Remembering Mike Smith
by Dave Kane
As most of you reading this already know, Mike Smith passed away this week on January 2nd 2006. He was 59- a tragically young age for anyone but particularly so in the case of a gifted artist who still had so much to say. Mike was also my friend for 28 years and as such, the personal loss for me is acute indeed, as it is undoubtedly for so many who knew and loved him. As with the loss of another dear friend last year, Pam Bricker, I thought it would be both therapeutic for me and informative for others for me to record a few thoughts about Mike.
I met Mike in 1976 shortly after I arrived in DC. I had seen him play at the Rogue and Jar jazz club. He was playing then with Marc Cohen (now Copland) and Terry Plumeri. They were playing mostly freely improvised sets and although some of what they created was lost on my inexperienced ear I knew that there was some deep interplay at work. Though all the musicians were first rate, I was struck in particular by Mike's playing. I had never seen a drummer play so expressively and intelligently- from a whisper to a powerful roar and with an electric empathy with the other players. I was so impressed that I was too intimidated to go up to him and tell him how amazed I was. Even though he was a physically unassuming guy he seemed to be about 9 feet tall when he sat down at the drums.
Somewhere around 1977 I snared the house gig (trio) at The Wharf in Old Town Alexandria, which then had a jazz policy. In a moment of audacity for a greenhorn such as I was then, I decided to call Mike for the gig. Much to my amazement, he agreed and that began 28 years of a close musical and personal friendship. Bob Gibson was on bass and we held the gig for over a year before The Wharf switched their music policy. It was the first of many more gigs to come (and not the last time a club changed their music policy after we played there). Most notably was the quartet we had through the late eighties and early nineties with Drew Gress and Glenn Cashman. Some of the most joyous music making I’ve ever done was with that band, Mike was in his element then with the music we were playing- free jazz, ECM-ish stuff and a lot of originals- and when we were on, some of the stuff he came up with then was often breathtaking. As much as we played together, it’s a shame we didn’t record more.
One can go to music school or take some lessons and learn a few useful things but for a jazz player, nothing is more instructive than getting to play with great players. I was lucky enough to run into Mike early in my apprenticeship and I never had to think about which drummer I was going to call from that day forward. The level of his playing definitely lifted my own. I confess that, at the time, Mike's complex style sometimes caused me to lose "one" and I would get lost in the form more frequently than I care to remember but he never displayed any frustration or displeasure with my musical clumsiness- quite the contrary, he was nothing but positive and his reassurance and encouragement resulted in a gradual increase in my confidence. It was the catalyst I needed to inspire me to improve my musicianship.
I have had two great teachers in my life: Dr Asher Zlotnik from whom I learned ear training and composition and Mike, from whose playing and presence I learned everything else, especially about what it meant to be a good player. I asked him once how he got to be such a monster and after shaking off the flattery, he aphoristically replied, “I just try to listen and play the beats evenly.” It was that simple for him. Although it may seem obvious, it remains essential advice for any musician.
Although Mike enjoyed talking about music, he didn't like to talk about the music we played very much. He was actually in horror of verbalising anything about what we were playing lest rational discussion about something as innately irrational as improvising music would adversely intrude upon the creative process. We would exchange the minimum amount of information necessary to play a tune. Everything important was “said” on the bandstand and integrated into the act of music making. Mike rarely looked up when playing- only for a head cue or an ending. The communication was exclusively musical and inevitably as a result, a real ESP developed especially in the band with Drew and Glenn.
Mike wasn’t just a great drummer; he was one of the most innately sensitive musicians I have ever met. He never played “time”, instead, each beat (or omission of the beat) was an individual musical decision for him, alive in the moment. That sometimes led him to lay out for a while. Though it sounds odd to say, at those times, when Mike layed out he layed out better than any drummer I’ve ever worked with, meaning he had a knack for choosing the perfect entrances and exits. He also wielded an impressive dynamic palette, and although he used a small four drum set, his use of dynamics gave him access to many different colours and textures. If Mike had a weakness as a player, it was this uber-sensitivity and his Zelig like ability to adapt to whomever he was playing with. If a player rushed or dragged Mike would go with it without fighting too much. On the other hand, when he was playing with strong players, he would more than rise to the occasion.
Trading fours or eights with him was an object lesson in terror for many musicians. He could immediately shift and abstract the time in various diabolical ways and if you weren’t rock-sure of your inner pulse, you could be lost in seconds.
