AN
OPEN LETTER TO STEF-ON
I do not have your email
address and cannot find a specific web site for you
http://www.stefonharris.com says
reserved for the future.
The message I would like to relay is this:
I loved everything you said in your Border's interview...I finally found
someone else who truly understands the music-physics thing and sounds as crazy
as me when trying to describe the phenomena! Wouldn't you know it would
be someone who chooses to play vibes and marimbas, and would dedicate the
project to Milt Jackson? Total agreement with what you said about kids
being exposed to violence and redeemed through music or at least "forced
to draw on a different side of their personalities, which they may not even
realize existed”. It is cool that
zin-zang hope is everywhere.
Peace and happy "big 3-oh
yes" bday to you soon. Becky
STEFON'S VIBE -- Stefon Harris says that when the
Troy Music Hall in New York offered to commission a new work from him, he
hadn't been focusing on the musical side of his life. In fact, he says he was
more engrossed in such seemingly disparate disciplines as physics, poetry, and
Spanish, but he was actively seeking a conduit with which to channel his many
interests. Dedicated to the late Milt Jackson, The Grand Unification
Theory provides just that, as the young vibraphone and marimba master
skillfully guides an agile 12-member ensemble. In this interview,
Harris discusses his magnum opus.
Grand Unification
Theory
Stefon
Harris
The jazz world finds itself hooked on Harris, too, the 29-year old's
recordings consistently turning the heads of critics and devotees. Commissioned
by the Troy Music Hall, he led a 12-member ensemble into the studio for his
latest composition, an exploration of some heady subject matter: The Grand
Unification Theory. The title derives from a concept in physics that
postulates links between gravity, electromagnetic energy, strong nuclear
energy, and weak nuclear energy. "Physicists believe that if they can find
some connection between all these forces, they'll have the answers to our
creation and our history," he says.
Stefon Harris: At the time I was offered the commission, I was
studying a variety of subjects besides music: physics, poetry, Spanish. I have
very eclectic interests. At first, I was thinking about not taking it because I
hadn't been focusing much on music. But then I came across this theory in
quantum physics, which basically says that, for example, gravity and
electromagnetic energy are the same force; they just appear to be different at
different energy levels. I found that to be a very spiritual concept. So I
started to apply that to my own situation—studying Spanish and physics and all
these different subjects—and I tried to find the way to bring all of those
things together so that they could be expressed through one idiom. And that
idiom is music, of course. It made a lot of sense to see things in a more
holistic manner.
There's an Einstein quote: "All religions, arts, and sciences are
branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling
the man's life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and
leading the individual toward freedom."
What's better: the composing or the improvising?
SH: Hey, that's a good question. I don't know if I can compare the
two. Philosophically, I look at them as the same. Composition is a slower form
of improvisation. I've had moments where it's so clear that the music is
revealed to you when you're on the bandstand. You don't have to think of
something you're going to play; when you're hot and everything is on, you can
hear exactly where you want the music to get louder, exactly what harmonic
things to do. You want to think as little as possible [Laughing.] and become a
vehicle for the music.
Generally when composing, I'm out of bed first thing in the morning and go
right to my piano. My mind is at its freshest. The first two minutes will tell
me if something's going to come out or not. But for The Grand Unification
Theory, I was striving to unify all these various interests in my life. I
would pick a topic and meditate on that topic, sit at the piano and wouldn't
play, try to get myself in that mood. I focused on visual things—dance
movements—and tried to capture them sonically as well as emotionally.
When you're just observing everyday life—say, a car drives down the
street or the wind rustles a tree—is that an inspiration for the way you write
music?
SH: I actually practice things like that. I'll go to a crowded
environment and I'll sit and listen to the various things that are going on
around me and try to absorb all of them, and try to maintain clarity of all of
them. If I'm sitting in a park and someone's having a conversation behind me,
I'm trying to listen to that conversation and understand what they're saying.
And then, as a bus goes by, I'm hearing the sound of that bus traveling and I'm
trying to focus on that and maintain the content of the conversation behind me
as a new element is introduced. What that does for me is heighten my sense of
awareness so that when I go up on the bandstand, I can keep track of all the
things that are happening. I'm hearing so much detail now because I focused on
listening. Jazz to me is one of the greatest examples of democracy. In my
quartet there'll be four individuals of different religious and socio/economic
backgrounds, and all of that is totally irrelevant. Everyone brings something
to the table; we trust one another and respect one another so that, if someone
makes a statement that's a little different, we don't walk away. We all take
that leap of faith with them and go in that direction.
Why did you stick with vibraphone and marimba as opposed to the many
other instruments you've tried?
SH: Instruments aren't that important to me. Ultimately, it's the
story that you have to tell, and as you're playing one instrument or another it
may highlight different sides of your personality. Like if you're a very
center-of-attention type, you might play trumpet because it's a more vociferous
instrument. I tend to be more subtle and the vibraphone ended up being
appropriate for my personality. I'm very energetic but it's not that I want to
be loud and the center of attention all the time. The vibraphone can give you
that because it has the percussive side but then it's such a beautiful, warm,
almost glassy-sounding instrument. If you play it the right way, it creates
this warm blanket of sound around the entire ensemble.
