Peter Brotzmann Interview

March 24, 2000

by Jeff Bagato

So the intention of that quartet was always to pay tribute to Albert Ayler?
That was the first meaning, yes. We never did it the way that we just played Ayler's tunes or tunes around this area. I think it was much more about the background of it, the meaning of it. So on the first CD we just used a couple of quotations of Ayler's pieces.

There's a strong feeling of Ayler on that.
Yeah. I think after such long years it doesn't make sense to try to play the same way or to use all the tunes. I mean, nobody can have played them better than Ayler himself. Both Kondo and myself felt the same kind of feeling. It's more about the feeling and more about the respect. Because at that time when we started he was quite neglected in the US as well as over here. And I think we gave just a little push to listen to his music again.

When did Die Like a Dog start playing?
What do we have now? 2000. It must have been 94. 

You're talking about playing in the spirit of Ayler--do you mean playing with that same freedom?
When I started to play in, let's call it my way or my style, some records came over from the States, the good old ESP records, there were a lot of strange guys, strange music. Then it happened that we, I mean Peter Kowald, the bass player, played a lot of music in Heidelburg in a kind of jazz club. At that time we met a black guy sitting there from time to time. That was the time Ayler was playing in the Army band in Heidelburg. So he didn't mention a name, and even at that time the name wouldn't have meant anything to us, but some years later when the first photographs on the record sleeves came over, we said 'Oh man, weve met that guy!' That was really quite surprising. One thing we had together, at the same time not knowing from each other, trying to play the horn in a way real different way than all the others did. And I think that was the kind of connection between us. And you know, what always was very important for me, the way his playing--its a very American thing. I mean, we in Europe, I don't want to generalize, but we come quite a lot from the intellectual side of doing things, and you always admire what you don't have. And he had one thing, as a lot of other American musicians, or horn players anyway--the way of praying his music, the way of being a preacher, in a way. I admired that very much. It really hit my soul in a way.

You mentioned that you and Ayler were playing the horn in a different way, and I'm wondering what comprised that difference. Do you feel it was a focus on energy or technique or freedom?
You know, at that time, of course everybody was listening to the early Coltranes, and here in Europe we had a lot of chances to listen the Miles Davis band with Coltrane, with Adderley, with all the big names, with Eric Dolphy, for example. We organized a concert here in my hometown with the Charlie Mingus band. At that time Dolphy was in it, so we had a chance to hang out with him the whole night and talk to him--or listen to him--better. So there was a lot of connections to the new stuff. Ornette Coleman came over a lot of times. On the other side, we all came from the hard bop business, more or less. We got kind of tired of that very simple form thing. On the other hand I'm coming from the art business. I studied painting at that time, and I was listening to the first Stockhausen things, and the Fluxus movement. I was involved in these kind of things too. So besides the jazz music, I had some other informations. And for me it was not so difficult to throw away all the very fixed forms of hard bop--the bars and the harmonics and the scales. And you shouldn't forget the political situation in the middle of the 60s, because it was really a movement not only in the arts, in the politics too; we really thought we could change the world to something better and freer. Of course, we didn't succeed, but that was the feeling. So to throw away all kinds of borders, all kinds of prisons you were sitting in. And maybe especially for us Germans, just get rid of what our fathers had done during the second world war. I think that all came together. The German movement in free jazz was the strongest one in Europe, I think. And maybe all those things coming together--the result of that is what we tried to do in those years.

