Remembering superstar music producer Quincy Jones : NPR

TERRY GROSS, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. I’m Terry Gross. Today, we remember Quincy Jones. He died Sunday at the age of 91. In his New York Times obit, music critic Ben Ratliff described Jones as one of the most powerful forces in American popular music for more than a century. Jones started his career as a trumpeter in Lionel Hampton’s big band in the early ’50s, but he never became a noted instrumentalist. What made him famous and wealthy was his work as an arranger, composer and record producer, work that spans from the big bands through bebop, pop, movie soundtracks, TV themes and hip-hop.

He arranged or produced recordings for Sinatra, Ray Charles, Aretha, Dinah Washington, George Benson and Ice-T. And he produced the Michael Jackson albums “Off The Wall,” “Bad” and the bestselling album of all time, “Thriller.” His music has been sampled in many hip-hop recordings, and his 1962 recording “Soul Bossa Nova” was used as the theme to the “Austin Powers” films. The multimedia company Quincy Jones Entertainment produced the sitcoms “The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air,” “In The House” and the sketch show “Mad TV.”

I spoke with him in 2001, after the release of his memoir, “Q,” and a four-CD box set by the same name of music featuring him as a trumpeter, arranger, composer or producer. We started with a sampling of tracks from that collection.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “MAKIN’ WHOOPEE”)

DINAH WASHINGTON: (Singing) Another bride, another June, another sunny honeymoon, another season, another reason for making whoopee.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “MISTY”)

SARAH VAUGHAN: (Singing) Look at me. I’m as helpless as a kitten up a tree, and I feel like I’m clinging to a cloud. I can’t understand. I get misty just holding your hand. Walk my way.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “I’M BEGINNING TO SEE THE LIGHT”)

ELLA FITZGERALD: (Singing) I never cared much for moonlit skies. I never winked back at fireflies. But now that the stars are in your eyes, I’m beginning to see the light. I never went in for afterglow.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “FLY ME TO THE MOON”)

FRANK SINATRA: (Singing) Fly me to the moon. Let me play among the stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. In other words, hold my hand. In other words, baby, kiss me.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG “BEAT IT”)

MICHAEL JACKSON: (Singing) They told him, don’t you ever come around here – don’t want to see your face. You better disappear. The fire’s in their eyes, and their words are really clear, so beat it. But you want to be bad. Just beat it. Beat it.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “BACK ON THE BLOCK”)

BIG DADDY KANE, ICE-T, KOOL MOE DEE, TEVIN CAMPBELL AND MELLE MEL: (Rapping) Back, back on the block. Back, back on the block. I’m back on the block so we can rock with soul, rhythm, blues, bebop and hip-hop. Back on the block, back on the block.

ICE-T: (Rapping) Ice-T. Let me kick my credentials, a young player bred in South Central LA.

GROSS: That’s the sampling of music from the four-CD box set “Q” that was released at the same time as his memoir “Q.” That was back in 2001, when I spoke with him. One of the first musicians he became good friends with was Ray Charles. They met when Charles was 16 and Jones was 14. I asked Quincy Jones how they met.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED NPR BROADCAST)

QUINCY JONES: I think it was at the Elks Club, Terry, where we used to, after we played two jobs – we’d work from 7 to 10 in the white tennis clubs, where we’d play music of the – popular music of the day, “To Each His Own” and “Room Full Of Roses.” And then at 10 o’clock, we’d go play the Black clubs, the Black and Tan, the Rocking Chair and the Washington Educational and Social Club. And we’d play for strippers, and we sang.

GROSS: Oh, really (laughter)?

JONES: We had choreography. We had everything. As kids, we were pretty cocky because we had a great band. We could read music very well, and we did everything. It was a show band, too, so we got most of the jobs that came around. It was nice. We played with Billie Holiday when we were – in ’48, behind her. And then in ’49, we played with Billy Eckstine and Cab Calloway and all the bands that came through. So we were pretty confident in those days. And the band just kept getting tighter because we rehearsed a lot.

GROSS: You said that you admired Ray Charles’ independence. He was 16 years old. He was blind, but he had his own apartment. He got around town himself. He had a girlfriend. I mean, he had a lot of things that you wanted.

JONES: Yes, he did (laughter). He had his own apartment, too, and two suits. It was amazing. And I guess what impressed me the most with Ray is that he was so independent, and his sightlessness did not hinder him at all. It’s one of the treasured, cherished friendships that I really have because as kids, we used to talk about everything. He’d showed me how to write music in brail, Dizzy Gillespie songs like “Emanon” and “Be Bop,” et cetera.

