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There is something special about a live recording compared to one edited in the studio. An increased openness to risk and chance creates a palpable energy that is difficult to recreate in a more controlled setting. This is particularly true for improvised music, where art is crafted in a fleeting moment. A great example can be found in comparing Lakecia Benjamin’s first live album, Phoenix Reimagined (Live) (Ropeadope, 2024), to her prior recordings.

Over the last several years, Benjamin has established herself as a saxophonist to watch. Whether her heartfelt tribute to John and Alice Coltrane (Pursuance: The Coltranes (Ropeadope, 2020) or the empowering Grammy-nominated Phoenix (Whirlwind, 2023), she has shown a penchant for creating music that can resonate deeply with the listener. Benjamin puts her heart into her music but does so in a way that does not turn it esoteric or demand of its audience a thorough understanding of her compositional theories. While this substantive approachability is evident in her studio output, there is an element that one cannot fully appreciate until seeing her perform in person.

Live, Benjamin yells from the stage with elation. She moves frequently, going wherever the music directs her. Her love of her work becomes obvious to even a casual observer. By connecting with the listener this way, she pulls them further into her sonic word, giving it an increased richness. In part, this added vibrancy of her live performances seems to come from the saxophonist’s sheer joy in simply being alive. In September 2021, she was involved in a near-fatal car accident. Lucky to survive, a broken jaw nevertheless hindered her ability to perform. She still persevered and pushed through it. Even excruciating pain could not pull her away from her love of making music.

Recorded live-in-studio at the Bunker in Brooklyn, Benjamin’s newest release finds her seemingly in front of a smaller group than one finds in a concert performance. The decreased crowd in no way hinders her enthusiasm. Benjamin’s love, excitement, and uplifting respect for music permeate Phoenix Reimagined (Live). In a world where there is seemingly unrelenting chaos, whether geopolitical instability or concerns closer to home, an opportunity to share those virtues could not be more vital.

PostGenre: Before we get into your new album, your performance at Newport last summer seemingly blew away everyone who heard it. What was your experience like playing there? 

Lakecia Benjamin: I had a great time. I remember being a little… I wouldn’t say nervous, ‘cause I’m always a little nervous. But it was surreal to actually be there on that stage. It was a life moment that I won’t forget. 

PG: Did you have a special appreciation for it because you know so much about John and Alice Coltrane, and both, especially John, had a rich history with the festival?

LB: Yeah, hell yeah. That was the whole thing. So many people have made their way through there. And so many iconic albums have been made there. It is definitely a special place.

By the time I reached Newport in August of last year, I was pretty exhausted from touring already. So, I didn’t start the day thinking it would be super exciting. But as soon as I set foot on the ground, I was like, “Oh yeah, it’s going to be a great day.”

PG: Anyone seeing your performance likely noted how physical you are as a player, which isn’t necessarily caught by listening to studio albums. Where do you see the relationship between your physical movement and artistic expression through music? 

LB: Oh, believe it or not, I’ve slowed down a little these days. At Newport, and even more so with my funk band, I was way more active than I am now. I’m not doing it intentionally, but sometimes I put my all into the music in every way. It’s not that music is some athletic sport or something, but I take the discipline needed to do sports as similar to that required to make music. It does feel like my whole body is engaged. My whole personality is engaged. My whole being is engaged in the performance. 

PG: Where do you think that that energy comes from? 

LB: Oh, that’s just energy I have. I’m pretty sure that’s just how I was built. Since I do feel that music is part of my purpose, it is a spiritual thing for me, as well. I think it all just combines. 

PG: Not to jump into your car accident, but… 

LB: That’s what everyone says. They don’t want to talk about it when they bring it up. But it’s OK. 

PG: How hard was it to overcome having a broken jaw when so much of playing the saxophone is tied to your embouchure?

LB: I’m not really sure. People ask me how I got through it, and I have no idea. I assumed that once the jaw cannot fully close, you can’t play. But somehow I did. I was maybe just clamping down for dear life. But I do know that it was excruciating to play. There are no words that can describe the level of pain that kind of shoots up your face. Especially since it’s not like I could just play some slow songs at a wedding reception with this broken jaw and play like a wedding reception. The fact that I was playing the Coltranes’ intense music probably intensified the pain. But I somehow made my way through it. I wouldn’t say that those shows were painful while I played. I really didn’t feel the pain until I got off the stage. Only once I got off the stage was I was aware of what damage had been done. My doctor had told me that unless I got punched in the face, my jaw wouldn’t break any further, so I knew I wasn’t doing more damage. But I do feel like there was probably some other source of power getting me through these shows. It was definitely like one of those triathlons or something. 

PG: Did you change the way that you play as a result of the accident? 