A lot of the liner notes and things on the web have talked about energy and freedom, or an anti-technical aesthetic--are any of these things appropriate to describing your style?
Ehh, yeah. Of course. I mean I always thought that making this kind of music, playing jazz, is a music not only of the spirit but of the body too. The body is very important. For me, I always like to play to a kind of end where you really don't know where you are anymore. Where the physics really have to give up, in a way. In my younger years, at least, that was the case. You know, even doing that, you're getting in a kind of trance. I still like to do it; in all these decades, I changed a bit. I'm getting a little older. Hopefully, I know a little better. I still like to play--sorry about this--to play my ass off. I like it, but of course, since a lot of years I like softer moments, quieter moments too. Most of the critics always see me as a very energetic player, and sometimes I have the feeling most of them don't listen to what I did over all those years. Because if you listen to the trio I had for long years with Han Bennink, the Dutch drummer, we played some balladesque-type stuff, and in my solo playing. But what comes over is all that this is power playing from that guy in Germany. But theres another side; there always was.

I was listening to that From Valley to Valley CD a couple times to prepare for this, and I was trying to focus on the more lyrical moments. The overwhelming impression is of the energy, but then you notice that while there's a lot of fast, intense lines they'll open up into a more lyrical form. Especially on the encore is very beautiful. But the myth is of a very wild player.
(chuckles) I mean, sometimes I have the feeling I can do whatever I want and they write the same nonsense. As I said, its a part of the truth, but its really just a part.

Let me go back to the Die Like a Dog quartet. What's the source material on the later CDs?
All the guys in that band are on the scene for long years. And in all those long years you develop your own style, your own language, your own material, which you can use or you can forget about. When we come together, and that happens twice or 3 times a year for some little tours in Europe or the States, we just go on stage, meet each other, we in a way talk to each other. And the good thing is that from the last time to the new time, its always happening something different. All the different records I've recorded with Toshinori Kondo or with Roy, all the things are completely different. The good thing with the quartet, nobody falls asleep; everybody brings new ideas, new experience. So for us, up till now, hopefully in the future, each concert is really a new experience for us too. That's what I like and I think that's what we all like.

How does that group compose music?
With this quartet, it's all free. It's all improvised. I mean, some of my Dutch friends found the words "instant composing," that I like quite a lot. You know, we know what we're doing. One of us has the very special idea to start with, and we follow or we speak against, or whatever happens. But we all come with our materials, with our language, and we talk to each other. And we find out where it goes.

I have the feeling that you're the guy starting the music most often, and that the others come in following you.
Mmm, could be. A little bit. I think it's changing between the two horns. Especially when I'm playing with Toshinori Kondo. He takes over, or he starts something in one special direction where I follow. But when I'm playing with Roy [Campbell], the guys are waiting for me to start and stop and maybe give some direction.

Yeah, Roy seems to follow you more than Kondo.
We know each other for long years, but we didn't play so much together. I think for us it's very nice to listen to each other and have open ears for each other.

Sometimes Roy will start almost at the same time as you and he'll be playing very complimentary material, so its hard to say there's a clear leader.
I think that's our common past, in a way. I mean, I'm not an American, I'm not a black guy, but I listen to this music since I was 12 or 13. So I hope I learned and realized quite a lot.

Do you think you're a tough leader to follow in that context?
No, I try to be very polite. I think my thing in such a group, especially when I'm working with bigger groups, is to open up and make things possible for the others. I mean, I know what I can play. I like to play, but for me as the leader of that band its very important and very satisfying too, to give the others as much possibilities and freedom as possible. 

That quartet is so amazing because its like a free jazz dream team, and I'm wondering how you assembled those players in particular.
Ja. Toshinori Kondo was the first trumpet player in the band, and we're changing who is able to play the gigs.

So Kondo is still part of the group when he can be?
We have a couple of things; Roy is busy in Europe with his own band, so its very good to have the two choices. So in Europe, Kondo will be there. Its nice because there's not really many trumpet players around here in Europe. So how did this thing come together? I don't know. Like I said, I know Kondo a long time from my tours in Japan and Europe, and besides working together we've developed a good friendship. William Parker I know from the good old New York times, we played in different groups. And as I needed and could pay a bass player to come over, it was William. 

He's a strong player.
Yes.