And we used to dream about the future. Like, wouldn’t it be great to work with a symphony orchestra? One day, we’re going to do that. One day, we’re going to have three girlfriends each, you know (laughter)? One day, we’re going to do movies together – we’re going to do all of that stuff. And we did it. That’s what’s amazing. We did, you know, “In The Heat Of The Night” together. And we did “We Are The World,” all of those things, everything – the girls (laughter). So it’s amazing to dream and have your dreams executed like that.

GROSS: Well, I thought I’d play a 1959 recording that you arranged for Ray Charles. And this is from “The Genius Of Ray Charles” album, which was recorded in 1959. We’re going to hear “Let The Good Times Roll.” Would you like to say anything about this track?

JONES: I would just like to add that we had half of Count Basie’s band on that session and half of Duke Ellington’s band on that session. And in those days, that’s when I first started to work with Phil Ramone, the engineer, who’s now a producer. And Ahmet Ertegun, Nesuhi Ertegun and Jerry Wexler came by because in those days, what you heard was what you got. It wasn’t about fixing in the mix. There was nothing to mix.

GROSS: This is Ray Charles, arrangement by Quincy Jones, “Let The Good Times Roll.”

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “LET THE GOOD TIMES ROLL”)

RAY CHARLES: (Singing) Hey, everybody. Let’s have some fun. You only live but once, and when you’re dead, you’re done. So let the good times roll. I said let the good times roll. I don’t care if you’re young or old. You ought to get together and let the good times roll. Don’t sit there mumbling, talking trash. If you want to have a ball, you got to go out and spend some cash and let the good times roll now. I’m talking about the good times. Well, it makes no difference whether you’re young or old. All you got to do is get together and let the good times roll.

GROSS: Your first important music job was with the Lionel Hampton big band. You got that job while you were still in high school. How did he hire you when you were still in school?

JONES: I had written a suite that I’ve been working on for a long time called “From The Four Winds.” And it was almost a descriptive piece. And I didn’t understand theory too well then, but I just went ahead straight. It didn’t stop me from writing. I didn’t understand key signatures or anything, and I would say silly things on the top of a trumpet part, like a note. When you play B naturals, make B naturals a half-step lower ’cause they sound funny if they’re B naturals. And some guys said, idiot. Just put a flat on the third line, and it’s a key signature. And so I did – because it didn’t bother me that I didn’t understand that ’cause I knew eventually I’d learn it.

And so I gave this arrangement to – submitted this to Lionel Hampton. And he said, you wrote this? I said, yeah. I played trumpet, too. He said, yeah. Well, he said, how’d you like to join my band? Please. Are you kidding? And so they had little brown leather bags for your trumpet then. I had that and just very few toilet articles and so forth. And I went and sat on that bus so nobody would change their mind. And I wouldn’t have to ask the people at home whether I could go or not. And sure enough, everybody got on one by one. Hamp said hi, and I felt secure. Then Gladys Hampton got on the bus and said, uh-uh (ph). What is that child doing on this bus? And she said, no, sonny. You get off the bus. She said, We’ll try to talk later, but you go to school.

And I was destroyed. And so I got a scholarship to Boston, to the Berklee College of Music. And I got the call. A friend named Janet Thurlow was singing with the band, and she reminded them. And they called, said, we’d like you to be with the band. I was 18 then, and I was ready. I told the school I’d be back, but I guess down inside, you know, when you go with a band like that, you never go back.

GROSS: Now, you said that you were afraid that, when you were playing with Hampton – that Parker or Thelonious Monk might show up in the audience, and you were worried they’d laugh at what you had to wear in the band. What did you have to wear in the Hampton band?

JONES: Well, that incident happened when we were playing at a place on Broadway called – right next door to Birdland, I mean, totally adjacent. And both places were downstairs. And we had to wear Tyrolean hats, purple shawl collar coats and Bermuda shorts.

GROSS: Bermuda shorts. Why?

JONES: Oh, my God. The whole band…

GROSS: Why did you have to wear shorts?

JONES: I don’t know. That’s just Hamp’s idea of – Hamp was like a rock ‘n’ roll band, and he was the first rock ‘n’ roll band ’cause he attacked an audience like a rock ‘n’ roll band – no prisoners. And he knew how to get them, too.

GROSS: Well, some of the tenor solos are almost like a rock ‘n’ roll band, too. Yeah.

