When I was a kid back in 1944,
there was a right way to do it.
There was a way to do it.
You know,
you either do it or you wouldn't do it.
You see what I mean?
There was a feeling.
There was a certain feeling that those guys liked,
and that was it.
When you hear it,
you know what it is,
but you listen to Donald Lambert,
James P. Fats
the Lion,
and all these guys,
and on and on,
and Basie,
and Ellington,
they had a certain
it.
And as far as those guys were concerned,
if you didn't have that it,
you could be playing
gompas 90 miles an hour,
but you weren't striding.
It was a certain characteristic flavor to the
music,
and the only way to define it is to tell you to go listen to it.
People think
that just because I play stride piano,
I must sit around listening to records and things.
When I was a kid, all those guys were around.
If I wanted to hear James P. Johnson, I'd
get down to the village and buy a beer and listen to him.
And I played opposite him in
many concerts.
And Willie the Lion,
of course,
was around until the late 60s. I mean,
it
wasn't a big archaeological expedition
when I was a kid to go hear these guys.
All you
had to do is want to do it.
And when all the other people my age were up listening to Bud
Powell at Birdland,
it was the latest thing,
I was down listening to Willie the Lion in
the village,
or Art Hodes,
or James P. Johnson,
or Joe Sullivan,
or many,
many other people.