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Unfortunately, sometimes life gets in the way of interviews making it to print. This interview with Dezron Douglas, which took place on November 10, 2022, is one such conversation. At the time, the bassist was about to release his quartet’s record, Atalaya (International Anthem, 2022). As that same group – with pianist George Burton, drummer Joe Dyson, and saxophonist Emilio Modeste – is about to embark on a six-day run (March 19 to 24th) at the legendary Village Vanguard, it seemed like the opportune time to release this interview.

Over the last several years, Douglas, a student of the late great Jackie McLean, has developed into one of modern music’s most in-demand bassists. He has worked with some of the music’s most important names, including Pharoah Sanders, Louis Hayes, George Cables, David Murray, Ravi Coltrane, Cyrus Chestnut, and Enrico Rava. His success has come, in large part, due to his unwavering focus on sounding like himself. He seems unconcerned about how other artists wish to approach music, yet still tries to find something to learn from their methods. His pure tone does not ignore the history of his instrument in the history of improvised music but also refuses to be mired in the past. He finds equally powerful conversationalists in Burton, Dyson, and Modeste. The result, on Atalaya, is a forward-thinking album of lyrical expression rich in energy and grace. But the quartet is even better live.

PostGenre: Where does the title, Atalaya, come from?

Dezron Douglas: ‘Atalaya’ is the name of an elementary school in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I performed there for about a week before everything shut down because of the pandemic. 

I did a concert there with my trio, with Darius Jones on alto saxophone and Isaiah Spencer on drums. We went to the elementary school and played for the kids. That was a pretty tough crowd. [Laughing]. I’ve played some giant spaces for many people, but for some reason, the third and fourth graders were the roughest audience you could imagine. The teachers struggled to get the kids to sit down and be quiet. They wouldn’t stop talking to their friends. 

So, I just started playing the bass line from the song that became “Atalaya.” It was like those old EF Hutton commercials. Once I started playing that baseline, all the kids zoomed in on what we were doing and were quiet for the next thirty minutes. So, that’s where the title came from, the name of this elementary school.

But over the last few weeks, I’ve learned that ‘Atalaya’ means watchtower. That’s fitting because the record and the song itself have become a ceremonious piece. I start concerts with a call to the ancestors and give thanks and gratitude to the audience and my bandmates. It is a pure coincidence that everything lined up and fits the way it does with the title.

PG: Since you mentioned the ancestors, you worked with Pharaoh Sanders, who passed away recently. Do you have a favorite memory of working with him? 

DD: Pharaoh was the first person to bring me to Europe. We played in Italy and Paris. I’ve always been a fan of Pharaoh’s. Journey to the One was a favorite record of mine in college. Pharaoh took me under his wing for the next few years, and I’ve played with him quite a bit. I’ll never forget his sound. So much history in his sound. So much love too. He was like a father figure to me.

The first gig I ever played with him was at the Montreal Jazz Festival. We hit the bandstand and didn’t do much of a soundcheck. It was a quartet with William Henderson, myself, and Joe Farnsworth on the drums. Because I was playing with Pharaoh for the first time, my anxiety was through the roof. For the first song, we played “Giant Steps” at a lightspeed tempo. Pharaoh commenced to solo for at least twenty minutes, with me behind him, and the audience began to levitate. That power was always there when you played with Pharaoh. It has nothing to do with volume. I’m talking about power and intensity. After a twenty-minute saxophone solo, Pharaoh turned things over to the rest of the band. My shirt was already drenched from playing at such high intensity for over twenty minutes. 

William Henderson then took a piano solo, and Pharaoh walked all the way to the dressing room. He completely left the stage. But I was still there, behind William’s solo, for about fifteen minutes. Then they give it to me to solo. What am I supposed to do here? It’s a super fast version of “Giant Steps,” and I was just trying to get through the [chord] changes. We had been playing the song for about thirty-five minutes, and I said to myself, “Where’s Pharaoh?” 

Meanwhile, though, the audience is levitating. And I started having an out-of-body experience watching myself work on the bandstand. Then, Joe Farnsworth took a seven-minute drum solo. Halfway through the drum solo, Pharaoh came back out to the stage and casually walked to the mic. By the time he got to the mic, the drum solo ended, and Pharaoh commenced to take about another ten minutes on a solo. Man, we played that song for about forty-five minutes. And that was only the first song. We wanted to play three more tunes. We ended up playing for almost two hours, but it was beautiful. 

Pharaoh kept turning around, looking at me, and smiling. It was an experience that I’ll never forget. Every note that came out of Pharaoh’s horn was honest and from the heart. Genius. Very much Black. And very much calling spirits. Sometimes it felt like Pharaoh was meditating when he played his horn. It sometimes seemed like he wasn’t there and instead transported somewhere else. He went to another universe.

PG: This, interestingly, may connect to the album artwork for Atalaya because in the paw prints appear stars. Presumably, the prints represent the Black Lion, a figure on your first album of the same name (self-release, 2018). Would you mind elaborating a little on the album cover?