JONES: Yes. And they’d walk in the theaters. They’d walk – they had thin-soled shoes and walk over the audience’s heads with these thin-soled shoes on top of their chairs, you know? It was absolutely incredible. He had this sense of show business, but he had a lot of music in the band because, you know, they had people like Wes Montgomery and Charlie Mingus and Fats Navarro and Clifford Brown – amazing musicians in the band. And I loved Hamp for having that ambidexterity because he liked great music, but he also liked to level his audience and take no prisoners. Until they were wrung out, he was not satisfied.

GROSS: So did any of your bebop friends end up seeing you in that band that night?

JONES: Well, that particular night, he had this favorite thing he’d like to do. He’d have everybody – he’d get his drumsticks and start a whole line, almost like a conga line. And the saxophone section would follow him around the audience, and he’d go around and beat the drumsticks on everybody’s table. The trumpets and trombones were right behind. We’re playing “Flying Home.” Then he’d go upstairs. I said, oh, my God. Clifford Brown and I said, if he goes upstairs, we may run into Charlie Parker and Bud Powell and Mingus and all these great musicians.

And Hamp went upstairs, and he’s playing his drumsticks all over the awnings. And the guys are saying, what is going on here? He’d even go so far as to get in a taxicab with the saxophone section and go to another club maybe three blocks away and play with the saxophone section, the band back at the – meanwhile back at the ranch, we’re still playing. So it was quite an experience. He had no shame. And he was a great musician – one of the great times of my life.

GROSS: So did Parker see you in your Bermuda shorts?

JONES: Oh, yes. But on top of that, Parker would come next door. Bird would come next door. He loved to read music, and he was starring next door with, like, the 52nd Street All Stars, the Bebop All Stars. And they were looking for him next door. It’s time for him to play a set, and he’s sitting over there in our band, playing second tenor ’cause he loved to read music. And he’s sitting for an hour while people are next door, waiting to hear him as this genius of the 20th century. And he’s over there, playing second tenor parts to practice his reading ’cause all the musicians read music back then.

GROSS: So playing with the Hampton band, did you get an appreciation of the value of, like, show business in music? Or did you come to hate it and want something that threw that out the window kind of like Parker threw show business values, you know…

JONES: No.

GROSS: …Out the window?

JONES: No, no, no because we were weaned and, I mean, trained in Seattle. That’s the way we had to do it in Seattle, too. We had to play schottisches. We had to play rhythm and blues. We had to play stripper music. We played – did comedy. I mean, the trombone player and myself had a comedy team called Dexedrine and Benzedrine. Major Pickford – we used to do – we used to steal all of the comedy lines from the older guys, and we’d imitate them and wear hats and wine bottles in our pockets and stuff. It was insane.

But, no, not at all. We were used to that. We were used to that. He’d have gloves for the whole trumpet section that would shine in the dark, and you’d do kind of hand choreography and so forth. And people could forget, you know, that those bands back there were basically to – dance bands to just make people want to feel good dancing. And coincidentally, a great innovation crawled through that platform like Charlie Parker and the Billy Eckstine band and people in Miles Davis and so forth, Dizzy Gillespie from Cab Calloway. But these monsters, major musicians, happened to be in bands who were basically there for people to have a good time and dance, and it was about entertainment.

JONES: And it was ironic because the underlying attitude with all of the bebop musicians is that we have heard Stravinsky now. We’ve done this, and we want to be pure artists. We don’t want to entertain anymore. We don’t want to sing. We don’t want to have to dance or move or entertain an audience.

GROSS: We’ll hear more of my 2001 interview with Quincy Jones after a short break. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF BILL COSBY AND QUINCY JONES’ “MONTY, IS THAT YOU?”)

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. We’re remembering Quincy Jones. He died Sunday. Let’s get back to the interview we recorded in 2001. When we left off, we were talking about his early career, when he played in Lionel Hampton’s big band.

Well, you know, one of the things you say about the Lionel Hampton band bus – and this might have something to do with why Gladys Hampton wanted you off the bus – was that there were four different sections of guys on the bus. Why didn’t you describe how that broke down?

JONES: (Laughter) Well, they had up front were the holy rollers, I guess. And then they had the drinkers. You know, then they had the guys that indulged in sweet wheat, in giggle grass. And they had the guys that were the hardcore, you know, like, mainliners, really.

GROSS: Which section did you sit in?

JONES: The sweet wheat (laughter). We were very young then, and I was 18 when I went with that band. And you’d bounce back between that or trying to figure out how to make that work with Mogen David wine or…

GROSS: (Laughter).