Was it necessary to choose such strong players to work with you?
You know, in the last two decades or even longer, the bass was getting too much a kind of virtuosi instrument, and William is playing the bass in a very old fashioned American way, like his teacher Wilbur Ware did.

Let's go back to your style briefly. You seem to play these dense, compacted, almost impenetrable lines, and I was wondering why you choose that form mostly, especially when things do open up and there can be more lyricism.
What can I say. I don't know where that comes from. I think it's a part of my personality. I always was well known in Europe, and later on in the States: Oh, there's this guy playing very violent, and he doesn't care about any harmonics and details and things. He's playing without anything. Ja, there was a time, and actually I could give a shit about harmonics. I don't need it, but if somebody else needs it, I like to play it. But for me, my way of thinking is from note to note, from special line to special line. You can listen to Shoenberg or Webern or one of the old guys of modern music here in Europe, I have the feeling I learned some from them. Not by studying it, but just by listening. Maybe its my European heritage in a way, but we could say forget about that, I don't need that and we don't need that to make music. We are able to create different methods of music.

You mentioned the line, and that's another impression, that you compose in lines. You'll play a line that's fast and compact and then another one. I was reading that these lines were marked out by the space of a breath, how long a breath would last, more or less. When you go from one line to the next are you playing off each line? 
I think it's a kind of dialectic or contrapuntal thinking. If I've done this one and it's very clear, so it's OK, I've said this to jump over to one completely different thing. To make what I did before even clearer. To make some black and white difference in the thing. I think that's a little bit my way of playing nowadays.

When you open up the lines to more lyricism, what's the intention there?
I think a lot of reasons. I like to play that kind of thing; that's a very simple thing. On the other hand, I might come back to what I said before, I want to open up to ourselves and maybe open up the wide range of possibilities of music for the audience too. Maybe its a part of my Romantic heritage, too, I don't know.

In talking about these technical details, I didn't want to overlook the great passion in your playing, too. You had mentioned the spiritual and emotional impact in Ayler's playing.
I think I had some good teachers.

You're self-taught, right?
I'm self-taught. Now teachers, I mean another way. I had good friends and good teachers. One of them, was Don Cherry. Another was Steve Lacy; I learned something from Carla Bley. Anyway, I learned more about music and passion from my American friends. The last time I was playing in Atlanta, I went to a church service in the black community, and I saw this man preaching and I saw this passion I talked about with Ayler. And I saw the people reacting. I can't do the same; I'm not one of these people. My sources and my roots are different, but you can have the same passion. If you do something, and you're really convinced about what you're doing, you have to do it nearly as good and nearly 100%, or as close as you can come. Otherwise, it's not worth opening the case of the horn. I learned that the influences of the people I mentioned--Cecil Taylor showed me this, a lot of other persons, old horn players like when I was young I saw Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster, other drummers, like Kenny Clarke. I could mention a lot of the old guys; even if it doesn't sound alike, I learned a lot just watching and listening to these men. 

That's one thing Ive noticed in the shows Transparent has been bringing, when you just listen to records the impact isn't as great as seeing people in the live setting. You can feel the music a lot more. So I'm really looking forward to seeing you play.
I hope I don't disappoint you! [chuckles]

How do you evaluate your artistic success?
What is success? I have to be very careful. I'm glad. I have to thank all the folks I've had a chance to work with, because I always see this kind of music, jazz musici--ts still jazz to me--I think its the music of a bunch of people, from duo to I don't know what. You have to work together and to find a reasonable result. That makes me happy. I worked hard all the years, from the very beginning until now. I'm still working hard; I'm traveling like an idiot, cause you have to to survive if you're not teaching, if you're not doing something else, if you're just living from playing and traveling. It's hard. It's hard work, but I still love it. Success? Ahh! The only good thing about that kind of success is you get a couple of gigs more easily. Which is good for you, good for the others, and you can even from time to time ask for a little bit more money. [laughs] And what people are writing about me, this is all meant very well, but I think I can look at myself with a lot of distance, so I try to find out where I am with myself. It's nice to see your picture in the paper. I'm always happy when people like the things we're doing, and even I like to discuss with people who don't like these things. I see all this with really some distance.

