a career of over fifty years, still playing great
and still boundlessly enthusiastic about music and excited by whatever his
latest project is.
As to the book itself, it’s very
interesting in a lot of ways and a bit puzzling in others
It’s interesting to read about his
childhood and time in college, the fact that he went there originally to study
engineering, and ended up changing his Major to music. His background in
engineering did have a lasting impact on him however, in that it drove his
fascination with music technology, which is something he’s still obsessed about
to this day, and there is much description in the book of his various encounters
with new technology, and how he would push the inventors of these technologies
to stretch the capabilities of what they could do.
He describes his racist experience with the
Chicago Symphony Orchestra as a young man, and his discovery by Donald Byrd and
subsequent move to New York in the early 60s at age twenty. His stories about
Miles and how that band began are fascinating and there is much here for anyone
interested in the gestation of this great ensemble, its psychology, development
and ultimate dissolution. He then goes on to describe the innovative
‘Mwandishi’ band, and then Headhunters and Hancock’s emergence from the limited
exposure of the jazz world into the bright lights of the pop world. I found the
whole Headhunters and Mwandishi story to be fascinating and also the
technological advances that lead to such hits as ‘Rockit’ etc. Herbie always
had a feeling for a good groove that would appeal to many people, something
proved by ‘Watermelon Man’, which was a huge hit from his first album while he
was still an acoustic jazz musician.
(Headhunters live in Germany in 1974)
This is a very honest book in lots of ways
and Hancock does not shy away from describing the lows of his life, (such as his
addiction to crack cocaine in the 90s), and the flaws in his character as he
sees them. He also is scrupulous about giving credit to people that helped him
with various things, such as his story about how Joe Zawinul gave him the key
advice on how to write for three horns that lead to the masterpiece album
‘Speak Like a Child’. In general he is self-deprecating, and someone who didn’t
know his music but had just read this book, might be forgiven for not
suspecting just what a great musician he is. In general he comes over as being
a nice guy, affable, and good with people in an everyday setting.
So these are the aspects of the book that I
found very interesting, but there are also some aspects of this book that I
find strange.
The first one is that he gives almost no
sense of what it must have been like to be a young pianist, on the scene, in
New York in the 1960s. This was in many ways a golden era for jazz and in the
early 60s you could see everyone from Louis Armstrong to Cecil Taylor in New
York – the entire past, present and future of the music all in one place at the
same time. Yet Hancock makes no real mention of the scene, of what that was
like for a young pianist. There is no mention of Monk, of Rollins, or even of
Coltrane. Trane was the other Big Beast in the world of jazz at that time and
Hancock must have seen him play, and Trane was almost certainly at some of the
Miles gigs that Hancock played at, yet there is no mention of him at all apart
from Hancock stating that he played in some clubs with Miles that Trane and
other famous musicians had played at. There is no mention of Rollins, whom
Hancock recorded with at that time, or of Ornette, or even of the great albums
of Wayne Shorter that Hancock played on at that time.
(With Miles Davis in 1967)
There is no colour in the 60s NY scene as
told by Hancock, in the way that there is colour in the NY of the 40s and 50s
as told in the Monk biography. Hancock concentrates on the Miles band and his
own recordings, and then we’re into the 70s. I felt a bit short-changed – surely
the scene there must have had an influence on him at that age, yet very little
is mentioned. A pity.
The other strange thing about this book is
Herbie’s obvious love of the showbiz life. He’s still star-struck and delighted
to be included in big awards ceremonies and being admitted to VIP areas, and
surrounded by beautiful women. One would imagine that after all these years
he’d be used to being at the top table and would have at least some feeling of
deserving to be there. But no, he’s still besotted by the glamour of high-end
celebrity and there are moments in the book when his wide-eyed delight at being
at this event, or being spoken to by that celebrity really feels strange when
you consider how great he is in his own right, and how long he’s been mixing
with these kinds of people.