JONES: Manischewitz. It was ridiculous.

GROSS: Well, the first recording that you made was with the Lionel Hampton band. This was in 1952. It’s also your first recorded composition and first recorded arrangement. It’s called “Kingfish.” Why don’t you say something about what you think of this musically now?

JONES: I look at the whole book and my whole life, I guess, as it’s like somebody else. I don’t know where I had the spirit or the stick-to-itiveness to write something like that then because, you know, No. 1, I knew that music was my ticket out of the life that I had, you know, the thug life and dysfunctional family life. And it was like wonderland to arrange, and the idea of orchestration and arrangements and composition. And that to this day is what my core skill is an arranger and orchestrator and composer. I was just so happy to have a surrounding environment where that was encouraged all the time.

GROSS: OK, so here it is. 1952, Quincy Jones with the Lionel Hampton band, “Kingfish.”

(SOUNDBITE OF LIONEL HAMPTON AND HIS ORCHESTRA’S “KINGFISH”)

GROSS: From the early 1950s, that was Quincy Jones’ first recording with the Lionel Hampton orchestra. It’s called “Kingfish.”

JONES: Terry, by the way, I think that’s the first recorded solo I ever had on record – the first record I was ever involved with, and I think it’s one of the only solos I have on record.

GROSS: Why didn’t you solo more often?

JONES: I don’t know. I was getting more and more pulled into the quicksand of writing. And then about a year or so later, after we begged Hamp to get Gigi Gryce and Benny Golson and Clifford Brown in the band, sitting next to Art Farmer and Clifford Brown and Benny Bailey helped me get into writing quickly (laughter) because they were – Clifford Brown was probably one of the greatest trumpet players that ever lived. Unbelievable.

GROSS: We’re listening to my 2001 interview with Quincy Jones. He died Sunday at the age of 91. We’ll hear more of the interview after a break. I’m Terry Gross, and this is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “BROADWAY”)

LIONEL HAMPTON: Thank you. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. This is Lionel Hampton speaking, and welcome to our bandstand here. And this tune we’re playing now is called “Broadway.” You better believe it.

(SOUNDBITE OF QUINCY JONES’ “SANFORD AND SON THEME (THE STREETBEATER)”)

GROSS: That’s the theme from the TV series “Sanford And Son,” composed by Quincy Jones. Coming up, we continue our conversation with Quincy Jones.

(SOUNDBITE OF QUINCY JONES’ “SANFORD AND SON THEME (THE STREETBEATER)”)

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. I’m Terry Gross. We’re remembering composer, arranger and producer Quincy Jones. He died Sunday at the age of 91. His work spanned from the big bands through bebop, pop, movie soundtracks, TV themes and hip-hop. He arranged or produced recordings for Sinatra, Ray Charles, Aretha, Dinah Washington and Ice-T, and he produced the Michael Jackson albums “Off The Wall,” “Bad” and “Thriller.” His music has been sampled in many hip-hop recordings, and his 1962 recording “Soul Bossa Nova” was used as the theme for the “Austin Powers” films. His multimedia company produced the TV shows “The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air,” “In The House” and “Mad TV.”

Now, I’ve got to move to a 1962 recording. This is the “Soul Bossa Nova,” which became the theme for “Austin Powers,” the movie…

JONES: Yes, it did.

GROSS: …Which just goes to show how this epitomizes a certain ’60s sound. What was the occasion for writing this originally?

JONES: We had just come back from two State Department tours with Dizzy Gillespie. The first was in the Middle East, some place in Pakistan, right there, you know? Abadan in Iran, and Syria, Beirut. And we came back to the White House correspondents’ ball in Washington, and they liked what we had done, and so they sent us out to South America after that. And, naturally, a Black man is going to play all these kamikaze places. They’d have the Cypriots stoning the embassy in Athens, and they’d rush us over from Ankara, Turkey – get in there quick, you know, almost like ground troops, and send the Black man over there. And so the same students that stoned the embassy were all down front in the front row and everything else. And it was pretty scary, really, ’cause we didn’t know what their conflict was all about, really.

And after the concert, the same students started crawling over the top of the stage and, like, straight towards the band. I said, this is it now. We’re in big trouble here. The same ones who were stoning the embassy, and they grabbed Dizzy. We had no idea what was on their mind. And they put him on their shoulders, and they were walking around saying, Dizzy, Dizzy, Dizzy. I was so relieved, you know, ’cause it was terrifying to watch them come towards the band, especially with the reputation they had in the papers the day before. And so we went down to – getting back to Latin America, we went down to Argentina first and Buenos Aires.

