JAZZTIMES.COM 35Bowie, Mick Jagger, Duran Duran,
and Madonna. As recently as 2013,
he stood in the spotlight again as
co-writer of Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky”
and “Lose Yourself to Dance”—two
of the most ubiquitous songs of that
year, collaborations with the faceless
electronic dance group and singer/pro-
ducer Pharrell Williams.
Through it all Rodgers maintained
a signature guitar style that betrays
the influence of both Dunbar’s train-
ing as well as guidance from his fellow
Chic co-founder, bassist Bernard
Edwards, initially a guitarist as well.
Rodgers credits the latter for help-
ing develop his syncopated rhythm
technique, all upbeat strumming of
fragmented chords and deft left-hand
muting: the choppy effect Edwards
called “chucking.” Favoring a Fender
Stratocaster once he set aside his hol-
lowbody Gibson, Rodgers opted for a
clean, uncluttered tone that created
a balanced effect when switching
between chords and single-note lines:
a sound still as recognizable and
influential as the dance-floor hits he
helped create.
In the nostalgia cycles that re-Wes Montgomery in the ’60s and
played a hollow-body Gibson. “It was
my jazz teacher, Ted Dunbar, who
taught me not to be a jazz nerd. He
was amazing—the way he thought
about music, about playing music as
a profession. A great player too—he
wound up replacing John McLaughlin
in Tony Williams Lifetime, before
Allan Holdsworth. I got to know Ted
because he was one of the two players
Dr. Billy Taylor had hired to teach
jazz guitar at Jazzmobile when I went
there; Roland Prince was the other
one. Ted was my mentor.”
Jazz is certainly not the first genre
that pops to mind when the name Nile
Rodgers is mentioned. On first meet-
ing the 66-year-old, it’s a challenge
to balance his humble beginnings
and the dizzying pop heights he’s
achieved. In the last years of the ’70s as
co-founder of Chic, he helped generate
a series of disco-era igniters that still
endure: “Everybody Dance,” “Dance,
Dance, Dance,” “Good Times,” “Le
Freak.” In the ’80s and ’90s, Rodgers
was the hot composer and producer of
hits, relied on by such pop headliners
as Sister Sledge, Diana Ross, DavidThere’s a story Nile Rodgers likes to
share. It was at the onset of the 1970s:
the precocious guitarist—still a teen yet
already with years of classical and jazz
training under his belt—was starting
to get calls for gigs. Some he fancied,
but one left him less than inspired and
his guitar teacher at the time noticed
“a sour look on my face and said, ‘Hey
Nile, what’s wrong, man?’ I said, ‘Well,
I’m doing a bullshit R&B/boogaloo gig
tonight.’ He said, ‘Wait—what do you
mean bullshit gig?’ I said, ‘I have to play
songs in the Top 40,’ and I specifically
referenced a song called ‘Sugar, Sugar’
by the Archies.”
His teacher’s response caught him
off-guard: “‘What makes you believe
that you’re the ultimate consumer?’
I looked at him and was befuddled
because he’s a straight-ahead jazz guy.
Then he said, ‘I just want to tell you
something—every single song that
makes it into the Top 40 is a great
composition. You know why? Because
it speaks to the souls of a million
strangers.’”
Rodgers still laughs at the irony
that such a lightbulb moment came
JIL from a guitarist who had subbed for
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