You've worked with a lot of groups; which was your favorite to work with?
Ahh, that's hard to say. At the moment, it is the quartet. On the other hand we formed the Chicago Tentet, which we performed at the Berlin Jazz Festival, at the Vancouver Festival; we'll have quite a tour of the United States in the summer. And this is a very interesting combination of people, and it's so nice to have ten or sometimes it's twelve people to work with. It's very interesting work. It's a pity it costs a lot of money. That's why the groups are getting smaller in Europe and the States. But sometimes we find chances to do it. I'm looking forward to this summer tour which will keep us together for two, nearly three weeks, so we can develop things. The Tentet tour will be from the middle of June to the beginning of July.

My first exposure to your work was with Last Exit, and I think that may be the case with a lot of people listening to free jazz now, coming from the punk rock scene. Can you compare the energy of that group with Die Like a Dog?
Different. I think the range of dynamics in Die Like a Dog quartet is much bigger. This is natural because it's just natural instruments. We don't need the electricity. The proposition for the Last Exit band was completely different. I must say I enjoyed that time very much. It was a live band. We had good concerts, we had a lot of quite terrible things, but OK, that was the way it went. But for me it was really a pleasure to work with Sonny Sharrock, and the other two of course Shannon is a great drummer. Hopefully well play together again. And I still have my contacts with Bill. Of course, we'll never get back this quartet; we'll have to think about new things. It really was a high energy band. It's a pity it had to finish because of Sonny's death. Otherwise I think we would have continued. If I remember right, the last time we developed more different things.

Head First into the Flames is very different from the earlier records.
Yeah. It's a shame, but that's the way it goes.

I have a 2 year old son and we sometimes make music together and I wondered what it's like for you to make music with your son.
Ahh, yeah. I get this question quite often. We are good comrades. The time he was picking up the guitar, that was Jimi Hendrix's time. He did it--hopefully because he liked to do it--but he did it as a kind of little family revolution against the father. In a way. So I think that's the way it started.

Would you have preferred him to play more jazz?
No, no. I never told him. I mean, we always had the house full of different musicians, so he could talk to Derek Bailey or Han Bennink or whoever came around. So he could get information from them. I never told him what to do. He picked up the guitar, and that was all right. I didn't realize he was serious in the beginning, but it turned out he was very serious. Then I helped him wherever I could with equipment or information, but I never told him "Play this or that." After time he formed his own bands, some of them I like and some of them I didn't. There came a time there was an offer to do a record together from and English guy from an independent label. At that time I was in New York at Bill's studio, and this guy came with the money, and so we did it. I think it worked out quite well. Since that time we play from time to time together. We have a very nice trio with Hamid Drake. They like each other very much. And we play duos. There's a Swiss drummer I'm working with, my son is working with, too. So we see each other. And I see when we go to work together, I seem him much more as a good comrade, a good colleague than my son. Of course, we talk from time to time about family affairs, but that happens. 

You don't feel you gave him any particular preparation for musical life?
I think what he learned is that if there are difficulties, don't give up. Just go and work on the things, and there will be a better time.

You're still based in Wuppertal?
Yeah. I'm not here very often. Tomorrow I go to Holland for some days, playing with Keiji Haino.

That should be interesting; he has a reputation much like yours.
BROTZMANN: Four or five years ago I toured with him for four weeks in Japan. He doesn't speak English--or he says he doesn't, or doesn't want to. But after the second or third week I realized he understands, and at the end he was even talking a little bit. But he's a very shy guy. Very special. I like his work. And the drummer Shoji Hano is another crazy one. He played with Kondo years ago. 
END

[Originally appeared in Mole #13]