And after our first concert, we met a beautiful young musician named Lalo Schifrin, who was a teenager then, too. And he had told me all about he’d studied with Olivier Messiaen, and that’s where I first heard the name Nadia Boulanger, and it just sent electricity through me. He also told – we also recorded down there with Astor Piazzolla, who was, like, a very experimental composer working on what they call a modern city tango.

And then he warned us about the new movement that was coming out of Brazil, and we were very excited about hearing this new music. It was bossa nova. And when we got to Brazil, Dizzy played with the rhythm section, samba rhythm section at the Gloria Hotel one afternoon, and sitting in the front row were three teenagers, a married couple, Astrud and Joao Gilberto, and Antonio Carlos Jobim, who started a whole bossa nova movement.

And, ironically, the first record that came out in the United States was “Desafinado.” And the melody and the first, just the opening strain was just almost pure Dizzy Gillespie. That’s why they referred to it at that time as jazz and samba, before they even called it bossa nova. And so we came home all excited about this new music. They had moved the clave beat, which is really, like, the foundation of Latin music straight up and down Latin America. That’s the foundation. The clave beat is the guiding force.

And I wanted to record some of this stuff, and so I made a thing called “Big Band Bossa Nova,” and I wrote, in about 20 minutes – this was 1962 – a tune called “Soul Bossa Nova.” And we had Brazilian rhythm section and everything else. And I guess 38 years passed, and so now Austin Powers is this huge star, and he’s stuck with this theme. This is his theme forever. (Vocalizing). And it’s amazing ’cause they did two movies with the theme, and he opened it with a marching band playing on the first time. Now he wants me to be in the next film.

GROSS: So, were you flattered when you found out that Mike Myers wanted to use your “Soul Bossa Nova” as the theme for “Austin Powers”? Or did you think, oh, now it’s going to be camp – now it’s going to be seen as camp?

JONES: Well, no, it was camp, but, you know, it doesn’t matter, though, because, you know, it’s – a tune like that was kind of a campy tune anyway. So I loved it, you know? I was very happy that he found a whole new home for this, you know, in this generation.

GROSS: Well, let’s hear your 1962 recording of “Soul Bossa Nova,” which later became the theme for “Austin Powers.”

JONES: Shagadelic (ph). Behave.

(LAUGHTER)

JONES: He is so funny.

(SOUNDBITE OF QUINCY JONES’ “SOUL BOSSA NOVA”)

GROSS: That’s Quincy Jones’ 1962 recording of his composition, “Soul Bossa Nova,” also known now as the theme for “Austin Powers.” Other music you were doing in the 1960s – you also had a pop music career. One of your biggest successes was Lesley Gore. You produced her first big hit, “It’s My Party,” and produced other records of hers as well. Tell us how you discovered Lesley Gore.

JONES: Well, I got kind of – it was a sort of a challenge, really, because I was – I had come back from Europe, and I had lost a lot of money, and I had to take – Irving Green, the president of Mercury, said, come over here as an A&R man because you are an artist on Mercury anyway, an artist who developed repertoire. He hired me, and then he promoted me to vice president. And during that time, I was recording all the divas and, you know, Nina Simone and Sarah Vaughan and Shirley Horn, Dinah Washington. And we were doing things with Robert Farnon – big strings, expensive dates and so forth. And they were beautiful musical albums.

But Irving said to me one time – he says, you know, all the pop guys I send you and Hal Mooney, who were the arrangers, are budget busters because you do all this big music, but we need some more help with the bottom line with hit records. And I was a little presumptuous and said, well, I don’t think it’s such a big deal to make a pop hit. He says, well, why don’t you start making some then?

And we were at a meeting at the Oxford House, where we had our A&R meetings regularly in Chicago. And he said, here’s a tape that Joe Glazer sent me, and his friend, a fight manager or somebody, has a niece that sang something. Just say you listened to it, and we’ll send it back, you know? I grabbed it, and I said, I’d like to try this because she had a great sound as of a rock singer in those days. She could sing really in tune. She was 16 years old. And we went back to New York and talked to Joe Glazer, and he said, make her a star and, you know, all of that Hollywood stuff.

