"Krone" interview

Jazz pianist Gerald Clayton turns 40 years young

Already infected with jazz in the family. The famous Gerald Clayton celebrates his 40th birthday today.

(Bild: Blue Note)

He comes from a musical family, was put to the piano at an early age and learned from Billy Childs and Kenny Barron. Today, Gerald Clayton is a fixed star in the blue note firmament and is one of the most distinguished jazz pianists on the scene, seeking honest expression in every note. To mark his 40th birthday, we spoke to Clayton about the magic of music, compositional fears and collecting fog.

"Krone ":Gerald, your still current album "Bells On Sand" is now just over two years old.Looking back, how does it feel?
 GeraldClayton: I don't waste much time looking back, but I'm very happy and proud of the album because it captures a particular honesty in my life. I got to work with great musicians and in the context of the music that came before it, this album has a special place in my heart.

This was your second album on the legendary jazz label Blue Note. Is it special for you to be part of the history of this cult label?
It is an honor. I grew up with Blue Note albums and idealized the musicians who released them. Now I'm a part of it myself and that's great. We have a lot of freedom to realize our musical visions on this label as we see fit. Normally the micromanagement of record companies and their decision making is rather difficult for us artists and you are rarely lucky enough to be able to really develop. But Blue Note gives us that chance and I really appreciate that.

Would you not be able to make your music without the necessary dose of freedom and independence?
I would agree with that, yes. For me, music is always a dialog in which there is a lot of room for ideas from producers or fellow musicians. I'm absolutely fine with sharing visions and ideas, because that usually makes the result better. But it's nice when we have peace and quiet at our inner core. (laughs)

You can confidently be counted among the young scene of American and British jazz musicians who are making the genre accessible to a new generation. How do you personally see the future of jazz?
It's a bit dangerous to generalize jazz too much. You always have to think on a case-by-case basis and you'll also find many older jazz musicians who are pushing the tradition of discovery, challenge and expansion. I'm incredibly happy that I've been able to work with Charles Lloyd since 2013, because he inspires me every single day. The definition of jazz is being free and always thinking ahead. In jazz, we are a result of our influences from inside and outside. For me, it's about starting from scratch every single day and looking for something new and unprecedented. That also means embracing new technologies like electronics. I encourage people to think of music as new and fresh as possible. It serves no one if we generalize and lump jazz or music in general together. Nothing new comes out of that. Look at Mark Turner, Brad Mehldau or others - their mindset is always forward-looking. It's about the future, never about the past.

Is it important to you personally that you distance yourself as much as possible from the influence of your colleagues in the creative process and withdraw for the songwriting?
That's difficult to say. Writing music is a very mysterious process for me, where I have very little control over anything. There are times when I listen to Barry Harris all morning and then sit down to write a song. Of course, the sound is then influenced by his playing. Other days I just strum around and something comes out of it that later becomes a song. Sometimes I'm like on autopilot mode and totally distance myself from the outside world. We all hopefully serve the music in such a way that we are a kind of channel for its meaning. If we sound like our influences, that's good. If not, that's okay too. But I don't control that process. It's a bit like collecting fog. (laughs)

Do you sometimes find it difficult to compress all the many and colorful ideas in such a way that they ultimately result in a congruent sound experience?
I don't have a specific recipe for creating music. Composing is a pure mystery that happens as if by magic. I try to be kind to myself and enjoy the uncertainty and the unknown in the music. That helps a lot to let yourself fall into the music. Music is a craft. You can start your car, so to speak, but to get it to run properly you have to combine harmonies, melodies and dissonances in a certain way. For example, I start a song with a bassline or a certain rhythm and then work my way forward. Even then, you never have a guarantee that something will come out of it. Curiosity and illusion can drive you somewhere else entirely. It's best if you enjoy the process as much as possible and trust yourself.

