Jazz Improv Interview 4/9/04
JI - Could you discuss the creation of your CD Groovopolis? How did you develop the title? What kind of preparation did you engage in for the sessions?
CC - Jeff Mills (drums) and I were experimenting in my studio with all sorts of things, and suddenly the opening track "Go Home" was just one of many things in production. I've always thought it would make a nice guitar oriented pop instrumental. Anyway, that track seemed to be the catalyst for the whole project. Next came Dean Fransen (keyboards) and he got excited. The sound began to be defined as Steely Dan meets Miles Davis. Over the next few months Jay Webb (trumpet) and Lenny DiMartino (bass) were invited to join. Once Dean got involved, things really started to fly. We became great friends overnight.
The process was pretty offbeat. I would create a midi file version of the songs then, one by one, the individual players would come in, learn the tune, and record it in the same day. As we were tracking, I'd run them through the whole tune with no punching in... say 10 or 12 times. Later I edited all the individual takes into one composite take. I'd say about 300-400 hours were spent editing the tracks. The players were all surprised at the final results. No one really knew what I was going for completely. The end result included a lot of their own ideas for variations on my charts. Chords got changed. Unexpected harmonies emerged, etc...
Dean Fransen named the group after the record was in the can. It didn't seem right to me to make it a Cortez solo record. Everyone had contributed. We all co-own the Master, and I shared production credit with Dean and Lenny. Lenny helped me mix as well.
JI - What was the motivation to change direction in doing an album full of standards on your CD Hold It Right There versus the "smooth" approach of Groovopolis?
CC - Focusing on one particular brand of jazz has always been very difficult for me. Before Groovopolis, every record was way too eclectic for the market. Most major labels passed on me during that phase because they didn't know how to describe me. I have another problem in that I'm known as a guitarist, but I also sing.
Hold It Right There is simply an effort to document the act that has been putting food on the table for 25 years. My writing has taken a turn in this direction as well, so I feel pretty comfortable in this setting.
Someday I'll get back to the fusion, the latin, the post-bop. For now I'm trying to create a little name recognition and it helps my promotional team if I stay easily definable for a while as a singing guitarist. It's a very comfortable role for me, although in my youth I resisted it.
I think I saw myself as some kind of grand composer and arranger of jazz music ala Gil Evans. For whatever reason, the world failed to find me as that, but I stubbornly clung to that approach for years. Simplifying the act has made me focus more on my playing, and less on writing and arranging, which has been liberating. There was about a year of woodshed time after Groovopolis wrapped.
There were marketing considerations too. I like some smooth jazz, but most of it leaves me cold. It was very frustrating to me to search out the Groovopolis airplay, and in the process, be subjected to tons of crap. I think Groovopolis goes much deeper than most smooth records. I didn't like being associated with all those drum loops. I wanted to do the next record for a straight ahead audience. I'm in much better company on this side of the dial, and it's more reflective of my taste.
Not to say I didn't enjoy doing Groovopolis. I did, but that's not all there is to me by a long shot. I think if I were relegated to repeating that formula over and over, it would drive me crazy. Every new project should have something fresh to offer.
My new CD will be a follow up to Hold It Right There. I've added some originals, and I'm performing everything on acoustic guitar, but we've tried to stay with the same sort of song choices. I'm having a ball working on it. My playing continues to develop, and it's really showcased on the new one.
JI - Could you discuss one or two of the artists who have significantly influenced your own approach to music and improvisation and cite specifically how they have do so?
CC - I can't limit it to one or two. Although it might not be apparent in my current projects, in listening, I'm profoundly moved by Metheny, McLaughlin, Martino, and Corea. A litany of older jazz masters as well.. Ellington, Monk, Miles, Bird, and on and on. George Benson and Al Dimeola were big at the start. The older influences are probably much more apparent now that I'm doing the straight ahead thing.
In performance, Ira Sullivan made a huge impression on me. When I played with Herbie Mann I picked up a lot of things. Joe Diorio was incredibly generous. Bill Evans (sax) was influential. I had one lesson with Joe Pass that was priceless.
And the not so famous... Gary Marcus taught me so much. Mark Piszczek, Rich Shemaria, Eddie Marshall, Larry Williams, Dean Fransen, and others I've worked with over the years. People who bothered to tell me to play this, not that. This chord here, that scale there, etc.. So many jazz musicians are aloof to the novice. I was fortunate to have strong musical influences right on my bandstand who were into sharing the knowledge from the beginning of my jazz excursion.
JI - How do you want your music to influence people--what do you want it to say or do?