LB: If I try to go back to what was happening, I do think that I kept my mouth on the mouthpiece more. When you take a breath, sometimes you remove your mouth completely from the mouthpiece. But I just kept my mouth there and took more nose breaths. I don’t think people in the audience knew my jaw was broken. I can see it though when I watch videos of those performances. I also didn’t move as much. I don’t even think I was fully present there. I may never know how I got through it. 

PG: In another interview, you stated that while you were recuperating, all of the ideas for Phoenix (Whirlwind, 2023) kept coming to you constantly. Where do you think that inspiration was coming from?

LB: I will say that before the accident, I had already started seeing, in my head, people like Patrice [Rushen] and Angela [Davis]. I did not yet have in mind all of the guests, but some of them, and we just got delayed for about a year. During that time, I was trying to figure out what I would do. But after I came back from the tour following my accident, my creativity drastically increased. In terms of a story, I had more of a story to tell than before. Once that happened, it all came together. 

PG: You released Phoenix on Whirlwind Recordings. For Phoenix Reimagined (Live), you are going back to Ropeadope Records, where you released Rise Up (Ropeadope, 2018) and Pursuance: The Coltranes. What made you decide to switch back for this recording? 

LB: It wasn’t necessarily a switch. I have been wanting to do a live album. But the idea to do a live album was also pretty last minute. I was aware that Ropeadope was having its twenty-fifth anniversary. I figured that my other two albums are still there, and I’m in contact with them all the time. We have a great relationship, and the Ropeadope team has helped me at times in my career when I was stuck. They also had some space on their roster. So, I figured that for my first live album, I should do it with them. I don’t know if there is anything better I could do to help make their anniversary special. 

PG: You mentioned how you wanted to release a live album. Phoenix Reimagined (Live) was recorded live in a studio before an audience, not on one of your tour shows. Is there a reason you chose not to release a concert recording?

LB: Partly because of how the idea came to me at the last minute. We have an enormous amount of shows right now, and the details for all of them are complicated, especially with how some engineers record. I had this short window while home in New York and with all these guests also sitting in New York. I saw that as a great opportunity to record with them. I decided to celebrate with the home crowd. I did it in a semi-controlled, but actually uncontrolled, environment. We did not do things like stop and start. I focused on getting the best sound we could to document what we were doing. 

PG: You mentioned the guests, who include John Scofield, Randy Brecker, and Jeff “Tain” Watts on the title track. This album, and the two preceding it, featured many guest artists. You’ve indicated in other interviews that you want to give these people flowers while they’re still here. But how do you figure out proper groupings of people for tracks? For instance, that “Affinity” on Pursuance would be best with Greg Osby and Reggie Workman. 

LB: Oh, that’s easy. I have a dry-erase board at home. It’s not the size of those school chalkboards, but fairly big. It lists everything I want to accomplish. It shows everything I’m thinking about at the time, and I can amend it anytime because it’s dry-erase. There is a section on the board that is full of people who are on my list to interact with musically.

Sometimes we’ve tried before, and they did not accept my offers. Sometimes they were just not available. But depending on the storyline of my project and what I need at the time, I usually write for my guests. I don’t just say, “Hey, Herbie [Hancock], can you just play this McCoy [Tyner] like solo?” I usually try to write something for them that’s in their vein. So, from that, in making the live album, I saw who on my list was around at that time. Those were the candidates. 

PG: Who else is on that list? 

LB: Yeah. 

PG: Who else was on that list, that you haven’t played with yet? 

LB: Yeah, I heard you. I’m good. 

PG: [Laughing] OK. How much of working with these guest artists comes from these musicians approaching you, and how much from you pursuing them? There is a fascinating story about how you started working with Prince. Basically, you ran past security at a club he was at, to go play with his band. So, how many of these guests come on board in response to your sheer willpower?

LB: No, it’s all completely forced. Most of the guests had not heard of me when we started working together. They don’t know me. They don’t want to know me. They want to know why I’m calling. They want to know why I’m at their house. How did I get their address? Who gave me their email? “Stop calling.” That was the type of interaction in the beginning. They were never like, “Oh, I’ve been hearing about you.”

But I do think that reluctance is the nature of the elders anyway. They almost want you to prove that you’re dedicated. Proving you are dedicated is part of the tradition. You have to do it before they will invest in you. So, for this stage, however long it lasts, I’m artificially making these connections because I feel that this is how they made these connections too.

Except they had the luxury of things like Miles Davis playing four nights a week in Harlem with Herbie and Kenny Barron playing down the block. Now things are a bit more hidden. So, to get that same mentorship and fortitude and for the lineage to continue down, you need to actively seek out the elders because they’re more in hiding, especially since the pandemic. I will say though that for Phoenix Reimagined people were much more happy to hear from me. Maybe it is because of the groundwork I have done over the last five years, or so.  