An example of this comes late in the book, when Herbie is describing his surprise at winning his umpteenth Grammy, for ‘The
Joni Letters’, for which his competitors were the Foo Fighters, Amy Winehouse,
Vince Gill and Kanye West. Of this Herbie says ‘These artists made for some
rarified company, so I was happy just to have been nominated’. So, the musician
who made some of the greatest music of the 20th century with Miles
Davis, broke the mold with jazz funk and music video, had scored movies for
Antonioni and Tavernier, and was one of the world’s most influential jazz
pianists, felt lucky to have been included in a list that included a mediocrity
like Kanye West!? It’s baffling that he should a) be still so Star-struck after
so many years at the top, and b) have such a low opinion of himself and his
achievements that he should feel lucky to be included in such a list……….
This book is not anything like as good as
the aforementioned Monk biography, or of Wayne Shorter’s biography
‘Footprints’, but it is an interesting read nevertheless. And as I mentioned at
the beginning, it does send you back to the music, and when you see playing
like in the clip below it makes you glad that Herbie is still with us.
Ronan, well put! Herbie’s book reminds me of the book that Max Gordon (I loved Max, by the way) wrote about the Village Vanguard—“Live at the Village Vanguard”. Some great anecdotes, but not a lot of depth. I finished reading it and thought, “Okay, where is the real history of the Vanguard, the real shit that Max went through to keep this thing going all these years?” Herbie Hancock is one of my absolute heroes, make no mistake about that. And I was excited to read some of the parts of this book, especially things he learned from playing with Miles. But I was also dismayed at the number of times he talks about how much money he would make in a certain project. And that the guy who wrote Dolphin Dance and Speak Like a Child was thrilled to be able to stand in front of his band “like a rock star” when he had his portable keyboard. I don’t mean to judge Herbie. But it was a letdown to read some of those remarks (honestly presented, to his credit) from a guy who can still knock me out when he plays the piano. I certainly don’t begrudge him the opportunity to make a lot of money, and would hate to think that “Rockit” (something I can’t stand!) didn’t at least earn him some serious coin. But when I finished the book I came away saying, “Okay, where’s the real, deep story?”
ReplyDeleteI must admit that one sense I got from reading Herbie’s book is that he took on more and more challenges—not pigeon-holing himself into any one zone. This took guts on his part, and I admire him for that. This meant that he risked losing people (like me) who really dug his work with Miles, and his own Blue Note albums, and the Mwandishi band, and, well, whatever else I particularly dug in his oeuvre. I really admire him for that. I also admire the fact that he talks about some of his darker aspects: his relationship with his sister, his emotional reservedness, and his substance abuse. These things do help give a more rounded portrait of the man.
Ronan, I think it’s telling that the two books you cite in your article are biographies, not autobiographies (and Herbie’s book is obviously an “as told to” kind of affair). Some day I would hope that a really good writer would take on the subject of Herbie Hancock. I’d like to see a book like Dizzy’s “To Be Or Not To Bop”, where Diz talks about something, then the writer got other input from other people involved in the same incident. Or at least a real biography that goes deeper into Herbie’s life and career, and musical process. Maybe for me that was the real shortcoming. There was a time, long ago, when I wanted to be Herbie Hancock. Pianist; composer; bandleader. When I saw his book I thought I’d finally get some insight into his magic. What I got instead was a portrait of a guy who was talented, imaginative, not afraid of what others think or say and who was happy making money and being in the green room with pop stars. I’m still waiting for the real bio to come out. Or maybe, to quote Peggy Lee, “That’s all there is.”
Coda: Having said all this, when I’m on a long flight to somewhere I eat the meal, have a couple of drinks, do whatever work I have to do, get my iPod, play “Actual Proof” from Thrust, and am immediately, forever humbled. Motherfuckin’ Herbie Hancock……
Thanks Jim - I agree 100% with everything you say. It was a shame he didn't give more detail on his musical life in 60s NY, instead of spending so much time outlining the minutae of his more commercial work. But also, as you say, one just has to listen to him play to be reminded of his greatness - my current fix, post-biography, is the Plugged Nickel box set, which I have in my car right now and it's just so great. A real pinnacle of improvisation in my opinion, and of course Herbie is sui generis when he plays in this context…..
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