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Jazz Articles: The Unbreakable Spirit of Victor Bailey
Jazz Articles: The Unbreakable Spirit of Victor Bailey
jazztimes.com
Victor Bailey landed his dream job in 1982 when, still in his early
20s, he succeeded Jaco Pastorius to become the last in the line of
stellar electric bassists in his favorite band, Weather Report. He
stayed with Weather Report until cofounders Joe Zawinul and
Wayne Shorter disbanded it in 1986, performing on the albums
Procession, Domino Theory, Sportin’ Life and This Is This!, then
continued working with Zawinul in his groups Weather Update and
the Zawinul Syndicate. Bailey also toured and/or recorded through
the years with numerous other big names from the worlds of jazz
and pop—Sonny Rollins, Ron Carter, Steps Ahead, Madonna and
Lady Gaga among them—racking up appearances on more than
1,000 albums.
Victor Bailey: It’s named for three French doctors who isolated it in
the late-1800s. Basically it’s muscular dystrophy. There are many
different kinds of muscular dystrophy; saying “muscular dystrophy”
is like saying “cancer.” It’s genetic. My grandmother had it, and my
father, and one of my father’s brothers. There are different forms of
the disease. I have type 1, there’s 1A, there’s type 2, there’s a
bunch of different types, mostly characterized by loss of muscle. I
have very little muscle on my leg at all, and now I’m starting to lose
the muscles in my hands and arms. So it’s been developing. I was
functioning normally. I started falling 25 years ago. I would just
trip—not often, but just out of the blue sometimes I would trip and
be on the ground. And I knew what it was because the disease was
in my family. So my legs have been getting progressively weaker
for the past 25 years. Only in the last year my upper body has
started to fail me. My father didn’t have problems with his upper
body until he was in his ’70s. He’s a saxophone player and he
stopped playing at maybe 77 or 78. I wasn’t expecting my arms and
hands to start going bad for another 20 years. I basically can’t even
play right now.
The bass player quit the band. I told the bass player, “Well, can I
hold your bass?” I picked it up and I could just play all the songs—
better than that guy. And my dad, who never came downstairs while
I was playing with my friends, came downstairs and said, “Who’s
that playing bass?” He said, “You should be a bass player.” I was
actually filling and improvising. I could pretty much pick up and play
any instrument, but the bass, for reasons I don’t even know, I just
felt really connected with it. Once I picked it up I never put it down.
And has it always been electric bass? Have you ever played
acoustic?
You went to Berklee because you couldn't get into the Navy
because you had asthma.
I was gonna do the Navy, man, and then you do your four years
and you have your scholarship money. But because I had asthma I
was rejected from the Navy. When I got home from the recruiting
office my dad said, “Hey, there's a letter over there for you,” and it
was from Berklee, saying I had been accepted to Berklee. So that
was almost like a stroke of God. I'm not even religious, but fate, or
whatever you want to call it.
Those were the days when a lot of you would go there for a
year or two and then drop out and turn pro.
At that time, if you could play you were doing gigs every single
night. [If] somebody in school got a gig with somebody in New York,
when they needed a bass player or a drummer they’d say, “Hey, I
got a friend up at Berklee.” And it’d be guys like Branford and
myself, we’d been gigging since we were little kids. You were
actually qualified to go to New York and do those gigs. I’ve got
students now who can play the mess out of the bass instrument
[but] there’s no gig I could send them on. They don’t have the
experience.
How does a guy like you, who’s come from the bandstand, try
to teach that to student musicians?
I always have them study things that are music. If we're studying
theory, modes—like we're studying the Dorian mode—well, I have
them learn to add “So What?” It's a minor scale with a major sixth.
So I always have them learn a song alongside whatever we study.
And I always have them play, I make them play for me before every
lesson. I make them find songs every week. Find a song that has
this lesson in it. Come back next week and I want to hear you play
the song. Then I just encourage them to play with people. Now, in
their era they can play with the computer, and they can all play with
the phone. When I ask them to play something, they want to pull
out their iPhone and find a track. Every week, the first thing I ask
them is, “Did you play with anybody?” And half of them didn't. And
I'm like, “There's 4,000 students here and you guys don't play
Are you paying attention to the current scene? Are there good
electric bassists coming along now?
Well, I learned it faster because I was playing with grown men when
I was a little kid, and because my father was a serious,
accomplished musician. Philadelphia was not a town where you
could have chops and no feeling and get on the bandstand. If you
weren't swinging, cats were not into it. Guys would be like, “Yeah,
you soloed great but then you soloed through my whole solo.” It
hurt my feelings when I was a kid, but by the time I was a teenager
I thought I was the greatest bass player at the time, long before
that. I fit in because I could. When I was 10 I could fit in with
anybody.
I thought I was the greatest bass player that there was, at the time.
Needless to say I wasn’t, but I thought I was the man. Most of what
I did came out of listening to Weather Report records anyway. I got
the gig because of Omar Hakim. I was in New York at the time
working with Hugh Masekela, and he used to be married to Miriam
Makeba. So we did some gigs with Miriam every now and then, and
then around ’82 I did two gigs at Carnegie Hall with Miriam, and
Omar was on drums. That second night he said, “I have the gig with
Weather Report, and Jaco left the band. Send Joe Zawinul your
tape.” [Zawinul] called me a couple of days later. He didn’t have my
tape yet, and he said, “Well, you’re the guy I’m going to hire. I can
feel it.” Once he and Wayne got the tape, they liked the tape—it's a
cassette, that's how long ago we're talking about.