PG: To ask you about a specific guest artist you have worked with, Gary Bartz was on “Liberia” on Pursuance. He was also one of your early mentors. What do you feel you learned the most from him? 

LB: Our first lesson, he told me he wanted to teach me only classical music. He wasn’t going to teach me jazz. I asked him, “Why the hell would you do that?” And he said “I’m pretty sure you’re going to learn how to solo. You’re going to figure out the changes. You’re going to get all that. But I’m not sure you’re ever going to learn how to play a saxophone, and you need to play a saxophone for some of the things you’re hearing.”

Then he asked me if I had my own band. I didn’t because it cost too much money at the time. I was barely playing with anybody else. And he said he doesn’t have any students that don’t have their own band. As an alto player, I was never going to work without my own band. 

Also, I had a big video game addiction, and he told me to stop playing and focus on playing from nine to five. Eight hours a day, just like people who go to the office to work. I could divide it up –  three hours practicing, two hours on the piano, an hour calling clubs and restaurants to see who let me play, and another hour getting my demo together – but I needed to go to work every day. Six days a week, not even five. I owe him a lot. He doesn’t realize it, but he greatly shaped my mentality about how to approach the business side of music. 

PG: In terms of your music in general, you have previously expressed a desire to go back to a time where, in your opinion, the artists cared about the audience. Live, you can capture some of your intense energy, and that clearly communicates with the audience. Do you feel the decreased care about audiences comes from more avant-garde experimentations – where the focus is on free expression and pushing boundaries perhaps more than appealing to audiences-  considering you also worked with Rashied Ali and James Blood Ulmer?

LB:  I don’t think that’s strictly an avant-garde thing. I think that’s a reflection of where we are as a community right now. The jazz community right now is more cerebral. Things come less from the heart and less from a passionate and heartfelt connection to the listener. There has been a shift in perspective from “I’m an artist and am here for the people” to “I’m an artist, and you’re here to watch me be an artist.” There is an idea going around right now that an artist’s music can be so life-changing, sophisticated, and amazing that the mere fact they are playing should be enough to touch the listener and change their life. I do believe that is completely possible.

But I also think that if I started speaking another language right now, we may not have a good interview. I think artists need to make active efforts to engage the people who are actively contributing to the community, especially financially. I believe that there is a disconnect. Sometimes, musicians are interacting with each other, and they’re not smiling. They’re not happy. They’re not showing passion about hearing the other members of the band play. They’re just standing there stoically, trying to be cool. I don’t really understand that vibe. 

PG: Do you feel your perspective – of making joy out of music for listeners compared to focusing solely on it as a serious art – has held you back, at all?

LB: No, because I’m doing it with integrity, and I’m trying to do it at a high musical level. You could argue that with my Soul Squad music, maybe people could say, “Oh yeah, she’s just trying to do a gimmick. She’s just happy and dancing around because of that.” But after Pursuance and Phoenix, they can’t make that argument. It’s clear that I’m dedicated to playing at a high level. But playing at a high level doesn’t mean forgetting the audience. I played with Clark Terry, who was at an intensely high level, but he never forgot the audience. Same with Deedee Bridgewater. She knows that the audience is there. A lot of vocalists, when you go to their show – maybe because it’s their instrument – they speak to their audience. You can go to some instrumental shows, and no matter how big they are, they may not say “hi” to the audience until forty minutes after they come out. It’s weird to enter a room without saying “hi.” 

PG: Do you feel your interest in connecting with the audience, at all, comes from growing up in a Dominican neighborhood in Washington Heights, where music – like merengue and salsa – that is deeply tied to dance were so prominent?

LB: It could be. Everybody knows I love the Heights. But, fortunately, all that music, Latin music, Spanish music, church music, funk music, jazz is a Black experience. All of those kinds of music involve the people being engaged. Sometimes, the music is meant for dancing. Sometimes it is meant for spiritual empowerment. Some of it is just a forced arrival experience. Some of it is for mourning. But they all involve the people. 

PG: And one of those forms would also be hip hop. “Let Go” on Phoenix Reimagined finds you rapping. What inspired you to put down your horn to rap?

LB: It’s kind of been happening in shows. Sometimes, I feel like people focus most on the feeling of the music. They like the music. They’re having a good time. And they often have no idea whether I intended it as a happy or sad song because it’s instrumental. Music has a little bit of a language barrier in that way. They’re not 100% confident about what a song is about, and sometimes they need reminders throughout the show. But they can connect verbally with it. Adding lyrics makes your intention a lot easier to tell your story. Ultimately, music is not something we musicians just indulge in by ourselves. We have a job and a purpose.

‘Phoenix Reimagined’ will be released on Ropeadope Records on July 12, 2024 as part of the label’s twenty-fifth anniversary celebration. It can be purchased on Bandcamp. More information on Lakecia Benjamin can be found on her website.

Photo credit: Elizabeth Leitzell