RAY BROWN TRIBUTE
Two Weeks from Life to Memory
 
 
            Ray Brown was to teach for two days and be honored at our Seventh Annual Golden Gate Bass Camp Jazz Course in a 75th Anniversary Concert entitled ‘Everybody Loves Ray.’ John Clayton was to be the surprise guest host for a packed audience including over 80 enthusiastic bass students, faculty, and staff.  Then the world was shocked by the news of Ray’s untimely death on Tuesday July 2nd in Indianapolis, Indiana, where he passed away during a nap after a golf game.  He had been resting up for his evening performance at the Indianapolis Jazz Kitchen.

            Only three days prior, I spoke with Ray about hiring a rhythm section to assist in his teaching and performances at the bass camp.  His response was: “We bass players don’t need ANYBODY to assist us—if we can’t play alone on stage by ourselves, then we don’t deserve to be there. I don’t want ANY assisting drummers or pianists. We don’t need 'em!”  Those were the last words I heard from him.

            While vacationing with my wife, Mary, in Napa, California, for my last free days before final preparations for the camp, I received a call from the media publicist who was promoting our ‘tribute concert.’  She told me that Ray had passed away the previous evening.  It was one of those times in history I will never forget.  The legendary bassist, with boundless energy, stamina, and the consummate artist who constantly circled the globe with his spirit and love for music, was gone. It seemed like Ray’s contemporaries could not keep up with his concert schedule, which may be why Ray loved to play with ‘kids’—young gifted pianists like Geoff Keezer, Benny Green and Larry Fuller.

            David Murray, President of the International Society of Bassists and professor at Butler University in Indianapolis, was also to teach and play at our camp and was one of the few privileged souls who heard Ray’s last set at the Indianapolis Jazz Kitchen.  David only lives five minutes from the club and came for Ray’s second set, which started at 10:30 p.m. He told me he could have waited until next day (he was scheduled to play two nights:

However something told me to go that night. There were only about forty people in the club.  I remember the trio playing Gershwin's "But Not For Me," one of my favorites. It was very slow and incredibly beautiful and intimate.  After the performance I told Ray how much I enjoyed the Gershwin. Ray was in great spirits. I remember his last visit to Indy when he didn't look as good to me and seemed more tired. I commented that I would see him in the Bay Area the next week, where he was to play at Yoshi's in Oakland and then come to Barry Green's "Golden Gate Bass Camp" where I would be teaching and performing. He was all set for the trip. As I left the club, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting up there in years (and that he was sounding so good!), and wouldn't it be awful if he were to pass away while on the road. I put that thought out of my head as quickly as possible and felt badly for even thinking it. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was very privileged to hear Ray's final notes. That is a memory I will always cherish.

            Hearing the news of Ray’s sudden passing, students, parents, teachers and colleagues shook their heads in disbelief.  Ray represented invincibility to the young and old.  I believe Ray was loved and admired by so many because he embodied so many qualities that we all would love to have ourselves.  Ray spoke for everyone when we needed an authority that knew the correct jazz harmony, history, or way to play a tune.  Ray told everybody what to do. Ray let you know if you were right or wrong.  He told it how it was, leaving no doubts as to what he thought.  And when he played his bass, he came on like a gangbuster.  He not only drove the rhythm section; he gave it a burst of energy that felt like being in a sports car being pushed by a bulldozer!  When he took a solo, it was like a horse galloping out of the gate—he started and ended full steam and you could only watch, listen, and enjoy in amazement.  He told us what was ‘on the plate’ and he served it with aplomb.  He took the center stage and played his bass with an imagination and presence that made his playing easily identifiable on any recording.