Mike wasn’t terribly fond of open-ended drum solos unless they were a logical result of an inexorable buildup in the preceding music. Instead he preferred to solo over ostinati and he enjoyed trading fours/eights etc. but again, only if the music built up to it properly. He was a "social" player, preferring to solo with the accompaniment of the group than just the standard perfunctory everyone-walk-off-the-stage drum solo. When he did take those open solos, they were awe-inspiring. He always kept the form in his head though that would probably be a surprise to many of his listeners due to the extreme abstraction of the pulse I mentioned before. His solos were logically constructed and reached powerful climaxes. As great a soloist as he was, I think his real joy was in being an accompanist though. I told him once that I thought of him more as a painter than as a drummer and he said, “I think that may be the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
He was not ambitious ever in pursuing his drum career- had he been more of a self-promoter, undoubtedly he would have been more visible on the national/international scene. His characteristic modesty restrained him from aggressively seeking work. Nonetheless, good players heard about him- Steve Gadd heard him play once and remarked that Mike was “the most impressive exponent of Tony Williams’ style I’ve ever heard”. Despite the implication of stylistic derivation contained in his remark, it was quite a compliment.Steve;s oberservation is correct- Mike’s style had initially been based on Tony’s style, but over the years, he had personalized and extrapolated it to the point that some drummers started emulating his style.
In any event, strong players heard about him and sought him out: Toots Thielman, Don Thompson, John Abercrombie. Adam Makovich, Marc Copland, Andy Laverne, Dave Liebman, Mike and Randy Brecker, Art Lande, Charlie Haden, Steve Kuhn, Steve Slagle, Mose Allison, Bob Mintzer, Steve Swallow are just some of the names I remember Mike had played with though I’m sure there were many more- Mike would never talk about who he had played with unless directly asked- he was the opposite of a name dropper.
His was not a false modesty either, it was the genuine article and his self-effacing attitude was refreshing in a business where egoism runs rampant. He was wholly dedicated to creating Art with the drums and while he had enough of a healthy ego to play as confidently as he did, he never ever “pulled rank” on other players, no matter how weak they may have been. No doubt he could have and probably nobody would have minded very much. He made everyone feel like they were on a peer level with him. The worst thing I ever heard him say about a musician was “he’s a really nice guy” and he meant it too- no sarcasm. He also never engaged in the “I sucked tonight” self-flagellating post mortems that many musicians are prey to. His ego management and the confidence he displayed about his own abilities was healthy and well regulated.
I’ve dwelled on his musical skills here because many of you who did not know him that well were probably drawn to read this from having heard him play but I assure you that as impressive as he was as a musician he was also a terrific human being as well.
Mike was a very kind, generous person who not only treated fellow musicians well, but was very respectful of absolutely anyone he had any contact with. Although he was quiet and pretty much kept to himself when playing at clubs, he really liked people and treated everyone with warmth andrespect regardless of their station in life. Although he never had much money, he would readily give what he had to others less fortunate, and I know of at least one example where he took in a homeless person and fed and put him up for a few days. Of course, he never told anyone he did these things- you had to find out accidentally. Who knows how many other acts of kindness he was party to that we didn’t find out about?
I suppose it’s natural that we remember the recently departed through rose-coloured glasses. Well that’s if that's the case then I saw him through those same glasses in life.There were many times while he was alive that Iremember having discussions with others who knew Mike.It was generally agreed that Mike really was an extraordinarily good human being: with love for all and an admirable dedication to pursuing Art purely for the joy of it.We sometimes joked and called him “Saint Mike” behind his back- not in any ironic way either- he really did seem saintly at times. I suppose as a fairly normal human being he wasn’t perfect, though I honestly don’t know of any major personality defect he suffered from. He refused to play tennis in short pants/ he watched a lot of TV. he got irritable when hungry, and yeah, he smoked, but that’s about the worst I can say about him. I don’t know how many lifetimes you have to live to get to that level but I suspect it’s a boatload more than most of us have already lived.
I can’t conclude this reminiscence of Mike without mentioning his sense of humour. In addition to the positive characteristics I’ve described above, Mike was whip-smart and he was very funny too. He also laughed easily himself. I’m confident when I state that I’ve shared more laughs with Mikey than any person I’ve ever known. Even in his final days he kept his wit about him. The last time I saw him, two days before he died, after apologizing for being a poor host (!), he said, referring to the incredible outpouring of emotional and financial support from everyone, “Dave, I should have hit on this scheme years ago! I could have been rich by now!” . In actuality he was overwhelmed and humbled at the response his illness had triggered and he was deeply grateful for the many friends that reached out to him at the end.
And so now he’s gone and he is so greatly missed but fortunately he leaves behind his wonderful playing behind on CDs and videotapes and I can smile through my sadness knowing that in his characteristically quiet way, even now Mike continues to enrich our lives through the example of his beautiful life: a life well lived.
Thanks Mike, for your phenomenal playing, the music we made together, the love, the joy, the countless laughs, and especially your warm spirit and know that you changed a lot of lives for the better. You were defintely one of the Cats and you won't be forgotten while I'm around. Most of all, I'm grateful that you were my friend.
Peace
P.S. I recorded four albums with Mike: March Heir, the soon to be released Tekke which features what is probably his finest work on record, Grey Matters and New Shades (for Eddie Vann). We were due to record our second CD with Dave Liebman and Drew again this February. Moral: don’t postpone.)
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