Connie Crothers

I always had a deep feeling to be one with the very minute I’m in.

Music should strike fire from the heart of man and bring tears to the eyes of woman.

So What or Kind of Blue were done in that era, the right hour, the right day. It’s over; it’s on the record.

I had a really good time in New Orleans, although I had some very tragic times in Baton Rouge. Some guys beat me up and threw my horn away. ‘Cause I had a beard, then, and long hair like the Beatles.

There has always been a tension between Jazz as a commercial music and as an art form.

You don’t know what you like, you like what you know. In order to know what you like, you have to know everything.

Montreal was a very active jazz center until club owners started putting in strippers instead of music. Before long, there was nothing to hear.

If you can’t play the Blues you might as well hang it up.

The only thing better than singing is more singing.

I wanted to sustain a note like a singer. I wanted to phrase a note like a saxist. By bending the strings, by trilling my hand – and I have big fat hands – I could achieve something that approximated a vocal vibrato. I could sustain a note. I wanted to connect my guitar to human emotions. By fooling with the feedback between my amplifier and instrument, I started experimenting with sounds that expressed my feelings, whether happy or sad, bouncy or bluesy. I was looking for ways to let my guitar sing.

Hell, nobody knows where jazz is going to go. There may be a kid right now in Chitlin Switch, Georgia, who is going to come along and upset everybody.

When you hear somebody with balls, that’s me.

I don’t do something because I think it will sell 30 million albums. I couldn’t care less. If it sells one, it sells one.

Music is the tool to express life – and all that makes a difference.

Music chooses her musicians.

I don’t try to please when I play. I try to cure.