It is easy to dismiss Ray as a gifted artist who was just ‘born to play the bass.’  But those close to Ray knew that his incredible professional success was not just based on talent but on hard work.  Ray’s lifetime protégée, John Clayton, has also been a close friend of mine for almost 40 years.  John was like Ray’s ‘son’ as a young boy and as a young bassist.  John recalled Ray saying: “People think this stuff comes easy to me … well that’s bullshit, I PRACTICE!”  And he did.  John witnessed Ray’s technical and musical growth until he died.  Ray would ask John things about the bow.  “Show me that thing you did with the bow.”  John would look with his mouth open and say “What are you talking about?  You’re Ray Brown!”  Ray would get upset with John and say “Dammit, we can all learn something from each other … show me how you do that!”  And Ray would not only take it in, he would practice it.  John recalled some older recordings of Ray’s early bowed solos with Oscar Peterson, it was pretty embarrassing.  But if you listen to his work with the bow in the last 10 years, you will notice a remarkable improvement.  He got everything he could from everyone, including taking some lessons with the legendary French bass virtuoso François Rabbath.  He was a life-long learner.  Ray would be brutally honest when young aspiring bassists would ask him for his secrets to success or how he mastered his technique.  The answer never included short cuts—it was all about hard work and integrity. This was Ray’s way.

John and Ray’s wife, Cecilia, were completely responsible for the planning of the memorial service.  Ray’s next engagement was to teach at our Golden Gate Bass Camp jazz course and be honored at a 75th Birthday tribute concert hosted by John Clayton. With all the chaos around Ray’s sudden passing, John still found the time to answer personal phone calls, e-mails, and faxes, making everybody else feel as if they were the most important while he dealt with the biggest crisis of his life.  In only a few days, John arranged for a memorial service, hosted by actor Brock Peters, and with eulogies by John, Frank Capp, Jeff Hamiliton, and Quincy Jones.

I led a group of eight teachers from the Northern California Bass Camp to Burbank for the Forest Lawn Memorial.  We all baked in the overflowing chapel at the Church of the Hills in 100+ degree heat.  Christian McBride and Lalo Schiffrin, were among the pallbearers who flew in from Europe, as well as others who came from all over the world.  Telarc executives, friends, and entertainment icons were in attendance while flowers and messages were sent from dignitaries around the world, including Oscar Peterson and former President Bill Clinton and family.

Ray told John Clayton that when his time came, he didn’t want people to mope around. He wanted a celebration with lots of music and a big party, and that’s just what he got.  At first it was difficult to break the somber mood in the chapel, until Frank Capp welcomed the packed house of “friends, family, musicians, and drummers.’  Then the stories began.

Jeff Hamilton recalled a golf outing with Frank Capp when Ray forgot to bring his golf shoes and showed up with outrageous funky-looking hiking boots. Jeff and Frank were having a field day ribbing Ray about his ‘golf attire.’  Frank stepped up to the first tee and flubbed his ball 75 yards to the left.  Jeff Hamilton's shot was equally misguided and veered off 100 yards to the right.  And then Ray ‘clip-clopped’ up to the tee in his hiking boots and hit the longest shot they'd ever seen from him.  The ball hadn’t even hit the ground when Ray turned to his colleagues, their mouths dropped in amazement, and said: “I guess y’all are going to get some of these hiking boots tomorrow ... aren’t you!”  After hearing this story, the atmosphere in the church changed from mourning to admiration and then to gratitude and love for having known Ray Brown.  The highlight of the service was a moving tribute to all the lessons John Claytonreceived from Ray Brown.  John said: 

