Jaco Pastorius

[Lois Gilbert]

Celebrating A Pioneer on The Bass Path


Jaco Pastorius was "one of the most authentic voices in jazz, regardless of the instrument," says bassist Gerald Veasley.

By Fernando Gonzalez
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, June 22, 2003; Page N01

Don't let the facts get in the way of a good story, the old saying goes. But in the case of Jaco Pastorius, bassist extraordinaire, the problem is not that the facts might somehow diminish the story. Indeed, they add up to a dramatic, and ultimately heartbreaking, tale. No, the problem is that with Pastorius, some of the facts -- his drug and alcohol addictions, the anecdotes of wild, erratic behavior, his days as a street bum in New York, the late diagnosis of manic-depression and the senseless fight outside a club in Florida that rendered him comatose and resulted in his death in 1987 at age 35 -- have tended to obscure his accomplishments as the last true innovator in jazz in the 20th century.

Pastorius's uncanny mix of earthy grooves and lyricism, and his imaginative use of harmonics and chords, just to name a few elements of his playing, redefined the role of the electric bass. In fact, his approach -- offering countermelodies, implying harmonic variations, underscoring textural possibilities, all while anchoring the music with his impeccable timekeeping -- often suggested the work of an orchestrator rather than a simple bottom-line provider.

As a composer and arranger, his work would evoke the verve and energy of a soul revue one moment and the astute subtleties of a Gil Evans the next, leaving tantalizing signs of what might have been.

The recent release of the two-disc "Punk Jazz: The Jaco Pastorius Anthology" and an upcoming tribute project directed by bandleader and trombonist Peter Graves, a longtime Pastorius friend, collaborator and early employer, might help restore some perspective about the bassist and his contributions.

"I think he was also one of the most authentic voices in jazz, regardless of the instrument," says bassist Gerald Veasley, who will be featured in the Pastorius tribute. "His voice was unmistakable. And he really changed how the instrument was played and the way the instrument was viewed."

Bassist Victor Bailey, who in 1982 replaced Pastorius in the fusion group Weather Report, says Pastorius "added another dimension" to bass playing. "I guess you can say there's a bass before and after Jaco. He made that large a contribution."

John Francis Pastorius III was born in 1951 in Norristown, Pa., and moved with his family to Fort Lauderdale, Fla., in 1959. His father, Jack, a drummer and singer, not only taught Jaco and his two younger brothers the rudiments of the drums but, according to Pastorius biographer Bill Milkowski, would take the two older sons to his shows and encourage them to join him onstage. Jaco, apparently already a budding showman, "jumped at the chance to get up in front of people and perform," writes Milkowski in "Jaco: The Extraordinary and Tragic Life of Jaco Pastorius, 'The World's Greatest Bass Player.' "

Playing drums, Pastorius formed his first band at age 13. Two years later he joined Las Olas Brass, a nine-piece horn band, but a sports injury had weakened his left wrist, forcing him to switch to electric bass.

He paid his dues working with local soul and R&B bands and in 1972 he joined soul shouter Wayne Cochran and the C.C. Riders. For 10 months he benefited from both the intense woodshedding of a five-sets-a-night, six-nights-a-week routine and the schooling of Charlie Brent, musical director of the band, who disciplined him into reading and writing music and the basics of arranging.

By all accounts, Pastorius, who traveled with his first wife and their daughter, didn't drink or do drugs in those years. He wasn't interested in anything except music.

In early 1973, he left the grind of the touring, returned to Fort Lauderdale and joined Graves's orchestra, the house band at Joe Namath's Bachelor's III club, accompanying visiting acts ranging from Nancy Wilson and Mel Torme to Charo. "After the first time you heard him, you knew he was something special," Graves recalled recently.

In 1975, he was discovered by drummer and producer Bobby Colomby, of Blood, Sweat and Tears fame, which led to an all-star self-titled debut album.

Then things began to really speed forward.

