Every Possible Inflection and Pitch
Meeting Wayne Shorter Backstage at the Ryman Auditorium
Painting: The Quintet—Miles, Herbie, Wayne, Ron & Tony. Acrylic on Canvas, ©2021, Charlie Peacock
In 1997, at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, I brought my teenage son Sam backstage to meet pianist Herbie Hancock and saxophonist Wayne Shorter. The two legends had just performed a sublime set of duets. This was Sam’s homeschool. Nothing turns the light on, creates the ah-ha moment like being in the presence of greatness. Bela Fleck and Jeff Coffin, two of Nashville’s remarkable improvisers, were backstage, too. I introduced myself to Herbie. We had history, which I wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d remember.
Decades earlier I’d spent a day with Herbie at a pre-production rehearsal for trumpeter Eddie Henderson’s album, Mahal.
Backstage at the Ryman, Herbie Hancock saw that my young son Sam was carrying a drumhead.
“Whatcha got there, man?”
Sam showed him the Remo drum head the late drummer, Tony Williams, had signed for him 10 years earlier in Sacramento at the Crest Theatre. Drummer Aaron Smith and I had taken Sam to hear Tony’s band. Sam must’ve been 7 years old.
“Would you sign this for me?” Sam asked Herbie.
“No man, you don’t want me to put my name on there. That’s Tony Williams.”
“I know,” Sam argued. “It’ll be even better if you and Wayne sign it, too.”
Herbie smiled wide and nonchalantly passed the drumhead over to Wayne.
“Check it out, man.”
“Anthony Williams,” said Wayne, nodding his head slowly. “Anthony Williams. Anthony Williams.” And he kept on. He must have said Anthony Williams ten or twelve times in every possible inflection and pitch. It was like he was composing a follow-up to “Nefertiti.”
“Anthony Williams. Anthony Williams. Anthony Williams.”
Eventually both men signed it, but not before Wayne told some Anthony Williams stories. He especially delighted in recalling how at just 17, Tony was playing with Miles Davis. According to Wayne, people just didn’t understand what Tony was doing on the drum kit.
“Couldn’t get no respect. Just like Coltrane in Philly. Coltrane was like Jesus—couldn’t get NO respect in his hometown!”
No problem here Wayne. Nothing but respect. Thank you for a life of remarkable artistry and music. Well done.