I think it was the first time we played together, and he says, “You’re
like the girl who left a shadow on your drawer, but once you went to
get it, it wasn’t there.” Thirty-three years later I still don’t know what
he meant by that. But he says he meant, “You sound great, man.”
So I guess it’s a compliment. At the time I didn’t know the guy; I
didn’t know he was so interesting.
Omar Hakim, that's your guy. You've done a lot of stuff with
him.
Oh, yeah, Omar and I—maybe I'm not supposed to say this— we’re
one of the classic rhythm sections. Certain rhythm sections: Rocco
[Prestia] and Dave Garibaldi from Tower of Power, Peter [Erskine]
and Jaco, and Lenny [White] and Stanley, Philly Joe Jones and
Paul Chambers. There are just certain rhythm sections that work
well together.
I've got one. I think it was the first time we played together, and he
says, “You're like the girl who left a shadow on your drawer, but
once you went to get it, it wasn't there.” And, 33 years later, I still
don't know what he meant by that. But he says that he meant, “You
sound great, man.” So I guess it’s a compliment. But isn't there like,
Pinocchio or something, there's a little pixie who can't find her
shadow? I have no idea. That never left me, I never forgot it. I'm
sure he said a bunch of other crazy stuff, but that's the one I always
remembered. At the time I didn't know the guy, I didn't know he was
so interesting.
Everyone’s got Zawinul quotes. Mine was Joe telling me, “Bailey,
you know I’m a better composer den Beethoven.” Then he says,
“Well, maybe not better, but I’m up dere.” I think my all-time favorite
Weather Report story was the first time we played in Philadelphia,
my mom, she didn’t really know anything about fusion but she loved
Omar Hakim. We’re sitting in the dressing room—Joe Zawinul,
Wayne Shorter, myself, Mino Cinelu, Omar Hakim—and my mother
said, “Now, all of you guys can play. But that one on the drums, now
he’s good.”
I don't remember it. He probably didn't know it. He's one of those
people like Miles Davis or Ron Carter who, to people who don't
know him, he probably seems very rough and tough. But if you
know them, and they care about you, they're the lovingest people in
the world. Joe took extremely good care of me, until the day he
died. He was always very, very good to me. And he was funny. If I
could get people to say those quotes, he was a funny guy.
Did you play with all those bands that followed Weather
Report?
I'm the only musician—not only bass player—I’m the only musician
who was with every band he had. Weather Update, Zawinul
this other bass player calls to say, “You should have called me to
play on that.”
Oh, yeah. But Ron was always very nice to me, like since I was a
teenager when they would ask in magazines what electric bass
players were really good, he would always say Marcus Miller and
me. And he always told me, when I got an upright, “I got a spot for
you”—meaning he had a lesson open. Every guy in New York's
trying to get lessons from Ron, and they never can. So I bought an
upright about five years ago and started taking lessons with him.
Called him up, said, “Mr. Carter, you told me when I got a bass to
come see you.” And a bunch of upright players call me asking,
“How you get lessons from Ron?” But I took a few lessons from
him. Matter of fact, when I played in New York, when I was 19 with
Hugh Masekela, he was in the club and he said, “Young man, you
sound good. I never heard anybody on the electric bass like that.
You know how to play over chords real good. Come by my house
one day and let me show you how to play the bass.”
Every now and then you get the kid who has illusions about pop
and all that, but I remind him, first thing, that every jazz artist isn’t a
great musician. There were many times on a jazz gig or recording
that I was just waiting to get my check and go home. I played with
Madonna, Omar Hakim was on the drums, Michael Bearden and
Jai Winding on keyboards, Paul Pesco on guitar and Luis Conte on
percussion. That’s one of the all-time best bands I ever played with.
By far. That band was kick-ass. You know, me and Omar, we made
a record with the O’Jays. It was later in the O’Jays' career so it was
not one of their biggest records, but me, Omar, Richard Tee on
piano and organ, and I forgot who played guitar—one of those guys
who's like a big studio musician. But it was a kick-ass record.
People want to know why you would play with the O’Jays.
Obviously you're not going to improvise because those guys are
singing, but anybody wants to talk to me about that—listen to
Anthony Jackson's bass line on “For the Love of Money.” You know
what I mean? It's not jazz, it's not improvised—it's one of the
greatest things anybody ever did. Some of the students have that
sort of [negative attitude toward pop], but most of the dudes aren’t
there to be jazz guys. They live in a different era now. I make all of
them study jazz. I think everybody should study jazz because it has
everything in it. But I think the beauty of Berklee is that we don’t
discourage a student from anything. If a kid wants to be a hip-hop
artist, that’s fine with me. You’re gonna be a hip-hop artist who
knows what a C-major-seventh is when I get finished with you.
I don’t know. I’m gonna try. Right now I’m not even strong enough
to pick it up. Right now I literally can’t play at all, because my hands
don’t function and my arms aren’t strong. I can’t hold my arms up
more than just a couple of minutes.
I saw the artwork you do on your website. How long have you
been doing that?