Opportunity to Make Something Special: A Conversation with George Benson

To many, George Benson needs little introduction. During his career thus far, the guitarist-vocalist has been nominated for twenty-five Grammy Awards, winning ten. He has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. And in 2009, the National Endowment of the Arts awarded them one of the highest recognitions: the title of Jazz Master. Much of Benson’s success comes from his unfaltering ability to find where improvised music and popular music cross-pollinate.

Benson’s jazz bona-fides are well-established. A child prodigy influenced by Charlie Parker, and Charlie Christian, Grant Green, Benson’s first major opportunity as a professional musician came as a four-year stint with organist Jack McDuff, who was also featured on Benson’s debut as a leader, The New Boss Guitar of George Benson (Prestige, 1964). Subsequent records – It’s Uptown (1966) and The George Benson Cookbook (Columbia, 1967) – found Benson continuing to travel the soul jazz trajectory with Lonnie Smith and Ronnie Cuber. His late 60s output found him alongside Clark Terry, Joe Henderson, Herbie Hancock, Hubert Laws, Ron Carter, and Bob James. Benson also briefly recorded with Miles Davis. 

But even with recordings more comfortably within the jazz idiom, Benson has shown a propensity to pay homage to more popular sensibilities. This interest in pop music goes back to Benson’s childhood. At age ten, he recorded his first single, “She Makes Me Mad” (Groove, 1954), a track that fits comfortably with R&B music of the era. And even in Benson’s more purely jazz-focused years, it was not uncommon for him to cover a song by Smokey Robinson, Aretha Franklin, or the Monkees. Benson’s work for Creed Taylor’s CTI Records during the first half of the 1970s further fused jazz with R&B and pop. Benson also later appeared on Stevie Wonder’s landmark Songs in the Key of Life (Tamla, 1976). 

However, Benson’s blurring of lines between pop and jazz hit its apex with Breezin’ (Warner Bros., 1976). Claus Ogerman’s lush string arrangements provide a rich backdrop to showcase the cross-functionality of musical genres. Benson’s gentle guitar and soothing vocals formed the basis for what many say is an early “smooth jazz” masterpiece. Some have even argued it is one of the finest recordings of the decade. Breezin’ was alsoz wildly successful financially, topping jazz, pop, and R&B charts. It became certified triple platinum, nearly unheard of for a jazz record.

Of course, some critics have been less than receptive of Breezin’. As one example, in The Village Voice, the misguided Robert Christgau gave the album a paltry C. But some of the more purist objections have not seemingly deterred Benson in his cross-stylistic endeavors. His post-Breezin’ career has included tunes like “Turn Your Love Around” [The George Benson Collection (Warner Bros., 1981)], which, though catchy, displays substance often missing on mainstream radio. The ensuing four decades saw collaborations with Earl Klugh, Al Jarreau, and the Basie Big Band. It also brought tributes to Nat King Cole, Fats Domino, and Chuck Berry. Regardless of his surroundings, one senses an artist focused on a continued search for something beautiful regardless of labels…

We sat down with Benson before his June 2nd performance at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center (NJPAC); his sole East Coast US concert of Summer 2023.

PostGenre: I try not to get too personal in interviews, but my mom used to dance around the house with me as a baby to your music all the time. And now that I have a child, I find myself doing the same with him.  

George Benson: Man, that is such a beautiful thing. Wherever we go, our concerts are still packed with people of all different ages, from 2 to 92. We remind them of the best periods of their lives. My music reminds a lot of people of happy times in their life, regardless of whether they are old or young. I’ve had an incredibly unique career. It’s a phenomenon, actually, because I never expected anything like it. All I do is play music for people and hope they are happy they came to my show that particular night. And, as long as I’m out on the road, it’s not over.

PG: Your first instrument was a ukulele back when you were seven years old. Your stepfather had found it in a dumpster.

GB: Yeah, yeah. 

PG: Have you ever thought about how incredible it is that you started such a beautiful career in music out of something someone else just completely discarded and no longer valued?