And we went in on a Saturday, and we recorded two songs – “It’s My Party” and with a B-side written by Paul Anka, young Paul Anka, called “Danny.” And on the way to Carnegie Hall, I saw Phil Spector. Phil Spector said, I just cut a smash, man, with The Crystals called “It’s My Party.” I said, what? I had never experienced that kind of competition before. I went back to the studio with the engineer, and we mastered 100 acetates to send out to the radio. And the rest – you know, and I had to go to Japan right after that. And I told Lesley, we’ve got the great record and everything. All we need to do is fix that name because I don’t think this name’s going to work with a pop record, you know, so…

GROSS: You didn’t like the name Gore.

JONES: No, I didn’t like it.

GROSS: I won’t tell Al Gore about that.

JONES: (Laughter) And Tipper. And so I went to Japan to do a television show, and we’re doing a little acting and scoring it. And so I got a call from Irving Green later, and he said, did anybody call you yet? I said, no. I said, did she get that name together yet? Did she come up with any suggestions? And he said, the record’s number one. Do you really care? I said no. It sounds just fine. It’s amazing. That was a big lesson.

GROSS: Whatever happened to The Crystals’ recording of “It’s My Party” that Phil Spector was producing?

JONES: I don’t think it came out. I don’t think it came out. Lesley’s thing was – had such impact. I don’t know. I may be wrong, but I don’t think it came out.

GROSS: Well, I thought I’d play “You Don’t Own Me.” That’s the Lesley Gore track that’s featured on your four-CD box set. I also think it’s just a particularly good recording and also a kind of proto-feminist anthem.

JONES: And a long time ago, too.

GROSS: Yeah, yeah, yeah. With a lot of strings – you know, you were talking about how you were using strings with jazz singers you were working with. I know this is Claus Ogerman’s arrangement and not…

JONES: Exactly.

GROSS: …Not yours, but still, it’s…

JONES: He’s wonderful.

GROSS: …You know, a very string-oriented arrangement.

JONES: He’s an amazing musician.

GROSS: OK, well, this is “You Don’t Own Me,” produced by my guest, Quincy Jones, sung by Lesley Gore.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “YOU DON’T OWN ME”)

LESLEY GORE: (Singing) You don’t own me. I’m not just one of your many toys. You don’t own me. Don’t say I can’t go with other boys. And don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me what to say. And, please, when I go out with you, don’t put me on display ’cause you don’t own me. Don’t try to change me in any way. You don’t own me. Don’t tie me down ’cause I’d never stay. I don’t tell you what to say. I don’t tell you what to do. So just let me be myself. That’s all I ask of you. I’m young, and I love to be young. I’m free, and I love to be free to live my life the way I want, to say and do whatever I please.

GROSS: That’s Lesley Gore, a recording produced by Quincy Jones in 1963. We’re remembering Quincy Jones on today’s show. He died Sunday at the age of 91. We’ll hear more of my 2001 interview with him after a short break. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. We’re remembering Quincy Jones. He died Sunday. Let’s get back to the interview we recorded in 2001.

Let’s talk about your childhood. Your early years were spent on the South Side of Chicago. Your father was a carpenter, and you say that he worked for the guys who ran the rackets in the South Side. How did he end up being their carpenter?

JONES: Well, you know, that was the Chicago during the Depression in the ghetto. Nobody asked any questions. You know, and Chicago also was the spawning ground of every – probably the headquarters reporting (ph) ground of every gangster in America, Black or white – Roger Touhy, Dillinger, Capone, everybody. So the Jones boys were just – they were the first – one of the first Black gangsters. They started a policy racket. And they also had a five-and-dime store chain, the Jones Five and Dime, which they used to call the Vs and Xs. So something to make a trip over to the Vs and Xs today.

GROSS: So these were the Jones boys your father worked for. This isn’t the Quincy Jones family you’re talking about.

JONES: No, no, no, no, no.

GROSS: Right.

JONES: They were the gangsters in the – back in the day.

GROSS: Your mother was a Christian scientist. Did she bring you up in your early years as a Christian scientist?

JONES: I think so. If I can remember, she went to Boston University probably in the ’20s, which was very unusual, you know, for an African American female in those days. And she – very smart lady. She spoke and wrote, like, 12 languages, including Hebrew, everything. And she could type a hundred words a minute. And so she was, like, kind of the administrator, superintendent of one of the places we lived in, like the Rosenwald, before we got into a house.

GROSS: Your mother was later diagnosed as schizophrenic, and she was institutionalized for a while. What were some of her problems at home before she was actually diagnosed, problems that you found disturbing?