That same year he recorded a trio album with guitarist Pat Metheny and drummer Bob Moses ("Bright Size Life"), and in 1976 he joined Weather Report, arguably the premier jazz fusion band of that decade. But with enormous success came enormous pressure, and excesses -- all made worse by an undiagnosed mental illness.

"He didn't start wandering off the path until after he joined Weather Report and started to travel," says Graves. "The road is a tough place to be. It lends itself to abuse, and before he was diagnosed as manic-depressive, nobody knew that from a medical standpoint he was pouring gasoline onto the fire."

Pastorius left Weather Report in 1982. By then, his behavior had deteriorated dramatically. The stories are many, and they all have a sad, desperate undertone.

He had been working on a second solo album since 1980. Titled "Word of Mouth," it featured an ambitious, sprawling orchestra with which Pastorius seemed to be taking the soulful sound of the C.C. Riders into avant-jazz territory. The album was well received and the Word of Mouth band, 20 strong, debuted in New York in January 1982. Then came a brief, successful tour -- but by its end, Pastorius's condition had worsened.

"It reached that point where everything I loved about Jaco was not there," recalls Graves, who as a member of Word of Mouth endured many incidents. "It was painful to witness. You knew that there was something terribly wrong. We just didn't know what."

Pastorius's descent alternated sober, productive moments with a blur of arrests, self-destructive behavior, panhandling and a stay at Bellevue Hospital in 1986, when he was finally diagnosed as manic-depressive and placed on medication.

It proved too late.

In the early morning of Sept. 12, 1987, allegedly while drunk, Pastorius tried to force his way into an after-hours bar in Wilton Manors, a suburb of Fort Lauderdale, and got into a scuffle with the club's bouncer. He suffered a fractured skull; nine days later he was pronounced dead.

"Punk Jazz" takes a chronological approach, beginning on Disc 1 with a home recording of Pee Wee Ellis's "The Chicken" and a rough-and-ready live recording of the C.C. Riders, then following his development as a sideman and in collaborations with artists such as Metheny, Paul Bley and Joni Mitchell. (Pastorius was a member of her band for the album "Mingus" and the subsequent tour captured in "Shadows and Light.") The disc also includes "Birdland," a track from his glory days with Weather Report; the lyrical bass feature "Continuum" from his brilliant debut album; and a spirited live version of "Punk Jazz" by his Word of Mouth Big Band, recorded at a special event for his 30th birthday.

Disc 2 focuses mostly on Pastorius as composer, arranger and bandleader. It draws half its material from his "Word of Mouth" release, but it also includes a piece from the unfinished, never-released follow-up album "Holiday for Pans" and several tracks featuring the big band live in Japan, some of which had been previously unavailable in the United States.

The set is completed with a couple of late Pastorius recordings, one with guitarist Mike Stern (titled "Mood Swings"), one with drummer Brian Melvin. Both pieces, worthy on their merits, are particularly poignant in retrospect, given the artist's sad end just a few months later.

The anthology shows the remarkable range of Pastorius as both player and writer. His playing on "I Can Dig It Baby," accompanying singer and guitarist Willie "Little Beaver" Hale, builds on a funky, propulsive stutter, exact yet always nudging the groove forward. Barely a year later, on "Continuum," he displays a full repertoire of harmonics, chordal playing and impossible single-note runs while giving his lines a vocal quality, punctuating them with smears of sound. (Both approaches come together in tracks such as "Birdland.") Then, on "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat," he anchors the music while playing countermelodies that often suggest a dark, brooding commentary on Joni Mitchell's bright vocals.

The waltz "Three Views of a Secret," a modern standard, unfolds purposefully and with uncommon grace and subtlety, while "Liberty City" opens with a brass salvo setting a cocky strut, smart-alecky rather than threatening. "Word of Mouth" plays like an angry nightmare, but the suite-like "John and Mary," named for Pastorius's oldest children, has a luminous, joyful quality (listen for the vocal quality of his bass solo).

