Ain’t Necessarily So, the latest album from Andy Bey, has been
making frequent appearances on the top ten lists of music critics
everywhere. This is no small feat, especially for a live jazz trio
album recorded a decade ago.
On Ain’t Necessarily So, Bey weaves intricate band arrangements around his nimble voice, creating a fully orchestrated sound that fuses his lyrical singing with the angular slant of Ahmad Jamal and Thelonious Monk. His style is impressively varied; on “All The Things You Are,” he scats over a syncopated vamp, then lets loose on the melody, stretching it across the bar lines in a way that makes you think you’ve never heard the venerable standard before. He plays the title track slower than slow — “Ray Charles slow,” you might say. And on “If I Should Lose You,” Bey eschews vocals altogether, demonstrating why, for decades, he has been a first-call pianist. He seems to push, prod, and nearly taunt the band with his sly accompaniment — then infuse his solos with fluid bebop lines and atonal runs.
Bey began like so many of his fellow musicians, learning to play piano by ear. “When I was very young, I started playing boogie-woogie and other kinds of things on the piano, all by ear,” he tells me. “Much later on, when I was in my teens, I had a little training. In high school, we had basic theory and some harmony. But I was always playing for myself, from the time I started singing at the age of five. And then it just kept evolving as I got older.”
Bey has a long history of accompanying not just himself, but other notable vocalists as well. “One good way to learn how to accompany yourself is to play for other singers,” he says. “I played for my sisters [when I was a child]. Sometimes they would even take me out of my elementary school and have me play for them in their variety shows, especially my sister Salome. Later on I played for other singers around New York, as well as piano bars and different kinds of places.”
Such early musical experience gave Bey a strong foundation from which to develop his own creative voice. “I’ve always been able to accompany for some reason,” Bey continues. “I was told I had perfect pitch at a very young age — [it helped me] hear where the horn players were going, or where the singers were going. In fact, back during the ’60s, I did a whole lot of playing — sitting-in, jamming with other musicians, soloing and accompanying. And then I got to sit down and accompany myself doing little gigs around New York.
“When you’re playing in a club, it’s not about entertaining. They just want you to play for people to eat or talk. So you have to really develop your ability to sing softly and stay out of the way – and at the same time, fill the space up. My whole thing has always been about relating to space. That’s the whole trick on how to accompany yourself. You have to stay out of your own way. It’s about give and take.”
As well as playing piano for other singers, Bey has made a name for himself singing with some of the most celebrated pianists in jazz: Horace Silver, Fred Hersch, and Hank Jones, who Bey cites as a musical mentor. “I did a recording with my sisters years ago for RCA Victor in the early ’60s,” he continues. “Hank Jones was the pianist on the record date. He’s about as good as you can get, as far as I’m concerned. And he influenced me quite a bit.”
COLOR AND CONTRAST
Bey’s piano and vocal style relies on a constant current of musical contrast. “When I play and sing, you might hear maybe four bars of singing and no piano,” he tells me. “But it’s still implied. Or, you might hear some piano and no voice. Because I’m always trying to set myself up. It’s a rhythmic thing, and a space-oriented thing as well.”
His piano and vocal work flows like a good conversation, a musical dialogue between Bey and Bey. “When I’m playing solo without a rhythm section, I think like I still have them behind me. I think basically the same way — I play little vamps or figures — something to lean on and give the music a concept. So it’s like I’m still thinking about the drums and the bass, setting the music up as if they are there.”
TAKING CHANCES
Bey’s nearly half-century of success is due in no small part to his fearlessness on the bandstand. “I’ve never really been a person to worry about what the ‘right way’ to play is,” he says. “I never box myself in, and I’m still taking risks. There’s always stuff that I’m working on pianistically as well as vocally. You’re never too old or too young to keep growing and to keep taking chances. I’ve been interested in all kinds of things — twelve-tone rows, modern classical music, and skips and intervals for a long time. I’m working on a lot of things that I haven’t even begun to play [live] yet, and I’m always practicing.”
Bey has also made a name for himself off the bandstand as a much sought-after jazz vocal instructor in Austria; much of his advice for singers could be applied with great effect to piano as well. “I worked on all aspects of singing with my students: ear training, harmony, transposing vocal lines in all different keys. I also spent a lot of time working with them on the concept of singing ballads. They would come in wanting to scat and sing fast, and I would tell them, ‘You have to slow down. I don’t care how fast you want to sing a song. Sing it slow first.’ I wanted them to learn how to sustain notes and leave space in between them. It’s not about just getting up and doing it. You do it when you have the discipline to do it.”
FOR THE NEXT GENERATION
“Anybody can sit at home and play like a typewriter,” Bey says. “But to me, music is about adventure. I’m always interested in trying to grow, to do stuff that’s difficult for me.”
Bey offers the same advice to the next generation of musician that he gives himself on a regular basis. “You can’t let yourself get too disappointed about this or that,” Bey says. “If some things don’t come your way, you don’t really need them. There’s always something else to focus on to keep growing. That’s what it’s all about.”
For more on Andy Bey, visit
www.andy-bey.com.
Andy Bey’s Influences
Nat King Cole: Nat King Cole was really my hero from a long, long time ago, in terms of playing and singing a certain way. He had this soft sound, but then he had a way of playing little figures behind himself that was so hip, so swinging, and so tasty. And even though he became a big “pop star,” I don’t think he’s really given credit as the piano player he was. The way he accompanied himself was extraordinary.
Shirley Horn: I love her. I heard her back in 1960, when Miles Davis used to have her perform opposite him at the Village Vanguard.