DD: Yeah, the album was made by an artist named Adama Coulibaly. I met him at Bill Saxton’s Place. One day, Adama walked into Bill Saxton’s Place and was dressed very snazzy with some of the designs you see from the album artwork. I said to him, “Wow, man, your outfit is dope.” And he told me it was his artwork. We instantly became friends, and I kept in touch with him. I checked out more of his work and loved it so much. I thought it would look great on my album. So, I called Adama and asked him if he would consider doing some album artwork, and he said he would do it. Because I had just gone into the studio to record the record, I sent Adama the unmixed tape; the rough mixes of maybe six or seven tracks off the record. 

As far as the artwork itself, I told Adama that I wanted a paw print on the album. That’s what he came up with. All I mentioned was a paw print, and the rest is from what he heard in the music. I love how it turned out. His art feels so powerful. 

PG: Digging into what he had heard, you composed most of the songs for ATALAYA before the pandemic, correct?

DD: Yeah. So, in November 2020, I reached out to George, Emilio, and Joe to ask if they wanted to make music with me as a formal quartet. As a composer, pretty much all the music I’ve written I’ve made with particular musicians in mind. So I began writing some music. I also revisited some stuff I had written before. I was inspired by the opportunity to fellowship with these three musicians. And so, songs like “Luna Moth”, “Coyoacán”, “Wheeping Birch”, and “More Coffee, Please” were all written with this band in mind.

I wrote “Foligno” in 2018 and dedicated that to Mario Guidi, whom I worked with a lot in Italy. Mario was Enrico Rava’s manager though he also had many other artists as his clients. Mario passed away around Christmas 2019, right before 2020. So, that song was already written, and I’ve previously played it with some other bands. But for the album, we brought new life to it. And the song “J Bird”, I wrote in college. 

PG: You wrote that song to honor Jackie McLean?

DD: Yeah, for my mentor, Jackie. But the way we play on the record is something I’ve never played. It was specific to the band. 

The bass solo piece, “Octopus”, was inspired by the Netflix documentary ‘Octopus Teacher.’ I loved working on the idea and decided to go into the studio and record it. 

Though I was writing the music during the lockdown, I didn’t see it that way because, for most of the pieces, I was writing music for those specific musicians. Knowing that I was writing for specific musicians and putting faith in God that we were going to be coming out of the pandemic made me not dwell on the pandemic. So, I tried to remove the pandemic element from it. The beauty of music is that something may have been written twenty, forty, or fifty years ago, but when you play it today, tomorrow, or next week, it’s a snapshot of when you play it. It is a taste of what that music is to you in the moment you play it. 

PG: Related to the pandemic, much of your work during the lockdowns was in live streamed duo performances with Brandee Younger. Do you feel those duo performances influenced you as you wrote pieces for the album?

DD: Honestly, no. They are two separate entities with two different forms of communication. They were parallel and happening around the same time. But by the time I started writing music at the end of 2020, we had stopped doing live streams. We did do a few CD release live streams because we had released the album. But both settings were two different situations.

PG: Since you mentioned the importance of who is in the band with you, what led you to decide George, Joe, and Emilio were the right artists for this group?

DD: Well, for one, I love the idea of having a generation gap in music-making. I did something like that with Johnathan Blake. We played two consecutive holiday weekends at Smalls [Jazz Club] with the band that we call The Generation Gap, which was Johnathan, Immanuel Wilkins, Joel Ross, and myself. I’m younger than Johnathan, and Joel and Immanuel are younger than me. I liked the idea of having a generation gap like that in a band. For years, I was always the baby in the band while working with some great masters who shaped who I am. But I’m now at a point in my life where I can make a cross-generation band like that happen.

Specifically with the musicians in this group, I’ve been a fan of George’s music since 2000. We were first introduced through Abraham Burton and Eric McPherson, who we both rehearsed with in their studio in the Village. George and I have been friends ever since. I love his work. We never really got to play his music or my music together before this band though. We kept bumping into each other over a four or five-year period and talking about working together, and this group seemed like the right opportunity.

As for Joe, I’ve been a fan of his since we first met. He was only thirteen or fourteen years old at the time, playing with Donald Harrison, Jr. at the Victoria Jazz Festival. I was there working with Cyrus Chestnut’s trio. Joe ran into me and told me he enjoyed my music. I was like, “Who’s this kid?” And [trio drummer] Neal Smith said, “Oh man, Joe Dyson. Watch out for him.” And lo and behold, Joe got into Berklee. While he was studying at Berklee, his name spread far. Everyone couldn’t wait for him to join us in New York. We’ve shared the bandstand many times. I feel like we have a nice group together. The bass and drum combination is very important to me. That’s the central nervous system of a good vibration. 

I’ve known Emilio since he was twelve years old. He was studying with Rene McLean, and I was a Rene fan. We played this club in Brooklyn, and Emilio sat in with us. We got to a tune called “Third World Expression,” which is very difficult for many reasons. It takes a weird form, and I was surprised that Emilio knew the song. But Rene told me, “No, he doesn’t know how it goes, but he’ll hear it.” And, sure enough, he heard every change by the time he got halfway through it. It was right. It was beautiful. And I’ve watched his development through the years and I’ve been a fan of his. I love where he’s going with how he speaks on his horn. 