The tribute project, titled "Word of Mouth Revisited" and due in August, reexamines some of Pastorius's signature compositions such as "Continuum," "Punk Jazz" and "Havona," as well as his work as arranger and a couple of his favorite pieces written by others, such as Wayne Shorter's "Elegant People." It also features an impressive list of guest bass players including Bailey, Veasley, Marcus Miller, Jimmy Haslip and Victor Wooten as well as David Pastorius (Jaco's nephew), and Jaco Pastorius himself, from an old track with the big band (a live version of Herbie Hancock's "Wiggle Waggle"), superimposed on a re-recorded arrangement.

"With Jaco's music I think there's some energy that comes through. I always feel something that is pushing the envelope," says Graves. "What do I want people to get out of this? Just: Don't forget Jaco. He's really an important part of music today. Try to overcome the bad recordings, the crazy stories. I just want people to remember how good his stuff really is."

[Dennis Gonzalez]

In January of 1982, Jaco's Word of Mouth played here in Dallas. A college buddy of mine, also a trumpet player, El Buho (Gary Gazaway) was in the touring version of the band, and asked if I'd like to meet Jaco. I was in awe of Pastorius anyway and quickly agreed to go backstage and shake his hand. Backstage, Buho called out, "Hey, Jaco, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Dennis Gonzalez." Jaco snickered, shook my hand, and said with a shit-eating grin, "Eeet ees verry nice too meet yoo...yoo are Mexeeecan, rraaaiigght?" "It's good to meet you too, and yes, I am Mexican American." I said. I felt really disappointed and a bit upset, but Buho quickly pulled me away and said to me, "Don't worry about him. He's such a fine musician and really a beautiful cat, but something's wrong with him..."

I only stayed for a bit to be able to say I'd heard the great Jaco Pastorius play live, and walked out about thirty minutes into the set. I must say what I heard was brilliant.

Buho went on to tour with Airto and Flora's band after that. He played his horn on my LP "Witness" along with Prince Lasha, and recorded some tracks (playing trumpet and tuba)with Jaco , some of which included Airto and were finally released in 2000 in a compilation called "Rare Collection".

I was saddened to hear about Jaco's death. What a tragedy.

[steve(thelil)]

This is something I posted somewhere a long time ago.

Venue - The Front, New York City

Date - November 1986

I once had a memorable meeting with Jaco.

I once ended up at a place called "The Front" on 7th Ave, late one Thanksgiving night shortly before his death. Jaco was leading a jam session. They started playing an old R&B song, and attention seeking dork that I am, I started to sing loud hoping that Jaco would call me on stage. He did.

My wife and sister and friend (who were there) didn't see Jaco's gesture, and when I went onstage to sing, they thought I'd lost it once and for all. I sang the old Buddy Miles song "Them Changes" with the band, Jaco and I sharing my mike for the "yeahs".

When it was over, the owner brought us a round of drinks and the square- jawed guy who starred in Spike Lee's first film "She's Gotta Have It" (which was then-recent) came up to me and said "good job". I responded "Pinch me so I know this is real"

As I left the club, I reached out to shake Jaco's hand. He shook it limply. Then he saw I was the guy who had sung and he followed us out. We made small talk. He asked me my name. I said it was Steve and he told me that his mother's name was Stephanie. He then said I "was the only cat who knew what was going down." It sounds like quite a compliment, but I think he meant only that none of the guys on stage knew the words to "Them Changes".

I frequently consider this one of the high points of my life.

[Gentle Giant]

Funny, but from where I sit, I don't think there's any chance that Jaco will be forgotten, nor do I think people fret about a lack of quality as his health worsened. As far as electric jazz bass goes, only Stanley Clarke joins him in the upper loges of the pantheon, and then there are many excellent players below them who are greats and masters, most if not all of whom cite him as their main influence.