GB: In a way, that’s what life is all about. We all have an opportunity to use what we each have to make something special. That opportunity is what makes life so wonderful and interesting. It doesn’t matter where you come from; all that matters is where you’re going. How you get there is important too, but I don’t think there’s anything impossible for me to accomplish. You could even be the President of the United States. I’ve actually had offers to run for various elected offices, but I don’t like politics. That’s not me. But music? That’s always been super attractive to me, and that’s what I’ve been doing.

PG: Your stepfather not only got you the ukulele, but even made you your first guitar.

GB: My first electric guitar.

PG: Do you feel that starting with a homemade guitar instead of some fancy expensive thing at all changed how you approach guitar performance?

GB: No, because I was not really a guitar player yet. I was still using the guitar as a background instrument. At that time, I was playing with the singing group, the Altairs, that my cousin and I had put together. We couldn’t afford a guitar, so my second father made me one. I showed him the one I wanted in the pawn shop window. It cost $55, well beyond our reach. We couldn’t afford it. He looked at it carefully and said, “You know what? I can make that.” The one he made for me cost $23 worth of materials and that’s what I used.

PG: Do you still have the guitar he made?

GB: No, man, I wish. It’s long gone. 

I took it to a gig the first night I had it. It was a record hop with an audience of Caucasians with the white sock girls. The disc jockey was playing the record, saw the shopping bag I brought my guitar in, and asked what it was for. I told him it was the guitar my father made for me. When he heard that, he destroyed the record that was being played. He pulled the needle right across the record and said, “Kids, I want you to hear this. This kid’s father made him this guitar.” He held the guitar up, and everyone applauded. I remember that like it was yesterday, man. I was 15 years old.

PG: So, the Altairs, was a doo-wop group?

GB: In those days, that’s what it was.

PG: Do you feel that working with a doo-wop group influenced your later vocal work?

GB: Yeah, it has been helpful to become well-versed with all types of music. I have had some experience with just about all kinds of music. The only thing I don’t have much experience with is classical music, though I know classical musicians. 

PG: Jumping ahead a bit, one thing that has been pretty prominent since the early 2000s is the melding of jazz with R&B, pop, and hip-hop. Roy Hargrove’s RH Factor explored these areas, and many musicians today – Robert Glasper, for instance – continue to do so. You are often grouped in with the early years of “smooth jazz” but have you ever considered yourself a forefather of these jazz-pop-hiphop-R&/B hybrids as well? You certainly combine jazz with R&B and pop on several of your records. And if you look at a song like “Give Me the Night” [Give Me the Night (Warner Bros., 1980)], your repetitive use of a short riff may sound reminiscent of sampling a hook. 

GB: All music is based on very few notes with different sequences to them and different rhythms to match them. All music is really one [thing]. The differences are only in how things are accented and used. You know? It’s good to know what it is you’re using and why you’re using it, but it shouldn’t limit you. And that’s how I’ve tried to approach music during my life. 

But going back to the singing group stuff, [that experience] really paid off because in those days, everybody sang everything “hi-oh” with falsettos, and all of that stuff. I was very well versed with that approach from Frankie Lyman, Little Anthony and the Imperials, and many other folks. The Skyliners were from my hometown [of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania]. Their lead singer, Jimmy Beaumont, was only sixteen years old when I was seventeen. I was brought in to audition for that group, and they wanted me to join them. But I didn’t want to leave my group, so I lost out on that opportunity. Though, twenty-five years later, I became a star anyway. [laughing].

PG: Though it was a while before you started singing more on your records.

GB: I really wanted to sing more, but my manager used to give me a hard time about it. He used to tell me, “Well, you know, you are not as good as such and such.” My answer would always be, “You mean to tell me that you would give the Chipmunks a listen for a vocal record but not me because I play guitar?” He didn’t want me to stop playing the guitar and saw singing as getting in the way. 

PG: Considering the response your singing received on songs like “This Masquerade” [Breezin’] and “On Broadway” [Weekend in L.A. (Warner Bros.,1978)] you probably could have made a career on solely vocals. But even to this day, you still play guitar. So, it seems your manager’s concerns were misplaced. Do you feel music executives should just get out of the way of musicians trying to do what they think is best? 