Today is a celebration of this man we loved, the man that gave us such big, fat, rich, warm, juicy, chocolate, delicious, gorgeous brown bass notes. And, of course, he gave us much more.  He reached inside himself and gave whatever he had to give from his soul.I had starry eyes when I was a teenager studying with Ray.  I would follow him around to recording sessions and see people like Bill Cosby, Quincy Jones, Sweets Edison….  I wanted to be just like Ray when I grew up.  So I asked him at a session: "When I’m done with college, do you think you can help me do this sort of thing, become a studio musician?" I got 'The Look' times ten, and curse words I never knew existed. "Are you out of your F-in’ mind?  You wanna play this horse manure?"  And then he went into his little girlie high-pitched voice and said:   "You can’t even play the bass and you want to waste your time playing whole notes and kissing ass all day?! You need to learn how to play the bass from the top to the bottom.  Then you need to get out and play some music.  Then when you’re done, if you want to play this garbage it’ll be here. One of his pet peeves was when he would spill his guts, play from his heart, and the audience would sit on their hands.  It was as if they were not hip enough to applaud.  He couldn’t stand that!  I say, ladies and gentlemen, that we take a moment out to show our appreciation to Ray.  He has played his last bass solo for us—it was a lifetime of a bass solo and we all listened in and grooved along with it.  So now, as Ray would want us to do, so that he can look down and take a bow, let us applaud his solo and the love and life that he gave us.  Let us stand and applaud like we’ve never applauded before.  Let us applaud so that Dizzy and Bird and Milt and Monk and Trane will raise their eyebrows in amazement.  Let us applaud because we love him as much as he loved us.  Ladies and gentlemen, the maestro, the baddest, let’s hear it for Ray Brown. The roar of the chapel could likely be heard for miles. 

There wasn’t a dry eye  in the house. After a beautiful musical reception hosted by the Brown Family at the Sportsman Lodge in Sherman Oaks, I returned with my bass camp colleagues, determined to share the legacy and spirit of Ray Brown.  The faculty shared stories with the camp students so they would clearly understand that Ray’s presence would be known in the music and bass world for eternity. 

Our Memorial Tribute concert on Saturday included video clips of Ray’s brilliant playing interspersed by faculty performing works in honor of him.  John Clayton played with Kristin Korb and was then joined by Ruben Rogers and Jeff Chambers, the two bassists who played and taught for Ray at Yoshi’s jazz club and at our Jazz course.  The three bassists electrified the audience with their artistry and magnificent stagepresence.  Other faculty artists performed tributes to Ray, including Diana Gannett, David Murray, Pat Klobas, Richard Duke, Ed and Devon Williams, Mandy Flowers (guest), David Young and myself.  The program concluded with John Clayton joining 65 camp participants in Ray Brown's "Blues in the Basement." 

Just prior to the final number, we listened to a video taped recording of Ray Brown’s 'thank you' speech from his 70th Birthday Party Tribute that was held in the same Sportsman Lodge as his Memorial Reception.  Ray accepted the adulation and love of the hundreds in attendance when he said:

I have a problem speaking without a bass in my hand. (laughter) I got to tell you this is overwhelming.  This is much bigger than I could have ever dreamed it being.… I want to thank the organization, because it's nice when you honor people before they leave.  I think it is very important. (long applause…very long…)  Second, I want to thank all of you who have come here tonight— ahh…it’s too much. I can’t express it – it is too much.  Thank you for coming.  Thank you for being here.  Last, but not least I want to thank my wife who has done so much for me for me for so many years…(long applause…. Ray asks Cecilia to stand up)…the only thing I can tell you is, I’m going to play it (the bass) till I drop .…(cheers and applause…)

John Clayton took a deep breath, shaking his head, and said quietly, “And that’s just what he did”.  After the concert, John spent another hour with the camp participants on stage, sharing his insights into music, jazz, and life, reflecting on his time with Ray Brown.  He told of the endless things that Ray did for John when he was young: free lessons, bought him a bass, got him many musical jobs and opened doors that would not have been possible otherwise.  John asked Ray how he could ever repay him for all the good he has done.  Ray’s response was for John to take his knowledge and gift of music and pass it on to someone else.  It is a gift that compounds and we all have the responsibility to pass it on.  This is the gift that started with Ray, who has blessed everyone he has encountered with the joy of music and the joy of life.  And now Ray is no longer here to share this gift.  It is our job to continue his legacy and to pass it on.  Thank you, Ray, and thank you, John, as we keep Ray’s spirit alive in this joy of music and life.