With this group, everyone is an equal part. I think that is what a band should always be. And everyone gives 110%. We communicate on a high level. I’m glad it’s working out.

PG: Going back to the compositions for a minute, one track is called “More Coffee Please.” You even have a suite, commissioned by The Jazz Gallery, dedicated to coffee. Why coffee?

DD: I’ve enjoyed coffee for many years. But during the pandemic, it became an obsession. I got heavily into brewing it, talking about it, and learning about it. And in the process, I realized I’m not the only one who feels that way about the subject. 

There are a lot of people who love coffee. Both here in the United States and all over the world. Certain countries don’t have a coffee culture, but others have very strong ones. During my time in lockdown, I was on social media and saw how everyone does coffee. How everyone feels about coffee. Some people don’t drink coffee, some people drink tea. 

Coffee has always been something that I like to have in the morning and something that’s heavily supplied in my house. So I wrote that song, “More Coffee Please.” And then it just became a thing. When I got commissioned by the Jazz Gallery to write a suite, I decided to write about something on my mind. Something that I like to do. And I ended up feeling very driven to write a suite about coffee. I feel like if you’re gonna write about something, you should write about something you like to do. And it just so happens to be universal. Everyone conjures up some memory when they smell coffee, even if they don’t drink it.

PG: Do you see some connection between making coffee and creating music?

DD: Well, many people make coffee, but not everyone pays attention to detail. I sometimes get into all the details. I pay attention to the details that I like. I feel with coffee, the work and love you put into it will always yield something special. It’s the same thing with music.

If you are making music for honest reasons – to express yourself – you should always yield something beneficial for yourself. The same thing goes for the listener. A pure listener will go to a concert because they want to receive something. They have an open heart and an open mind and will listen to anything. They know that if they listen honestly, they will receive what’s being expressed to them, even if they don’t understand it. That’s also how people discover new music. It is the same thing with coffee. You might have some beans that are not too great, but if you decide you’re gonna make a cup of coffee with those beans, it always yields a special cup.

PG: Since we mentioned the Jazz Gallery a little while ago, you mentioned in an interview for the Gallery’s blog Jazz Speaks, about forming a rock band. Is that your work with Trey Anasasio or something else?

DD: Yeah, Trey Anastasio, the lead guitarist from Phish. I have been in his band for a year now. I joined after the untimely passing of founding bassist Tony Michaelis. I’m currently on tour with Trey. We played in Portland, Maine, last night and we’re here in Boston to play tonight.

PG: Do you feel your experience with that band has at all shaped your work with your quartet?

DD: To be honest with you, I feel the same I’ve always been before I joined Trey. I’ve been playing the bass the same way since I was a kid. There’s only one way I know how to play the bass. And that’s just to play it. I’m grateful that’s what Trey asked me to do. He just wants me to play bass and fellowship with the band. It doesn’t matter what kind of music I’m playing. I’m still going to be me. 

PG: On the topic of moving beyond solely “jazz.” You were in the band The John L. Nelson Project, where Louis Hayes led the group in performing compositions by Prince’s father. [Ed. note: you can hear the group’s record Don’t Play with Love (Ropeadope, 2018) here.] How did you get involved in that project?

DD: It was a surreal experience. Prince was an icon for everyone, but even more so in the Black community. Prince was a heavy icon. I’ll never forget when Lou called me on the phone. He said “My cousin Sharon [L. Nelson] wants us to go in the studio and do some music that her father wrote.” He was trying to remember the name of her father. Then he remembered it was John Nelson. 

Wait a minute. Lou is one of the greatest jazz musicians ever. Great bandleader. And his cousin is Prince, an R&B and funk icon. What in the world? Lou knew that his cousin, Prince, was a musician as well. They just never really followed each other’s careers. Pretty epic.  

Anyway, once we realized who the composer was, everyone in the group went down a rabbit hole where we discovered new things and found that John Nelson was a great composer of jazz and the blues. His music sounds like a cross between Duke Ellington and Charles Mingus. It was heavily influenced by Bird. It’s beautiful Black music. 

PG: You even recorded the album at Prince’s Paisley Park.

DD: Yeah, we wound up in Paisley Park. We recorded for three days in Paisley Park, which was an amazing experience. We were not in Prince’s main studio, Studio A, where he recorded often. Studio A is exactly the way he left it. It was amazing. 

The first day we took a tour of Paisley Park. For it, we were required to turn in our cell phones. I was so tempted to take pictures. I did take one picture from outside Prince’s house and sent it to Brandee [Younger]. At the time, she was even more excited about it than I was. I didn’t fully appreciate the magnitude of where we were. I was focused on music and getting inside of the compositions. But after the second day, when we were in the studio recording, you could feel Prince’s spirit – his ashes are even there- and around that music, you see the history and importance of where we were.

Atalaya is out now on International Anthem. It can be purchased on Bandcamp. The quartet will perform at the legendary Village Vanguard from March 19, 2024 to March 24, 2024. More information can be found on the Vanguard’s website. You can read more about Dezron Douglas on his Facebook page.

Photo credit: Deneka Peniston