CC - I love this question. When I go to a concert I want to feel that they've prepared for the performance. I also don't want to be ignored, as an audience member. I'm pretty careful in my shows to consider the audience in my presentation.
Even though we're playing jazz, which is a serious challenge, I still want everyone to have a good time. I'm not above funny lyrics. I tell jokes, I play a variety of styles, but I approach everything with a high degree of musicianship. There is a serious side as well, but it's all about having a good time, and enjoying some incredible musicians. Lately, my song selections reflect this more light-hearted approach. It probably stems from all the nightclub work. I'm in the trenches, where I must be accessible to a tourist audience. I can't afford to play too far over their heads, or I'll lose the gig. That reality has forced me to come to terms with the fact that I'm an entertainer, not just a musician. More importantly, that I enjoy doing that, and it's an important part of what I bring to the table.
I guess I'd really just like the audience to appreciate my unique point of view for a little while. I'm not trying to change the world with my improvisations, or orchestrate the ultimate chops display. Simple enjoyment. Pleasure. Beauty. Love. I'd be very happy if people acknowledged the love and care that goes into it.
I wrote a song years ago, about a man in New York who paints with his feet because he has no arms. It has an uplifting message about not giving up. At a show, I gave a free CD to the sound man who told me his wife was dying of bone cancer. Months later, he told me how much she'd enjoyed the song, and how it had brought his family together in her last days.
To be able to influence someone in this way was an amazing honor. This was, for me, the ultimate musical influence I could ever have.
JI - Tell us about your upbringing, your family and the kinds of feelings, sounds and sights you experienced at home.
CC - My mother and sister were in the community theater in Orlando, Fl. I was always being dragged to rehearsals
and shows, and recruited as "the kid" in whatever play needed me. Very early, it became apparent that music would be the thing with me, and my mother encouraged me. My father bought me my first guitar at age 9. I wanted a set of drums. I've been driving drummers crazy ever since.
I started with folk music and blues, grew to rock and roll, top 40, and finally jazz. A little private instruction. I worked at Walt Disney World in the Kids of the Kingdom band for a few years, which was great training. I learned to read and write music during that time, which was a world of opportunity. Played my first club dates, backed up production shows, and a lot of nightclubs.
In my early adulthood, I led two groups, Big Bamboo and Rhythm Method, which were kind of groundbreaking fusion groups for Orlando. Both groups had a nice following, got a lot of local airplay, played all the local festivals and events, and eventually went to the Montreaux Jazz Fest in Switzerland.
These two groups set the standard for all of my future groups. Their musicianship was amazing. The musical diversity was unprecedented. These were my formative years.
JI - Could you share some of your perspectives about learning how to improvise?
CC - For me, the discovery that the major scale has many of the other scales within it was profound. Early on, I got hold of a Berklee Method for Guitar book, by William Leavitt, and played the major scale page for an unbelievably long time, without venturing any farther. Without knowing it, I was doing the most important thing I could do.
Years later, this knowledge began to manifest itself on the stand as I applied it to be-bop and standards. As I develop, I've taken it farther, but this is still the most used "trick of the trade." Using this knowledge, one can begin to see groups of chords,
relating to one key. This is liberating.
JI - What is the nature of your practice approach?
CC - I guess the most important thing to me about practicing is that I'm moving forward. Playing something new. Many players sit down to practice and run through all the stuff they always play. That's not practicing. You've got to advance. That means unfamiliar territory.
JI - Discuss the temptation to focus on or be drawn to technique over the music itself that some artists experience. How have you worked to balance the two?
CC - Oh yes! This is the biggest pitfall. As youngsters, we're drawn in by the flash of technique that a Chick Corea, etc.. might bring to the table. As we get older, all of us start to appreciate the more subtle, understated aspects of a performance. The beauty and simplicity of Stan Getz vs the pyrotechnics of Trane. Maturity is the compliment most often given to the young lions in our business, when what we mean is restraint.
Music should be a form of communication. We can't all talk at once, and probably shouldn't try to say everything in one sentence. Why do jazz musicians feel this need? This is ego driven. Actually, I think all of us go through this as we grow. I'm a victim of it, but I resist it. The showman wants to get over. Playing fast is just one tool I'll use to accomplish that, but I do use it. Hopefully, I'm focusing on communication with the band as much. A big part of your ability to connect has to do with the spaces in the music, and with the composer's original intent.