GB: No, we need the business side too because they understand the sales part of the equation. To some extent, you need to treat records as a product. It’s no good if you have a product and nobody knows it’s out. The music has to be brought to the listener’s attention, and people in the business world know how to find listeners. They often don’t know that much about music itself and can only go based on what came before. They try to compare your music with how others categorized similar sounds before. They’re guessing at it, of course. But, ultimately, we need both sides: both the artists and the businesspeople.

PG: And the business folks may have some insight in areas an artist may not. Your manager tried to stop you from joining Miles Davis’ band, for instance.

GB: Yeah, Miles was trying to maneuver me into his band. Once my manager and the record company found that out, they told me I shouldn’t join Miles’ band because a lot of people at the record company thought I was going to be bigger than Miles. I couldn’t understand that then. Miles Davis was the greatest jazz artist in the world at that time, and this was way before I did Breezin’. So I said, “What fool said that? Has the world gone crazy? We’re talking about Miles Davis here, man.” But they saw something in my work.

PG: Do you ever wish you had done more with Miles? 

GB: I am very happy with the music I made. But Miles was quite a character man. He was quite different than anybody else and had a wealth of information. And he had played with, in my estimation, the greatest jazz artist in history, Charlie Parker. At a minimum, Parker was the greatest saxophone player in history. Miles had a lot of stories and expertise that comes from working with [Bird] and others. And Miles had stylistic things that made his music so different from everybody else. He was quite a guy, with a lot of knowledge. When he talked, he passed out lessons, man. We were friends, you know, but just casual friends. I didn’t hang around him a lot, but I always liked Miles because of what he represented and because of his expertise and his choice of musicians that he played with, well, it was top-notch.

I’ve had the opportunity to meet some of the greatest artists of our time, including Miles. I had the good fortune of meeting so many of them. I guess that has helped my career probably more than anything else; that opportunity to be with real live persons, many of them no longer here, who accomplished so much with their instruments and to study how they did it. I learned a lot from playing with, and even just watching, these artists do what they did.

PG: That is one thing you note in your book [Benson: The Autobiography (De Capo, 2014)]. You mentioned that when you were young, you asked Wes Montgomery to teach you, and he said he could not because he did not know everything and was continuing to learn. It was not until years later that you understood what he meant.

GB: Yeah, I now know what he was talking about. Now that people ask me to show them things, I now know how important it is to show them. But I also know why he said no, and that he couldn’t show me anything. Even as great as he was, he was still learning. We are all always still learning. 

PG: Is that continual learning something that still draws you to music?

GB: Oh man, all of our lives we’re going to be learning. Just when you think you got something conquered, somebody you never heard of comes out of nowhere and does something spectacular and makes you say “Wait a minute, how come I didn’t think of that?” A good example of that would be Prince. He came in with all of these ideas that I learned from, even after I had been playing guitar for a long time. That’s one of the great things about younger artists. We always need an influx of different artists and their ideas to spark us into a new era; a new way of looking at things.

PG: So, you have never been one of those people who shut out new ideas or sounds? Your track with Gorillaz [“Humility”, The Now Now (Parlophone/Warner Bros., 2018)] certainly suggests that to be the case. 

GB: Music always changes. Every era has its own good and bad musical styles. You gotta tap into what people are exploring today. Otherwise, you end up being part of the old school, and you’ll be gone. People wanna know that you’re keeping up with it and not just living in the past. So far, I’ve been fortunate, but the newest music coming out is a little more difficult to approach because it is very different from what I came from and the artistry that existed at the time I was coming up. There are no more Wes Montgomerys, you know?

PG: Sure.

GB: Matter of fact, there was only one. And you can try as hard as you want to find somebody who sings like Sarah Vaughn or Ella Fitzgerald. But there was only one of each of them too. And you don’t need people copying them anyway. 

PG: A little earlier, you mentioned Prince. In an interview back in 2010, you mentioned you were hanging out with him in Hawaii and talking about maybe doing something together in the studio. Did that ever happen?

