Yesterday, I played through “Alter Ego”, pianist James Williams’ most well-known composition. Save for two bars, every chord in “Alter Ego” is a minor 11 chord.
Ambiguous and dark, the minor 11 chord is a common sound, one you’ve heard all your life. “Alter Ego”, which literally means ‘other self’, is the perfect name for a heartfelt piece of music built on a blurred, not-all-there sound.
For the last writing of 2023, I’ll give a wave to James Williams. The tonality of his song might be hard to sense, but his influence, at least on me, is not.
Pianist James Williams was born in Memphis, TN in 1951. In 1977, he left a teaching post at Berklee to join Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, where he helped bring about the “Messengers Revival” of the late Seventies. He remained with the group through 1981, playing on some of their best-remembered albums from that era, including Album of the Year with a young Wynton Marsalis.
Upon leaving Blakey, Williams was active as a sideman, touring with Art Farmer, Dizzy Gillespie, and many others, while appearing on dozens of records, including Tom Harrell’s classic Sail Away. Williams also led his own group, sometimes called Progress Report, a sextet focussed on his own compositions and featuring long-time associates Bill Pierce and Kevin Eubanks.
Williams was a constant presence in the NYC clubs as a player and listener. His favorite haunt was Bradley’s, the legendary piano room, where he often played and spent hours listening to elder masters Hank Jones and Tommy Flanagan.
His sunny demeanor and profound commitment to the music naturally led to a teaching career. In the fall of 1999, he was hired as Artistic Director of the jazz program at Willam Paterson University. While there, he was unfailingly generous with the students, a well-dressed, perfectly-spoken Southern gentleman with a penchant for puns and a kind word for all.
He remained active as a player, once leaving for a few weeks to tour in a trio with Christian McBride and Jeff “Tain” Watts, and performing with James Williams Intensive Care Unit, his gospel jazz group, whenever possible. His final recording project was a series of duets with his peers and heroes, which he released himself just before his death nearly twenty years ago in July 2004, at the age of 53.
James Williams was one of many musicians who was never a household name, but without whom jazz as we know it simply wouldn’t exist.
I knew him as a student, and he helped me see myself as a professional; the first time I ever traveled to play jazz was a tour of Japan with James, trumpeter/composer Bill Mobley, and Memphis bassist Sylvester Sample (“Alter Ego” was on the set list).
He showed me and the many young musicians he mentored what the music was really all about: individuality, community, and the present moment, always connected to the past and the future.
James Williams was a positive artist, by which I don’t mean optimistic or friendly, though he certainly was those things. By positive, I mean a musician who trusted, wholeheartedly, in the value of his music, his community, his audience, and his heritage. He was always working towards a better future.
Jazz was the air he breathed, the water he drank, the ground he walked on. All were welcome.
2024 is a few minutes away, and I’m carrying it on. I’ve got everything I need.
Shoutouts and thanks to friends and colleagues who knew and loved James Williams: Carl Allen, Johnathan Blake, Michael Formanek, Matthew Fries, Bill Goodwin, Javon Jackson, Geoff Keezer, Steve Nelson, Bill Pierce, Greg Ryan, Bobby Watson, and Steve Wilson.
Respect and gratitude for James Williams, much missed and fondly remembered.
But this is a night for celebration, so have some James Williams music as you get ready for your New Year’s Eve. Here’s a playlist and individual links:
Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers, “The Soulful Mr. Timmons” (James Williams) from Album Of The Year (Timeless, 1981). Williams’ intro tells the whole story, and the groove he, Blakey, and bassist Charles Fambrough get into is undeniable.
Tom Harrell, “Eons” (Tom Harrell) from Sail Away (Contemporary, 1989). The front line of Harrell and Joe Lovano is legendary and unbeatable, but James, bassist Ray Drummond, and drummer Adam Nussbaum, who sounds incredible, find a way to get some good friction going in the back half of Williams’ solo.
James Williams, “Do Nothin’ Til You Hear From Me” (Ellington) from Meet The Magical Trio (EmArcy, 1989). James and Tain had some great chemistry. Has there ever been such a heavy swinging version of the Ellington standard?
Kevin Eubanks, “Speak Low” (Kurt Weill-Ogden Nash) from Live At Bradley’s (Blue Note, 1996). This is James in his natural habitat with his close compatriots Eubanks and bassist Robert Hurst. That long, quote-heavy solo is James at his most relaxed and confident.
James Williams, “Alter Ego”, from Alter Ego (Sunnyside, 1985). Here’s Williams’ signature song, in its initial recording. I pay special attention to drummer Tony Reedus on this track— James was his uncle on his mother’s side; maybe it was the familial connection that let Reedus make room in the beat for James’ ideas to come sailing through.
Thank you all for an incredible 2023. Happy New Year, and here’s hoping for the best in 2024.
There's a comment of Philip Larkin's about, I think, Joe Henderson (though not sure the sentiment fits the great Mr H) along the lines of them being a player of no great originality without whom jazz would be immeasurably poorer.
I've not listened to a huge amount of James Williams' recordings but maybe something similar could be said about him? Anyway, this excellent article has prompted me to dig a bit deeper...I'll start by relistening to a fine duo album he cut with the great Bobby Watson (and which features Alter Ego in the set list).
Thank you for remembering Mr James Williams. Such a beautiful, soulful musician. His playing with the Art Farmer Quintet’s Blame It On My Youth on Contemporary was sublime. Check his solo on Fairy Tale Countryside. James Williams moved me so much.