When you're playing, and especially when you're improvising, are you
speaking to yourself or to people who are listening? In other words, when
you're striking the bars with your mallets, are you hearing words in your mind
that tell a story?
SH: Absolutely. One of the most essential parts of music for me, is
it's the art of communication. You're not necessarily communicating in a verbal
language but, ultimately, the goal is to take something from within yourself
and have that communicated to the audience. So I'm thinking in terms of
communication. When I'm playing, if people look closely they'll notice a lot of
times I'm mouthing sentences except I'm taking the words away. So I'm taking
the rhythmic cadence of the English language because that's the language I
speak most comfortably [Laughing.] and I'm using those rhythms because I think
we use all the elements of music when we're speaking to one another. My whole
approach to music is very natural [Laughing]. Even when I'm teaching music, I
don't think it's my responsibility to teach someone something; my
responsibility is to help them realize what they already have.
How has your relationship with jazz changed over the years, especially as
you've become a bandleader yourself? Is it still the same liberating experience
as when you first began?
SH: My relationship with jazz has changed. It's gotten back to the initial
impact it had on me. It's like this cycle in life; the older I get,
psychologically the closer I get to the way I thought when I was a child. My
introduction to jazz was that I heard liberation; I heard the individuality of
a Charlie Parker. I was fascinated with that. But then, when I began to study
in college, and they're telling me that I have to learn someone else's style
and have to play bebop, I sort of lost some of myself in jazz. All through
college, I was writing my own music and kept doing my own thing but after I got
out of school and had a record contract and my own band, I was able to refocus.
Jazz took on a far greater meaning for me, apart from studying the history of
it and recreating sounds from the past. It is a representation of my inner
spirit.
Many musicians talk about the similarities between sports and music. Are
you a sports fan, and do you see the connection between what athletes are doing
and what you and your colleagues are doing on stage or in a recording studio?
SH: [Laughing.] Absolutely. Boxing is my favorite sport so I don't
want to see too many similarities between boxing and music. We don't want to
beat each other up. But I'm a big New Jersey Nets fan. You look at Jason Kidd
and, without even looking, he knows exactly where his teammates are going to be
and can get the basketball to them. It’s truly a collective effect. I see a lot
of very direct connections.
I used to be a wrestler myself so I'm really into watching people who have
great instincts. It's amazing to me that someone can see something coming that
fast, get out of the way, and respond at the same time. That type of intellect
is very impressive, something that's important in jazz. It's a team effort on
the bandstand; you're sharing the ideas, you're passing the ball. My name may
be on the marquee but there are thousands of decisions made in an hour when
you're on the bandstand and I'm certainly making less than 50% of those
decisions. I've realized that the overall output is going to be far greater if
you can utilize the strengths of everyone around you, as opposed to having a
band where it's my band and I'm going to do things exactly the way I
want them. With my ensembles, you are hearing me but you're also hearing
several other individuals; you're hearing how all of these people interact.
It's truly a democracy.
You've also played on several classical recordings. Do you have a
favorite composer?
SH: My favorite has always been Stravinsky. He's so colorful and able
to change moods at the drop of a dime. He can take you from the most intense
feeling to the gentlest feeling in a matter of five seconds and you don't
notice that it's different. [Laughing.] That's magical. I like to look at
musicians as emotional engineers. That's something that I aspire to, to be able
to play a piece like "Rebirth," on The Grand Unification Theory
and have people understand it without words, understand it in their own way but
to be with you on the edge of their seats. You're almost controlling them, even
though it's not you; it's the music.
What do you think music does for an average listener—for people who
aren't in the business of making music? What does music do for you?
SH: It's kind of complicated because I'm reaching a point where I've
been able to be more of a listener to jazz. Most of the years I've been
studying. Every day I had to practice, had to listen, wanted to learn more and
more. But I found that I was such an active listener that I was always
listening for, "Oh, what is that? Maybe I can utilize that.'" I think
the experience for me may be different. For someone who doesn't hear those
types of intricate details it could mean anything. The best compliment that I
ever got was from a woman who had had brain surgery and the doctors said that
she needed to go in for another; she had a 50/50 chance of making it. She was
at one of my shows and heard a song I wrote called "After the Day is
Done." She came up to me after the concert and said, "Can I get a
recording of this? I'm allowed to listen to music as they're wheeling me into
the operating room and that's the piece of music I'd like to hear."
What it meant for that woman, I can only speculate. But as for what it can
do for kids… I think we miss the mark in the arts community because we're so
focused on creating audiences, or creating musicians. The real gift that art
gives us is self-realization, especially in tougher environments where kids are
growing up; they're exposed to so much violence. They may grow up in a
situation where they're forced to be tough. You have to be callous to survive
that atmosphere, and spend the bulk of your time carrying that attitude. Then
you pick up a clarinet or a violin and play "Adagio for Strings" by
Samuel Barber. This is a piece that is so gentle, so elegant and has moments
where the music absolutely dwindles away to absolute silence. That's going to
force kids to draw on a different side of their personalities, which they may
not even realize existed. I think music actually makes better doctors and
lawyers, because, in the end, you have a better idea of who you are.
[Laughing.] It's not about, "I should be a doctor," or "I should
be a lawyer." You discover your passion and what's most natural for
you—not to mention learning how to communicate. When you get into jazz and have
such freedom in your individual voice, it's absolutely phenomenal.