There is another element I'd like to toss in here. I can play "outside," and I enjoy a lot of players who do, but most of the time I prefer the ones who CAN play "INSIDE." When I first started to play jazz, I gravitated toward the types of jazz that pushed the harmonic envelope. I dove into that style of playing with no experience with standards. No knowledge of acceptable melodic structure. Consequently, my solos were ill informed. Rambling and repetitious. The discipline of performing club dates where standard tunes had to be played in standard ways proved to be a great way of developing this area for me. Nothing like on the job training. I got swept up into traditional New Orleans jazz and made a study of the local songbook.
Hold It Right There is a pretty "inside" record. I wrestled with that a bit because I secretly crave the respect of that post-bop crowd. Its a pretty nostalgic album, more representative of an earlier approach to jazz. Certainly less challenging to the ear than a lot of the modern acoustic jazz I hear today. The mixture of the vocals, the selection of songs, the players styles, our location, the kinds of gigs we play... all were pointing to a more "inside" production approach. This doesn't advance the art form, or break down any barriers to more complex forms, which I certainly support. Its blatantly about building name recognition through familiarity. Its also an honest reflection of the act I've been doing for about 25 years, and my current environment. This connects to your question because, by choosing to direct the current project to a more "inside" approach, which was counter to my ego, (who wanted post-bop recognition, remember), I actually opened the door to subtlety and taste. If I can't play "out" I have to make an attempt at elegance.
What seems like a limitation can so often be the thing that opens the door. The restrictions of an "inside" approach revealed things that I never would have noticed, and forced me into a place that was very self-critical. I had to find that big tone, that big chord, instead of reaching for a foot pedal or playing something enharmonic or dissonant. Hell, just the challenge of playing something fresh over these old tunes is hard.
There are some great examples of my "outside" playing on my CD Talamasca. Modal excursions, post-bop, extended solos, that sort of thing. If I were in New York this is probably the direction I'd be going in but I'm not sure I'd be doing it as well as I could say, 5 years from now, having had the benefit of a few "inside" projects.
There is also an element of "paying one's dues" here. In my case I needed to do a standards album now because that's where I am in my development. I'm honest enough to admit that the serious study of be-bop is a place I'm still dwelling (or returning to) even though many of my influences have gone so much farther. I've still got a lot of work to do before I'm qualified to participate in a musical revolution. I continue to work toward that goal, and stand in awe of the Coreas, Methenys, Martinos, etc.. of the world. Those 3 names in particular stand out to me as musical visionaries. They have the technique, the taste, and the imagination to take us somewhere completely new. I'm still in the shed with Sweet Georgia Brown. Looking ahead, I'm very excited about crossing those bridges, and where that will take me. It's the journey, not the destination.
JI - What kinds of processes do you go through in composing songs?
CC - An emotional event in my life is usually the catalyst. For vocal tunes, it's the lyric that comes first. Then the melody, then the changes. Along the way, the rhythmic structure and concept seem to reveal themselves. Instrumental tunes are all melody driven. I used to write with a loop, but I found that it pushed me in certain directions. When I follow the melody, I always get it right.
It's more a process of discovery, than creation. I always feel like it's out there, waiting for me to find it.
JI - Could you share some of your business and marketing experience as an independent recording artist.
CC - started the national marketing of my label Blue Bamboo with the Groovopolis project, and I've learned a lot
since then. There is so much about the music business that is misunderstood by its participants.
Distribution is one aspect. There are two major distributors of CDs in the US. EMI and BMG. Together they have literally hundreds of thousands of retail outlets carrying their products. Indie distributors have maybe 1000 or 2000 stores. You simply can't sell through in retail, without one of those big distributors behind you.
What you can do, is create a retail access point. If your CD takes off in the press and airplay, the stores CAN get it, but if you want exposure in retail, you have to pay for it. Even if you have the money, you may still be rejected by the big chains. Indies have to audition for space.
There is also a myth about regional campaigns. There are a lot of people out there making a living by selling you the "secrets to success." After plunking down your enrollment fee, you're told to release your record regionally. The truth is, this rarely works. They get some local exposure, and I guess that's something, but they don't chart, they don't get any national press, etc.. The industry remains largely unaware of them. What these hustlers ought to tell you is that there is no way to do it without some kind of national marketing budget. That money goes to radio promoters, press agents, retail promotions, print ads, manufacturing, and postage.
If you've got money to invest, you'll still need patience. It'll take 4 or 5 CDs to establish an unknown artist. The major labels spend millions on a new artist to establish name recognition. On that level it happens overnight. At the indie level, it takes longer because you're spending less, and relying on the record to take its own heat. You're counting on that one in a million release that takes off, regardless of its budget. It happens, but it's rare.
