I grew up with the piano. I learned its language as I learned to speak.
If music is sound and came from silence, then silence is potentially greater than sound.
I don’t like recording studios – except my own, which is just a little room above the garage.
If you already have a piece of music ingrained in your body, why would you not play it?
Jazz is there and gone. It happens. You have to be present for it. That simple.
Once we’re inside a tune, we can do anything with it.
If I’m not a jazz player all the time, I’ve at least been cued in to what I do by jazz.
Your own music comes out of your head and emotions, but it’s not etched in your system.
When you’re on stage you have a very strange knowledge of what the audience is. It isn’t exactly a sound – it’s a hum, like the streets.
The way I think about the practicing, it is my undercover work.
I’m my own most merciless critic onstage.
Jazz is one of the least learnable art forms.
We really never know what we’re gonna play when we get on stage.
Music always turns into music. As soon as I play a key, push a key down, there’s no theory any more. When I go and I hear a sound on the keyboard, all theories go out the window.
One thing you learn: if you want to reveal yourself, you also have to know where to stop.
I cannot say what I think is right about Music. I only know the rightness of it.
