Happy Birthday Clifford
I became serious about playing the trumpet at age 12.
My teacher was John Longo. At our first lesson he played two albums: the Chicago Symphony’s performance of Ravel-Mussorgsky’s ‘Pictures at an Exhibition’ (Adolph Herseth principal trumpet) and Clifford Brown with Strings.
“Lil brother, that’s what a trumpet should sound like.”
I listened to that Clifford w Strings everyday and learned every note on it. Basin Street and Brown and Roach Inc. and anything with Clifford is inspirational. His sound has such warmth, clarity, and pure intelligence—humanity. You have to love him. We have a picture of Branford at about 2yrs old in diapers holding a copy of Clifford and Max on Basin Street. In high school Book and I loved to play Powell’s Prances and I loved Time and Sweet Clifford and Joy Spring and everything.
Damn! Clifford can play. Those recordings were rare in the early 70’s. I remember my high school band director, George Marks (he was a trumpet player), borrowed my fathers Clifford and Max records. He didn’t want to give them back! He said, “listening to these are like finding treasure.” Yeah. Even though the music is available everywhere now, it is still treasure.
Clifford’s son Clifford Jr. is a pure credit to his memory and one of the greatest friends jazz has ever had. He brings a feeling and a soul to every occasion. His way of being extends his father’s lyrical legacy of kindness (the most eloquent of all human actions). Every note from Clifford’s horn is a gem. I love him and everyone who loves music loves him. Happy Birthday Clifford.
Yeah. Keep playing.