Geoff Gehman, February 2013

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW

        Eric Mintel is taking liberties with “Take Five,” the jazz anthem minted by the late Dave Brubeck, his hero and friend. The pianist stretches the sublimely bopping classic with a classical sweep, a flamenco flourish, a chop-sticking swatch of “Tom’s Diner,” Suzanne Vega’s bohemian chant. By the time he finishes surfing the tune with his three quartet comrades, “Take Five” has become “Hang Ten.”

        This inspired improvisation highlighted a recent concert at the Sellersville Theater featuring Mintel, saxophonist Nelson Hill, drummer Dave Mohn and bassist Jack Hegyi. The gig was a hemi-powered sleigh ride of swing and stride, a snappy “Little Drummer Boy” with a youth choir and a “Linus and Lucy” with a Cuban accent. Everything was ribboned by Mintel’s ribboning originals from the quartet’s newest record Just Around the Corner.

        Corner is Mintel’s 10th CD and a cornerstone of his 20th anniversary as a rare octuple threat: band leader, pianist, composer, arranger, producer, booking agent, manager and publicist. He’s kept his quartet and his career alive and thriving by playing standards in all sorts of venues; sacred works—his own, Brubeck’s and Duke Ellington’s—with choirs, and two holiday shows at the White House for Brubeck-digging presidents.

        Mintel grew up in Upper Black Eddy with a jeweler father who refurbished pianos. At age seven he was taking liberties with Chopin and TV cartoon themes. At 15 he was serenading fashion shows in a lingerie shop. At 45 he’s got a knack for unknotting knotty rhythms, writing hummable melodies and jazzing up jazz.

        During a recent interview from the Morrisville home he shares with his ten-year-old daughter, Mintel discussed everything from the pressures of leading a quartet to the pleasures of being one of Brubeck’s main men.

        You were 14 when you fell under the spell of Brubeck’s recordings of “Take Five” and “Blue Rondo a la Turk.” Why did they lay you flat?

        Well, at that point I was listening to many different musicians: Billy Joel, Ray Charles, Elvis Presley, a lot of ’50s and ’60s groups. And then I found this old 45 record in my parents’ collection with this guy on the cover wearing a brown suit and horn-rimmed glasses, with his hair slicked back. And it’s “Take Five” and “Blue Rondo”; I found out later it was a 45 that DJs played. I heard those elastic, magnetic rhythms and that atmospheric, adventurous sound and I just knew that’s what I wanted to play. In fact, I recorded the 45 onto a cassette and played with it over and over and over until I got those tunes down. Man, I just wore out that tape. I still have that 45. It’s still on the piano. Maybe I should bronze it or turn it into a gold record [laughs].

       In 1998 you requested and received an invitation to play at the Clinton White House. In 2011 you requested and received a similar gig at the Obama White House. Where did you get the chutzpah, the cojones?

        [In 1998] I was watching something about the White House on TV and I thought maybe I’ll call to see if they have programs for musicians around the world; perhaps I could perform for troops overseas. So I called the White House and was told I needed to talk to the social secretary. After our conversation I sent a CD and some loose press clippings that weren’t even in a folder. A week later I got the invitation to play a Christmas program.

        I remember we were taken to something called the Diplomatic Room. We were standing in line waiting for the president, surrounded by Secret Service agents. I gave President Clinton a copy of a CD of ours with Brubeck’s “Blue Rondo.” And Clinton looked at it and said: “You know, Dave told me I was the only elected official who could sing the bridge to ‘Blue Rondo.’” [laughs]

        [In 2011] my girlfriend said: Why don’t you try the White House again? At first I thought: Nah, it was just a one-time deal. But I still had the White House number in my phone. So I called and asked about a performance and, again, a week later I was invited to play a holiday concert.

        I was talking about Brubeck with President Obama and he said. “I love Dave. He played the first jazz concert I heard with my dad as a kid.’” That’s why Dave is my hero—he cuts across everything: race, religion, politics. He’s everything that jazz should be.

        You know, I tried to get another White House date with the Bush administration. But I heard nothing but crickets [laughs].

       You’re starting your 20th year as head honcho of a jazz quartet—which is like 40 years in the real world. A 20-year anniversary is a perfect time for reflection, so here goes nothing: What have you learned to do and not to do?

        Boy, that’s such a loaded question. What I’ve learned not to do is burn bridges, especially with promoters and venue managers. What I’ve learned to do is to listen and to have respect—for my players and my audience and the listening public. I’ve also learned that you have to be constantly working, whether you’re in the studio or teaching or on the road. You have to keep a good work ethic because it’s always been an uphill battle to make jazz a popular art form. 

I’ve also learned to be more relaxed. For a long time I worried about promotion and image—that enough people would be at the concert, and that it would come off okay. I don’t really wrestle with that much anymore. I’m enjoying myself more.