GB: Oh yeah! Wow, man. I worked with Prince’s longtime keyboard player, Ricky Peterson, who had also arranged the song “Prettiest Girl in the World.” Ricky produced one of my albums [That’s Right (GRP, 1996)] and he invited me to record at Prince’s studio, Paisley Park. We went upstairs to the pre-production room and wrote the song “P Park” and Prince came down to the studio to listen to what we were doing. 

One of my sons had come up with me, and I told him to bring one of my guitars. We gave the guitar to Prince, and I later saw him playing it on a lot of gigs. I also ended up playing that guitar with Prince at a gig in London one day after he called me up on the stage. Prince was quite a guy. He was an incredible fellow with great imagination and so much talent.

PG: In terms of production, you have worked with some of the greatest producers in music history; John Hammond, Creed Taylor, Quincy Jones, and Tommy LiPuma all come to mind. Any thoughts on how collaborating with such great producers may have shaped your work as an artist?

GB: It wasn’t easy at first because they all had been with some great people themselves. There were a lot of differences in working with each. But in all cases, I was working from a very knowledgeable point of view. I’d been in front of audiences all my life, So when they were talking about technical stuff, I would tell them when it wouldn’t work. I knew when I wouldn’t do something. 

Often they tried to get me to do the songs of other artists, like Teddy Pendergrass. But I would tell them that I’m not Teddy Pendergrass. I don’t think like him, and I think about music very differently. I am not interested in just doing someone else’s music in their style.

PG: That is one thing that has always been great about when you do cover someone else’s music. It seems you do it only if you can go in a new direction with the composition.

GB: That was my argument with Tommy LiPuma. I didn’t particularly like the song “Breezin’” at first because it was too simple. I wanted a challenge. But then I realized that was the challenge: how do I make something that simple seem sophisticated and beautiful? Gábor Szabó did it and made the song sound interesting. Maybe I could too.

So I said, “Let me try it, but I need somebody to give me some pointers.” [The composer of the original song] Bobby Womack came down to the studio. Bobby Womack said, “There was something I wanted to put in that record that I never got a chance to do it.” [starts singing the beginning guitar lines on Benson’s recorded version “Breezin’”]. And that made it a whole different animal.

PG: Did you have any sense when you were recording Breezin’ as to how special that album was going to end up being?

GB: Well, I had a great band full of young, creative, and powerful musicians. We were all young and gung-ho about everything we did. We thought we were the best and could do anything. People used to hire us to open their shows, and when we opened, we also closed the show. It made it hard for the people who hired us to have us open. The good thing was that Breezin’ came out right on time.

PG: One interesting thing that often gets overlooked in discussions of Breezin’ is that you recorded it using a new guitar. Your first album as a leader, The New Boss Guitar of George Benson, was also named after a new instrument. Is there something about using a new guitar that spurs you creatively? 

GB: I never thought about that. Both of those guitars were spectacular, and they were unusual instruments. They were not everyday instruments. One [ed. the New Boss guitar] was a Super 400 Gibson, a big one. Mostly cowboys played that kind of guitar because it was loud. It was a precision-made beautiful guitar. The other one [ed. the Breezin‘ guitar] was a Johnny Smith model Gibson, which I believe was fashioned after the D’Angelico guitars, which Jimmy Smith loved.

They were both special instruments. The difference is that I had never played the Johnny Smith guitar until the recording date. The amplifier was new as well. It was given to me by Tommy Gumina, who owned Polytone amplifiers. I had talked to him on the phone once, and he said, “When you come out to LA, man, let me know, and I’ll give you one of my new amplifiers.” So he did, he rolled it into the studio. [Ed. Breezin’ was recorded at Capitol Records in Hollywood]. I had a brand new guitar I never played and an amplifier I had never used. We sold ten million albums with those two instruments I had never played. 

George Benson is currently on tour. His sole East Coast US show of Summer 2023 will take place on June 2nd at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center (NJPAC). Tickets can be purchased here. More information on Benson can be found on his website.

Photo credit: Greg Allen