JONES: Well, it’s dementia praecox, which is schizophrenia. She was obsessed with religion. She would stare out of the window, and she would sing spirituals. She’d play spirituals and was just erratic at times. And I remember when I was about 5 years old, she – my birthday party – she threw my coconut cake out off the back porch. And it was really a big deal to me then. I don’t know why I remember that so much, but it was really something that I couldn’t understand because the cake was supposed to be, like, the symbol or the metaphor for the joy of the birthday party. And she threw it out, and it just really shocked me. And it was a very traumatic moment, and I know it sounds like it’s nothing.

GROSS: No, it doesn’t sound like it’s nothing.

JONES: At 5 years old, it freaked me out. And I realized my brother – and I both realized something was wrong. I mean, every day we realized something was wrong because it was just – it just wasn’t like other people’s parents. Even the bad parents – it wasn’t the same as that. It was…

GROSS: Right.

JONES: Because she was very smart. And so finally, she was committed, and I didn’t know or kind of blanked out what the process was until I went back there, like, 50 years later, when I did “Listen Up.” All of it came back. And I guess that’s the part of the book that was cathartic. There were missing pieces in my memory, and it got clarified.

GROSS: After she was committed, she escaped from the hospital three times. And then when she was released from the hospital, you say she followed you around from town to town for the rest of your life and sometimes showing up at the oddest times. Apparently, I guess you needed more distance from her than she wanted.

JONES: Oh, absolutely. Well, we had a very hard time communicating. We couldn’t have a conversation without it being – turning into a big argument. And I didn’t know – I guess Lloyd and I both were so hungry for…

GROSS: Lloyd’s your brother. Lloyd’s your brother.

JONES: Lloyd is my brother, yeah, my younger brother. We were so hungry for the mother stuff and just to be patted on the back or head or something that we just never could communicate. We didn’t know how to connect to her, you know? At that time, I guess you need validation and guidance and love and nurturing and those words that weren’t around in the ghetto during the impression. Nurturing never came up very often.

GROSS: Right.

JONES: It’s like cholesterol.

(LAUGHTER)

JONES: Please. Cholesterol sounds like something to drink, you know?

(LAUGHTER)

GROSS: Well, one of the strangest places your mother showed up – one of the most surprising times was at Birdland when you were performing. Tell us what happened.

JONES: Oh, my God. I couldn’t believe it. That was the first time I ever played Birdland with my own band. I was really proud because I’d seen all my idols there – Charlie Parker and Dizzy, Duke, Basie, everybody. And lo and behold, here come – I see her at – you know, it’s a huge entrance stair that comes downstairs. And the regular host there was named Pee Wee Marquette, who was really a character. He had four watches on and about three coats of powder on his face and a couple of jackets on and a vest and everything else – a real character with a lot of attitude.

And you’d see, like, parting of the crowd, you know, as he’s walking through ’cause he was so short. And he’d walk through. And she said, no. Come on lady. You know, you can’t come in. She said, shut up. You know, if you didn’t drink so much, you wouldn’t be so short. And she had a tongue like a laser beam. She turned the place out for about an hour. You knew she was down there. And she took nothing from anybody.

GROSS: You know, I was reading the obituary for your mother. She died in 1999 at the age of 94. And one of the things that mentioned about her was that she was a master typist and that she once typed the New Testament as a gift to her children.

JONES: Yes, she did.

GROSS: Do you remember getting that as a gift?

JONES: Absolutely. And I said to her – I said, this is – I’m very touched, you know? But, you know, you can buy this for, like, $3 or $4 or something like that. And she – you know, but she meant it as something that she was really trying to give. And more and more, Lloyd and I started to realize, you know, that the things that she did – she couldn’t help it. And in the final analysis, she probably went through more hell than anybody – all of us combined because, having kids, I know how that must have felt regardless of how difficult she made it for herself and for us. We didn’t know how to be children. She didn’t know how to be a mother. And it was very painful.

GROSS: We’re listening to my 2001 interview with Quincy Jones. We’ll hear more of it after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

(SOUNDBITE OF QUINCY JONES SONG, “SUMMER IN THE CITY”)

GROSS: This is FRESH AIR. We were remembering composer, arranger and producer Quincy Jones. He died Sunday at the age of 91. Here’s the final part of my interview with him, which we recorded in 2001.

I want to get back to your music and to get to the most colossal success that you had, and that was the album “Thriller” with Michael Jackson. You first met him in 1972 at Sammy Davis’ house. You worked together on “The Wiz.” What was his or yours or, you know, the both of yours original concept for “Thriller”?