I do it because I want to control my own productions. Someday, I'll have at least a marginal hit, and that will increase interest in the catalog. The early investment will pay off eventually, but there is a long period of growth that will precede any success of that type. Fortunately or not, jazz is the smallest part of the market, which also makes it the most affordable investment. Pop records cost 10 times as much to promote.
I should add that Blue Bamboo is looking for new releases. Some of your readers might want to send me their demos and press kits. I want to start expanding the label to include other artists.
JI - Could you share any interesting or unusual stories, advice, wisdom that you've accumulated in your years as a performer and composer?
CC - Always take your wallet on stage with you.
Seriously, an event comes to mind with Ira Sullivan. Our band was backing him up in a concert and at the rehearsal, he would start to play a familiar song. Little by little the band would fall in, as they recognized the song individually. He stopped us and told us to wait for a logical entrance point, where we could enter as a group. It was such a simple thing, but it made such a difference. An unrehearsed song could suddenly appear to be a polished performance. In the future, all jam sessions and impromptu gigs were approached this way, and we suddenly looked like super pros all the time.
JI - Whose ideas and thinking have been the most influential for you. Discuss the specific people who are the exponents of those ideas if relevant.
CC - I'm fascinated by Einstein. His rise from lowly patent clerk is inspirational. Ghandi is another. Martin Luther King, Jr. People who do great things with very little to work with, and with unselfish motivation, are very inspirational to me.
I've done a lot of personal research on religion. I'm very spiritual, not a member of an organized religion, but I've studied them all. The amazing thing about religions is how much they have in common.
My general philosophy is one where we embrace the things that bring us together, and reject what separates us. Race and religion, gay or straight, republican or democrat, nationalism. These are examples of differences. In the overall scheme of our evolution, it's what we have in common that moves us forward. The differences become scapegoats for the little minds who need to blame someone for their own failures. Personal responsibility is big with me. I admit it, and apologize when I'm wrong.
JI - Could you discuss what ideas or activities outside of music you engage in and how they provide fulfillment for you?
CC - I write, draw, read, and paint, but music is the thing for me. It's pretty much a full time obsession. I'm in constant proximity to my tools, and all I seem to want to do is make more music. All day in the studio, all night at the gig. That's my life.
I'm also fascinated by film. I'd love to score one. I watch a lot of films.
JI - How do you stay balanced--as an artist, as an individual--and nurture deeper meaningful ideas and feelings in this contemporary society in the face the incessant stress and sensory overload that surrounds us?
CC - I'm not sure I am balanced. Interesting that you chose that word. Balance. I'm a Libra and balance does seem to be a constant theme. My favorite phrase is "on the other hand."
The modern world does have its challenges. War, terrorism, corruption in our government, etc.. There is plenty to worry about. I simply try to write a song about it. Try to live and act
with love and care. Try to keep my little corner of the world clean. Historically speaking, these negative trends have a way of reversing themselves.
Music is a great therapeutic activity. My "balance" always returns in the middle of a set, if I'm not feeling right at the start.
The airplay, and the reaction of critics and fans to both Groovopolis and Hold It Right There was wonderfully affirming. Not a bad one in the bunch. I'm blessed. I get up every day and do what I love to do. A growing number of people are really enjoying it. Lots of possibilities for the future. That's a pretty nice space.
I'm also very fortunate to be married to a wonderful woman. Melody (can you believe that's her name?) is a constant source of strength, acceptance, support, inspiration, and love. She's the first one to remind me of my higher purpose when I have a crisis. Having that unconditional ally is very liberating.
The other allies in my life are very special, too. Humphrey Davis, Jr. (sax) has employed me for over a year as his sideman, and that gig probably paid for Hold It Right There. John Wooton also hires me all the time for his Calypso group Kaiso. The variety in my calendar when I add my own group, and solo stuff to that gumbo certainly keeps me on my toes and definitely contributes to my overall well being.
Jeff Mills and Dean Fransen have worked tirelessly to help me achieve my vision. I think Jeff is an incredible drummer. His expertise and versatility never cease to amaze me. Dean is full of musical surprises. Both are the best friends anyone could have. Not to dis anyone else. Sam Bruton, Larry Panella, Tommy Sciple, Lenny DiMartino, and Sam Sadigursky, Reggie Murray, and Jay Webb have all made huge contributions as well. Having this kind of support from this caliber of player is a constant reminder of how fortunate I am. That really helps me keep my head up.
Very nice to have you as an ally too, Eric. Thanks for having me.