Do you actually have a scientific, logically comprehensible approach to music or are you more someone who surrenders to the magic of creation?
Both are true. Sometimes things come about through sheer craft, sometimes it happens suddenly and you can't explain how it came about. But that's also why we love music so much and are always on the hunt to feel this energy. I don't approach music too scientifically, but I don't see myself as an exaggerated romantic either. I can just as easily sit down and practise for half an hour according to a set plan to improve my craft.

Is playing the piano pure passion for you or are there moments when you have to force yourself to play your instrument?
At this point in my life, I find the passion for playing very easy. When I was a kid and taking piano lessons, I would rather ride my bike, skate or play with my friends. I introduced clocks to cut down on practice time, but I still loved the music. I'm generally a very passionate person who can get into a lot of things. Sometimes I'm a bit distracted and prefer surfing to playing the piano, but it's good to have other hobbies. In the end, there are always too few hours in the day for me. (laughs)

Your father is bassist John Clayton, your uncle was alto saxophonist and flautist Jeff Clayton, you studied and learned with Kenny Barron and Billy Childs. With all these greats in your family and environment, it certainly wasn't easy to develop your own musical identity ...
That's partly true, but on the other hand, my family gave me incredibly great opportunities that are otherwise not so easy to find. I grew up with lots of laughter, lots of hugs and a relaxed atmosphere. Music was always important and nobody told me that I should learn something "sensible". The love in the whole scene was exuberant, which had a very strong influence on me from a young age. My parents were also sure that I would become something and supported me accordingly. That is anything but a given and was very helpful. Of course, the name carries a big shadow because there have already been successes, but we can separate that very well. My father instilled in me early on that it's all about serving the music and that everything else is not important. In this respect, I'm very good at blocking out background noise.

Do you instinctively sense when an idea you have should be pursued further and could develop into something more?
When you hear something that you like, you feel good. It's like food - you either like it or you don't. That's basically the only quality control I have. Sometimes what you write is part of a bigger vision or story - like when you're working on a movie soundtrack. But even in that bigger picture, the main thing is that you like it, otherwise you won't keep working on it. It sounds very simple, but it's not much more than that. (laughs)

Is it actually a nice feeling when you've finished an album and are waiting for the release, or does the uncertainty of starting from scratch and stepping into the unknown prevail?
I don't allow these thoughts at all. Everything exists only in the temporary moment. Every album documents a certain phase and as soon as you're done with it, you have to take the next step with an open mind. I'm not afraid of the next project, but rather excited about what comes next. I have my personal goals or dreams that scare me a little bit and haunt me, but that's part of it. The great Wayne Shorter always said, "If your dreams don't scare you, then you're not dreaming right". There's something to that. (laughs) This fear can also be healthy and exciting, it just shouldn't dominate. In music, you get used to the fact that everything is uncertain and shaky. Otherwise it wouldn't be art.

But while artists are always looking forward, fans are usually of a different mindset and love the nostalgia and the moments when they became fans of their hero. Is it sometimes difficult to deal with that?
No, we musicians have this connection to music as fans of other musicians as well. When I heard music for the first time in high school or college, it sticks with me particularly intensely. You always go back to it because you like to reminisce about your own past. It's part of being human and I can totally relate to that. I'm confident in my relationship with music and creating and have no fears. I will stumble and fall from time to time, but that's part of a long career. In the end, our music is more than we are musicians. The music survives us and that's why we should feel comfortable when we create music. That's the only way to create something that will outlast us. Music ensures that you improve and develop as a person. Just let it flow.

When you create music, do you consciously think that it will outlive you and remain important for future generations?
The term "important" is ambivalent. Who decides whether something is important and what is important? In 200 years' time, perhaps not a soul will care what I did. I simply try to serve the moment and trust that what I create honestly and authentically as art could also have added value beyond myself. No one knows how long something will remain relevant, but the thought of it enduring is fascinating. There are so many writers, musicians and philosophers who have been ignored or even killed for their thoughts throughout their lives and hundreds of years later they are seen as geniuses. Who knows what is in store for us and our art?