JONES: Well, it starts before that. It starts during the movie, you know, of when we first met after – initially at 12 years old. It was – he was about 19, so about ’77 or so. And he came over to the house. And that’s the first time we really met on a professional basis. And he was growing up then. And he said, pleased to meet you, etc. and was very sweet. And he said, I’m doing a – I have a new contract with Epic Records. And The Jackson 5, I’m still working with them. But I’m going to do a solo album, and I was wondering if you could help me find a producer. I said, great, Michael, but right now, we’ve got a mammoth job here to prerecord all the songs with you and Nipsy Russell, Richard Pryor, Lena Horne and Diana Ross and everybody else – to prerecord the songs before you make the film.

That’s just the nature of what films are about. You prerecord the voice, everything, and you have to really guess right about the dramatic context of how a song starts and stops, how long it is because it’s all going to be filmed. And that’s what the film’s going to be. It’s a slave to that track. So you really have to concentrate. And so I said, if you be patient and just wait until we get through this, maybe we can talk about the producer.

So we finished the prerecords. We start getting ready, preparing for the film. Sidney Lumet is at the St. George Hotel in Brooklyn one day, and he’s blocking out a scene with the four principals. And Michael’s the scarecrow. And he had pulled – out of his straw chest, he’d pull out little quotes from – dah, dah, dah, dah, dah (ph), Confucius; dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, Aristotle; dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, Socrates. And he kept saying, Socrates. And about the third day, I just took him aside and said, Michael, the word is Socrates. And he said, really? And he was really surprised, you know, ’cause he’s been a star since he was 5, you know, so he’s been on the road since then. So he’s like an old man in one sense. He’s like a baby in another sense.

And there was something about the look in his eye – and I’d been watching him – the discipline he had. He’d get up at 5 in the morning for his makeup tests and everything else – very, very conscientious and disciplined young person, I mean, one of the most I’ve ever seen. He knew everybody’s lines, everybody’s song, everybody’s lyrics, everybody’s dance steps, everybody’s movement, everything. And the most amazing, absorbing and involved person I’ve ever – artist I’ve ever seen before.

And I love the records they made on Motown, you know, the bubblegum things, you know, dance machine and those things. But after seeing this other side of him, I felt that there was much more inside of Michael that hadn’t been touched because you look at Michael at first. You’d say, there’s nothing else to do with him. He’s done everything, and he did it at 9. You know, he’s singing a love song to a rap, you know, then and everything. And he was fearless and sincere about it. He had a very strong sense of maturity.

GROSS: What was your approach to producing “Thriller”? What did you think of as your major contributions to the sound of that record?

JONES: Of course, “Thriller” was a combination of all my experience as an orchestrator and picking the songs and Michael’s – all the talents he has – as a dancer, as a singer, as an amazing entertainer. It was like us throwing everything we – accumulated experience, putting it all together.

GROSS: Well, let’s hear “Billie Jean.” I really regret we’re out of time. I wish we could talk some more. I want to thank you so much for talking with us.

JONES: It’s a pleasure, Terry.

GROSS: My interview with Quincy Jones was recorded in 2001. He died Sunday at the age of 91.

(SOUNDBITE OF MICHAEL JACKSON SONG, “BILLIE JEAN”)

GROSS: Tomorrow on FRESH AIR, our guest will be Oscar nominee Saoirse Ronan. She has two new films in theaters – “The Outrun,” about a young alcoholic trying to get sober, and “Blitz,” about a mother in London during the World War II German bombardment trying to find her lost son. Her other films include “Little Women,” “Lady Bird,” “Brooklyn” and “Atonement.” I hope you’ll join us. FRESH AIR’s executive producer is Danny Miller. Roberta Shorrock directs the show. Our cohost is Tonya Mosley. I’m Terry Gross.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, “BILLIE JEAN”)

JACKSON: (Singing) She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene. I said, don’t mind, but what do you mean, I am the one who will dance on the floor in the round? She said I am the one who will dance on the floor in the round. She told me her name was Billie Jean, as she caused a scene. Then every head turned with eyes that dreamed of bein’ the one who will dance on the floor in the round. People always told me, be careful of what you do, don’t go around breaking young girls’ hearts. Hee-hee. And mother always told me, be careful who you love, and be careful of what you do ’cause the lie becomes the truth. Hey. Billie Jean is not my lover. She’s just a girl who claims that I am the one. Oh, baby. But the kid is not my son.

Copyright © 2024 NPR. All rights reserved. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at www.npr.org for further information.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.