David Sanborn

David Sanborn (b. 1945)
a.k.a. David William Sanborn

SANBORN GETS CLOSER
As only the most distinctive musicians can, alto saxophonist David Sanborn announces his identity with a single note. His signature sound has enlivened both his own popular albums and the hit recordings of others for over three decades. Closer, much like its precessor Time Again, blends Sanborn’s twin loves: groove-oriented and straight-ahead jazz. Ted Panken spoke to the sax icon about his stylistic balancing act.

Barnes & Noble.com: Was there an overriding idea surrounding the making of this album?

David Sanborn: Not really. It was more a continuation of the train of thought on Time Again. Some of it has to do with the process and some of it just has to do with a reflection of where I’m at right now. By “process,” I mean just the way a lot of this material was conceived. Both the original and the nonoriginal stuff was at my house, where I did demos of all the tunes myself. All the tunes were pretty much fully realized before I actually recorded them. So I had conceptually a very clear idea of what I wanted to do. I did it all myself and then took it in to other musicians. Rather than talking kind of vague generalities or give them sheet music with indications on it, I gave them music with indications on it. But I always prefer to have an idea. To me, the best way to clarify it in my own mind, as well as demonstrate it to other people, is to just do demos of the songs and to do them in a way that reflects not only the actual physical notes but also the mood, the approach, the emotional tenor of the thing.

B&N.com: There’s an interesting range of material on Closer. You’re doing in your own manner a pretty broad swath of groove-oriented jazz material with quite a bit of harmonic content. Could you discuss choosing the repertoire and putting together the sound?

DS: I chose stuff because I had an emotional reaction to it. I don’t know, It’s not really a very premeditated thing. It wasn’t a matter of, “Okay, now I’ve got to do an album; now I’ve got to go out and find material.” This stuff had been kicking around for a long time. Sometimes stuff kind of presents itself to you while you’re working on a record, or somebody will bring it up to you. Somebody says, “Have you ever thought about doing this tune?” For example, "Señor Blues" is a tune I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve loved that tune forever. I think Horace Silver was actually the first live jazz group I ever heard back when I was a kid in St. Louis. So along with most players of my generation, I have a real affection for the music of Horace Silver. So that was a tune that was always in the back of my mind, and after I did "Harlem Nocturne" on Time Again I was kind of in that frame of mind, that African percussion vibe, and I thought it would be an interesting way to approach "Señor Blues." "Tin Tin Deo" was a tune that I loved, and I just happened...I was in a cab and somebody had on WBGO, and they played it on the radio, and it was kind of serendipitous. "Smile" is a song that I’ve always loved. I’ve just wanted to do it for years, and now it was just, “Okay, let me do this.” "All the Sad Young Men" was another song I really loved. I remember hearing Chris Connor sing it.

B&N.com: This record and Time Again have a feeling not unlike those late-‘60s Blue Note or early-‘70s CTI Stanley Turrentine dates, just in the rhythmic feeling and the amount of space, and the way you phrase. It’s a pleasant feel.

DS: Thank you. I was a big fan especially of Stanley Turrentine. I think he’s probably one of the most underrated saxophone players that there are. He was tremendously influential, because he really bridged the gap between soul jazz.... He’s filled in the space in terms of a more contemporary player. He was the guy, just the way he phrased, it was so unique. He influenced so many people, and had such a profound influence on the music. That tune "Sugar," which was in a way his trademark, was such an archetypal soul jazz tune of the ‘60s and ‘70s.

B&N.com: One guy who’s often associated with you tonally is Hank Crawford.

DS: Well, he was a huge influence. That’s the first live music I can remember hearing that really affected me, was Ray Charles’ band, and Hank and David Newman were in that band. In Hank’s case, there are a couple of records he did on his own using Ray’s small big band that he did after hours, after a gig with Ray, and he could play these slow blues really slow, and leave all this space. That had a big effect on me.

B&N.com: In St. Louis during those years, which were the years before the Civil Rights Act was passed, there was a very vital jazz scene in the black community. It seems you were able to get in there and get a lot of information. It seems to have imprinted itself on the way you think about music to this day. It’s certainly coming out of Closer.

DS: I certainly think that’s true. Ninety-nine percent of the music that was of any interest to me when I was growing up came out of the black community. So it was only logical that’s where I was going to go. It was a lot easier during those days for a white person to go into the black community than it was for a black person to go into the white community. That’s a broad understatement! There was so much great music happening. There was an area of St. Louis called Gaslight Square, which for a brief period in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s was the happening place where all the jazz clubs where, where the nightlife was located in St. Louis -- and I used to hang out down there. I met a lot of musicians and heard a lot of live music.

B&N.com: But one of the distinguishing things about the Midwest scene that made it so different and made it sound so distinctive is that most jazz players were very much informed by the blues and rhythm-and-blues, both in their professional lives as well as the environment they came up in.

DS: Very much that way. It was very ecumenical. People didn’t really think, especially at that time, in terms of categories as much. The more traditional straight-ahead players would sometimes look a little askance at the more avant-garde players. But there wasn’t that kind of balkanization of things. The community was much more vital, I think, because there was more work. I guess it felt like there was not as much at stake, except the music. Do you know what I mean? It’s like, “Hey, man. Well, why not do this?”

B&N.com: Let’s return to where you’re at today. Is your attitude toward the music you’re making in some way different than it was, say, five years ago or ten years ago in terms of what you want to present?

DS: I wish I could say I had more of an agenda about it than I do, but I really don’t. Music is just kind of an expression of who I am. It’s what I do. It’s hard for me to evaluate myself in terms of my past. I look back, and I think some of it is okay and I think some of it is not so okay. But I don’t dwell on it too much. It’s hard to articulate what that is, but it’s to get to some kind of directness. Be able to kind of connect emotionally to people through the music in as direct a way as I can.

Date: January,1005