Placido Domingo

I’m a fan first. I believed Duke Ellington when he said there’s no bad music, just some of it is presented badly. As a kid, hanging around Church Street, the presentation of music was so powerful, I couldn’t help but jump for joy. I had discovered art, or truth, or whatever you want to call it; I had seen a light I’d follow forever.

Composing makes me feel like I’ve finally gotten all the way up the ladder as a musician.

Any particular style of playing which represents an authentic way of musical feeling is genuine expression.

When I cannot sing my heart, I can only speak my mind.

As a young cellist I had played to an audience that had included Pablo Casals and reacted with poor, nervous playing. Casals sought me out after the concert and praised me highly, somewhat easing the pain and thinking him a very kind man.

Jazz will endure just as long people hear it through their feet instead of their brains.

I like what I hear other guys doing, but the thing that really attracts me is melodic playing.

There is something about music that keeps its distance even at the moment that it engulfs us. It is at the same time outside and away from us and inside and part of us. In one sense it dwarfs us, and in another we master it. We are led on and on, and yet in some strange way we never lose control.

What we hear is the quality of our listening.

Bebop was about change, about evolution. It wasn’t about standing still and being safe.

Monk taught me more about music composition than anyone else on 52nd Street.

You can practice to learn technique, but I’m more interested in conceiving something in the moment.

If you have something in your life worth celebrating, you can put it in a blues song.

I don’t need words. It’s all in the phrasing.

I’m not thinking about what needs to be on the radio. I’m not thinking about anything other than – I’m just going to let this music come out of me and not have any sort of preconceived notion of what I should do. I’m just going to do it.