‘I play my music the way I play my music’
A talk with the very Jewish and confident Kenny G.
Guy walks into a record store and asks, “Where do you keep the Kenny G. records?” Clerk says, “Under difficult listening.” Guy says, “Don’t you mean easy listening?” Clerk says, “Hey, dude. To each his own.”
Or:
Kenny G, walks into an elevator and says, “Hey, this place really rocks.”
Cruel Kenny G. jokes? Hardly, since you’ll find them in the introduction to “Life in the Key of G,” a memoir by the aforementioned jazz saxophonist (with Philip Lerman). It is fun, honest, occasionally self-deprecating, and very, very Jewish.
We Zoom as he prepares to leave his L.A.-area home for a book signing at Bookends in Ridgewood. He’s just finished a three-hour practice session, followed by some cardio, and breakfast awaits.
But first, the Jewish Standard.
Kenneth Gorelick, who was born in 1956, grew up in a Jewish family in Seattle. As he notes in the book, “We weren’t a very religious family by any means, but being part of a Jewish household played an important role in my life.”
His mom, Evelyn, forced him to continue in Hebrew school even after his bar mitzvah, which he attended reluctantly, consenting to go only because he had a crush on one of the girls in the class.
Passover was his favorite holiday, and “since I was the best at reading Hebrew, the job of [reading the Four Questions] often fell on my shoulders. I guess that was my first time being on stage, and I think it helped prepare me for what was soon to come.”
Asked how Jewish influence impacted his career, he said “I didn’t hear a lot of music growing up. My parents didn’t play music in the house. Going to synagogue, I’d only hear the songs like for the High Holidays. I don’t think that affected the way I wrote my music, but there’s something in my DNA that connects to melodies like that.”
It particularly showed through in two of his pieces: “Esther,” for his grandmother, who always hosted seders, and “Eternal Light,” for his father, Maurice, who was always supportive of Kenny’s ambitions and gave him money to buy recording equipment.
They have that “heartfelt, Eastern European kind of vibe,” he said. “I just have it. And I don’t know why I have it.”
Kenny attempted piano lessons, but he hated it. Sometime around the age of 9, he saw a sax player on the “Ed Sullivan Show” and decided that’s the instrument he wanted to play. His parents said sure.
In the book, Kenny writes he’s tired of the stereotypical Jewish family as portrayed in movies like “The Jazz Singer” or “Funny Girl,” where parents fight their children when they want to go into show business or the arts. “So to be the poster boy for what a real Jewish family is all about — parents who love and support their children — means a lot to me.”
Around his senior year in high school, Kenny “recognized that I was better than everybody else” as a musician, he said. It wasn’t brashness or overconfidence, but the times. “There was no Internet or computers or cell phones. So I couldn’t reach out and see what was happening in the world. All I could do is compare myself to the people in my high school band.”
But others agreed. While still in high school he was recommended to sit in with Barry White, whose Love Unlimited Orchestra was on tour and playing in Seattle. “They told me to wear a suit. I know now they meant a black suit. But the only suit I owned was my bar mitzvah suit, which consisted of a plaid jacket, maroon pants, and a white shirt with a maroon tie. Those were the only dress clothes I owned.”
Barry White was not a one-off. In college, the band director recommended Kenny for gigs with Liberace, the Ringling Brothers Circus, Sammy Davis Jr., and others. “There was something there that was special enough to separate me from all the other players, which is why I got those gigs,” he said.
(Another big gig, albeit this time once he became successful, was being invited back to his old synagogue to blow the shofar on Yom Kippur. It required a different embouchure, or mouth grip, that he was used to, he said — but “I was able to figure it out.”)
In addition to the sound, he ultimately developed the look. And by the look of course we mean his signature locks, which cascade down to his shoulder.
The combination helped make him one of the best-selling recording artists of all time, with more than 75 million discs sold.
Of course, then he did what all Jewish artists do: he recorded a Christmas album.
The idea came from Kenny’s mentor, record impresario Clive Davis. When Davis proposed the idea, Kenny wondered, “What do I know about a Christmas album?” To which Davis replied: “We’re both Jewish. Irving Berlin was Jewish and he wrote ‘White Christmas.’” So Kenny recorded a Christmas album, and composed and performed a Chanukah song that’s on that album.
In any event, his success as a recording and tourisng artist brought out the snipers and critics. “Some people may say that my music is not jazz,” he said. “Or they might say that all the struggling jazz musicians — and in my day, most of them were Black — are not having the success you’re having, and that’s not fair.”
His response: “I play my music the way I play my music. If people respond to that, and they don’t respond to someone else, I’m not to blame.
“I never looked for commercial success. Fortunately, it worked out that way. So lucky me.”
But I persist in my questions. It must hurt you, I say. “Sure, I read something negative in the paper, well, that’s going to hurt my feelings. But ultimately, I know it’s not true, so I’m not going to let it bother me.
“Also, I’ve had great reviews, too, and I’ve had to learn not to let that inflate my ego.”
Kenny is 68 and still goes out on the road. Amy thoughts of retiring? “No. This morning when I was practicing, I can tell you that I played my saxophone better than ever.”
I wondered if at some point his daily three-hour practice regimen might be counterproductive. “I don’t think so,” he said. “There was this famous violin player or cello player, I can’t remember his name.” After some discussion, we agree that most likely it was Pablo Casals. “He was like in his 90s and world famous, and in an interview he said, ‘I still practice three hours a day.’ And his little joke was, ‘You know, a couple of weeks ago, I started to notice a little improvement.’
“So to answer your question, this morning when I did my three hours of practicing, there were a couple of times where I said, ‘You know what? I’m getting better at this.’”
comments