        You’ve paid some crazy dues as a quartet leader—like driving nine hours to a gig in Buffalo only to find no audience. What are some of the other risks and rewards of being head honcho?

        It’s a lot of pressure to keep the band working, to keep mouths fed. Being the leader I’ve got to not only take care of my life, I’ve got to take care of the lives of three other guys. Sometimes I’ve come home with the players making more money than I did, with no money in my pocket.

        I’ve been looking for booking agents and managers over the years; believe you me, it would be a welcome load off my shoulders. But, then, one of the reasons we’re working so much is that promoters and venue managers like the fact that they only have to work with me.

        Let’s face it, this is a music that requires patience and fortitude and longevity. I’ve lost players because they had other missions; they just had to move on. Some musicians have gotten along well onstage, but not so well offstage—and I can’t stand lack of harmony. The key is surrounding yourself with great players who are also great people. These guys—Dave, Jack, Nelson—are fantastic. We’re on the same page —musically, emotionally, spiritually. We’re like a band of brothers.

        A good example of our chemistry is “Tom’s Diner.” I had been thinking about it for years until one day we were performing “Take Five” during a gig. We were shifting between key centers and “Tom’s Diner” just popped into my head and my hands. It definitely adds some tension and release, some dramatic flair, some nice teasing. Now I notice that Nelson will play a little piece of it in other tunes and people will think it’s a whole other number. I guess it’s become our signature riff, our calling card.

        Can you think of a truly memorable audience reaction that significantly changed one of your shows?

        Actually, that happens a lot. It happens during a really intense improvisation, when I start really, really wailing on the piano, trying to convey the energy that I’m getting back from the audience. For instance, there’s this part in “Take Five,” after the “Tom’s Diner” section, where I make the piano sound almost like a Spanish guitar. You build up the intensity and the audience suddenly starts clapping. They’ve been with you since the beginning note, but then it’s completely different because that’s the moment when the energy level is as one. When that happens, it’s like an explosion.

        What essentials did you pick up from Mr. Brubeck? Did he give you tips about keeping your integrity intact, no matter what? After all, this was a man who in the 1950s canceled quartet concerts after club owners demanded he replace Eugene Wright, his black bassist.

        Dave definitely taught me how to live better not only as a musician but as a person. For instance, there was a situation where somebody wanted us to play without our sax player, to save money. And I said: “Oh man, I can’t do that.” If we’re going to do a tribute to Dave Brubeck, no way can we do it as a trio. Because that horn was such an integral part of the Brubeck sound. I mean, it’s a matter of respect.

        Another thing that I learned from Dave is how jazz can really affect someone’s life positively. I’ve always tried to be an energy player, to get people away from their problems for a few hours with music that’s beautiful and even mesmerizing. I like to think we’re making jazz more accessible and popular. I’ve noticed a lot of college kids getting into what we’re playing. There have been so many situations where people have come up to us and said, “You know, I never really liked jazz before.” It’s fun to hear that we’ve helped them start their jazz collection.

        What dream projects do you have that are reasonable—i.e., not pie-in-the-sky? What do you need to do to make your career livelier and your chops meatier?

        I want to do another solo piano CD; I’ve written a whole slew of new pieces. I want to have more classical-and-jazz combinations; that way, you’re introducing another audience to jazz. And as much as I love Dave Brubeck, I want to get away from doing his music all the time.

        For years I was pigeonholed as a Dave Brubeck clone. Now, that’s not a bad label. But my playing is a lot different than Dave’s, and so is my composing. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve been performing a lot more originals than standards the last two years; that’s why the new record has only one piece I didn’t write [“Ode to Joy” from Beethoven’s ninth symphony]. The last two years it seems the originals have been speaking to more people, on the airlines and satellite radio. In fact, I received an email from someone who told me that Silent Night, my solo piano Christmas record, had been played on Christmas Eve on SiriusXM Radio. And that’s a CD I did 12 years ago.

        It’s natural to contemplate your heroes right after they’ve died. After Brubeck passed in December, did your life with him pass before your eyes and ears?

        Boy, there were a lot of mixed emotions there. I thought about the first time I met Dave in 1990, backstage at the Keswick Theatre [in Glenside]. The liner notes he wrote for our CDs. The Christmas cards with a little hand-written piece of music for me. All those letters of encouragement.

        I’ll never forget what Dave told me: You’re doing it the right way, Eric. You’re building from the ground up—the next gig, the next album, the next event. That’s what will give you the staying power. Dave was all about freedom and equality and he said I played his music better than he played it. It’s an honor to know I was one of his main men.

Take Eight

Jazz pianist and quartet-leader Eric Mintel is a rare octuple threat.

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Geoff Gehman is the author of The Kingdom of the Kid: Growing Up in the Long-Lost Hamptons, which will be published in July by SUNY Press. Email: geoffgehman@verizon.net.