Nitpicker that I am, Jaco obviously was with Joni for more than an album and a tour, and while I don't have the track listing in front of me, if all it includes from her Joni days is Pork Pie, then I think the compiler was just plain lazy and missed out on some very fine, highly nuanced performances.

[joel]

I bought the Anthology album since I never owned a Jaco album. I'm enjoying it so far.

[gonzo]

i idolized the man and still do but i'm sorry to say that my experience with him was not very pleasant. it was at the 1985 playboy festival. jaco walked on stage during tito puente's set and totally disrupted the end of the set. word of mouth came out,
stern,alias,dennard,brown,foster,mustafa. the band started to play and jaco was just walking around laughing hysterically. he'd play a few notes and then go into total feedback, laughing the whole time. he'd just keep walking off and bringing people on stage and then go into feedback sounds. it got to the point that the band got pissed and walked off. at this point the crowd was booing and hissing at jaco. jaco went into a psychotic rage and started trashing all the equipment until cosby and security practically drug him off. this was during my drinking days and i got quite upset. a friend and i went down to the area behind the stage, jaco was skateboarding around and came over to give autographs. he started to fall over and a guy and i pushed him back up. i asked him if was okay and he flipped out and, excuse my french, told me to fuck myself. his brother and a guard grabbed him threw him in a van and drove him away. i wasn't angry or hurt, i was really sad. from what i've read psychotic episodes like this had become the norm at this time in his life on many stages around the world.that one of the great musicians of all time woul come to such a horrible end is still so sad to me. hes still one of my favorites of all time and i still listen to his music alot but what a sad ending he came to.

[mke]

It's odd that someone could be in such a state and no-one around him thinks that something is wrong enough to merit medical attention.

[Tom Storer]

When someone has a bipolar thing going on and is also drinking and doing drugs, it's easy to conclude it's the drink and drugs that are the problem. And even if you suspect some kind of mental illness, it's not always easy to convince the sufferer. When you say, "Perhaps you should seek professional help" and the person says "Fuck off" or "Mind your own business"... then what?

By which I mean to say, maybe people around him did want him to get medical attention but he didn't want to.

Changing the subject, I just want to put in a word for pre-Jaco and extra-Jaco strains of bass guitar playing. I'm thinking Swallow, Paul Jackson, Charles Ables or Jamaladeen Tacuma. I love Jaco too, but I often prefer non-Jaco style playing. He was the towering figure on bass guitar, but not the only figure.

(Then there was that guy who played great bass guitar with Sonny Rollins for a while, but switched to guitar guitar - can't think of his name. I thought he was a great bassist but an unexceptional guitarist.)

[Darryl G. Thomas]

I ordered the anthology based upon the article printed here. One thing that stuck out ws the business about Jaco being the last true innovator of the 20th century. I'm not too hip on innovators and such because I'm not amusician, but is that statement true?

[mke]

What's the difference between a true innovator and a fake innovator? Is it akin to the difference between a real Gucci and a fake Gucci, or more similar to the difference between an original Windows Office XP suite and an illegal copy thereof?

[redmango7]

No insult to Jaco or anyone who likes him, but I find his music ridiculous. I tried to like it, but the lead bass thing is just too much. Its like trying to drive a top fuel dragster around a small town.

[Gentle Giant]

Gee, how could anyone feel insulted to have his music termed "ridiculous" in a public forum?

If you don't get into his solo recordings, that's one thing, but if you're dissing his playing, then I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous.

[redmango7]

Hah! Some gentle giant you are! I agree that his music is terrible, but he without doubt had great technical ability.

[Jazzooo]

"One thing that stuck out ws the business about Jaco being the last true innovator of the 20th century. I'm not too hip on innovators and such because I'm not amusician, but is that statement true?"

Sounds like obvious hype to me. He was an innovator, though.

Redmango, what are you? 13? I hope you eventually get as bored with your silly "controversial" pronouncements as I'm getting with them.