JazzTimes – October 2019

(Ben Green) #1
JAZZTIMES.COM 39

an R&B band and I got a big hollow-
body jazz guitar and we’re playing
funk, we’re playing pop, we’re playing
rock & roll, whatever was happening on
the charts. There’s this BBC documen-
tary [on Rodgers] called The Hitmaker,
and you hear Rob Sabino telling the
story about one day we’re playing “The
Boys Are Back in Town” and I have
to take solos that are feedback-y and
shreddy and dive-bomb, and then shift
to a funk tune like “Skin Tight.” You
sound silly doing that with a Barney
Kessel [guitar]—you got tape over your
F-holes so it doesn’t feed back, but it
still feeds back.
After I bought my Stratocaster I
still wanted to have a big Gibson, so
now I had enough money to buy a
secondary guitar.


Around ’75 you got involved with
disco. I’m guessing it had some-
thing to do with all the discos
opening up around the city.
It was just amazing—that time and
the spirit. I never was in a room full
of strangers that were so friendly in
my entire life. I was like, “Wow.” My
girlfriend and I would try to imitate the
dances that they were doing, like the
Hustle. There was this one club we’d
go to, I can’t remember the name but I
can tell you the exact location, it was in
the Village in my hood: 8 th Street and
Broadway, right on the corner where
there’s a BMT subway station. It used to
be a Steak & Brew which went defunct
and it turned into a disco, and it was
at that disco that I had a complete
metamorphosis and went from being
this person who was trying so hard to
compete and belong and be one of the
cats, to someone who could just walk
into a club and already was one of the
cats—we were all on the same level just
by walking in there, and that’s what
this music made me feel like.


After Chic blew up and you
became a producer, you had
a chance to work or play with
some big jazz names—like Al
Jarreau in ’86.
Al Jarreau, L is for Lover. I think that’s
maybe one of the best records I’ve ever
done. It’s amazing the way I got to play
on it, the way I got to ... I’m with Al
Jarreau, for god’s sake. Yes, we did do


our commercial single, “Moonlighting,”
but then we didn’t put it on the album
because we thought it would ruin our
great jazz record. Boy, was that a dumb
mistake, because “Moonlighting” got
so big and then people would’ve heard
our other stuff. We shot ourselves in
the foot.
I played a few jazz concerts over the
years. I never like to be a showoff guitar
player except when I’m playing with
other showoff guys. Then I love it. Like
if I get to play with John McLaughlin,
forget about it.

You have?
Oh, many times. That’s why we’re such
good friends. I’ve done at least three
or four live shows with John. I bring a
different thing to the jazz game because
I’m still a funk-jazz guy.
The gigs I’ve done with John have all
been sit-ins where it’s an all-star group.
Once it was me playing with his group
Shakti in Switzerland—we did a tele-
vision show. Then we did a thing with
Carlos Santana, Wayne Shorter, and
John at the Montreux Jazz Festival [in
2004]. That was ridiculous. I remem-
ber John being an awesome ping-pong
player. I’m going off topic here.

That’s okay. Anyone else?
Oh, Herbie Hancock! I’ve been on
records with Herbie, and one night he
was playing at the Vanguard in—prob-
ably early ’80s or maybe ’79, but I think
it was around the time I met Bowie.
Anyway, I sat in with Herbie and we
played “Stella [by Starlight]” and I had
never played like that in my life. He had
a television show on PBS [Rockschool]
for a minute and I remember him
talking about me one night, saying,
“There’s this cat Nile Rodgers. Don’t
count out this dude.” I couldn’t believe
it. Of course, I was in Chic and we
already had hit records, but ... Herbie
Hancock was on TV talking about me?

Tell us about the latest Chic
album, It’s About Time.
Since the start of Chic, every record has
had the same concept: We’re a brand-
new act, still an opening act for bigger
stars, so we still have to tell you the
name of the band. There’ll always be a
song that says, “We’re Chic and this is
our new show.” And that’s how this new
album starts—the first thing we let the
public hear is “Till the World Falls,”
with the intro: “You are now listening
to ... CHIC!”
I always believe that the concept of
a live show is a real performance—live
instruments, voices—and that’s what
we live for. The record is a snapshot of
what we actually do on stage, so if you
come and see us you’ll see what I’m
talking about.

There’s a lot of guitar on the
album, and not just those signa-
ture rhythm licks—I’m thinking
of your solo on the title track.
I think this is the most self-indulgent
record I’ve ever done except for my first
solo album [Adventures in the Land
of the Good Groove, 1983], which was
absurdly self-indulgent, so much so
that I’m almost embarrassed. On this
record I brought back Chic alumni,
like Philippe Saisse, who was with me
the night Bernard died [in 1996], and
we wrote a song together and it’s more
showoff-y than I usually play.
This album is also about healing. In
a weird way, I needed to get it out of my
system. I’m the only original member
left, and after surviving cancer a couple
of times, losing so many friends, having

“Somebody


walked up


behind me and


tapped me on


my shoulder and


says, ‘I hear what


you’re doing,


youngblood.’


I turn around
and it’s Harold

Mabern, and


he’s making like


he’s playing the


chords to ‘I Want


Your Love.’”

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