Before he turned 30, drummer Brian Blade had already built up an impressive résumé: He'd worked as the drummer of choice for Daniel Lanois, Emmylou Harris, Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and Seal, as well as jazz players such as Wayne Shorter, Bill Frisell, and Joshua Redman. In his scant spare time, he developed the Brian Blade Fellowship project, a fascinating mixture of jazz, blues, folk, and country that released Perceptual, one of the most distinctive and impressive albums of the past year. The soft-spoken Blade was extremely generous with his praise in a recent interview with The Onion A.V. Club.
The Onion: You recently recorded with [former Miles Davis saxophonist] Wayne Shorter.
Brian Blade: Yeah. For me, man, it just kind of keeps coming up roses, privileges, honors. Just being around these people you have such great respect for… They paved the way for you. Like Wayne: He's so heavy, you know? Brilliant.
O: It's also pretty appropriate, since there's so much of Tony Williams' [drummer for Miles Davis' legendary second quintet] playing in your work.
BB: It's such an influence that it's almost scary at times, when I realize that it's him playing the horn in front of me. It's kind of daunting, but I just try to surrender to the moment. He's so brilliant.
O: Tony Williams was playing with Shorter and Davis when he was about 10 years younger than you are now.
BB: Yeah, I guess so. I try not to think about it so much, just because… well, it's hard not to think about it. I often do, actually. The whole idea of what hasn't really been said. Like John Lennon said [laughs and sings], "Nothing you do that can't be done."
O: The Brian Blade Fellowship is saying and doing a lot of things that haven't been done.
BB: Well, I appreciate that. It came together over a period of almost a decade, actually. When [pianist] Jon Cowherd and I met in New Orleans—[bassist] Christopher Thomas was also there at that time—we always talked about having a group someday. It just took this long to come to pass, but all the musicians in the band kind of came into my life, and here we are, trying to do it together.
O: What kind of music did you listen to growing up?
BB: Well, I grew up in church, so gospel music, I guess, was kind of the first music I heard. Choral music, sacred music. I have a pretty clear memory of hearing Al Green when I was at my grandmother's. It was kind of the first musical experience that sticks in my memory. But there was a lot along the way that I thought was great—Earth, Wind & Fire, Stevie Wonder, all these things. Later, I got into Miles Davis and John Coltrane and Joni Mitchell, and all these recordings just made me want to buy more recordings. And New Orleans, when I moved there to go to college, was kind of emerging into such a rich musical community, just on the street there, that everything started to multiply in a good way. Even if you're not a music student, per se—just being in the city, it all passes through you.
O: So you were really familiar with Joni Mitchell before she called you up?
BB: Yeah, she's my greatest musical influence. I felt like I owed her this debt, she had given me so much. All of a sudden, I felt that I was just getting more blessings. I just hope I can serve the situation properly.
O: I was surprised to see you playing with Seal alongside Tony Levin and David Sancious.
BB: Yeah, it's absolutely brilliant, man, all those people. I guess my head should be getting pretty big. Hopefully, these recordings will stand up beyond one-night stands. Hopefully, they'll be important to people, as they are to me, and touch folks.
O: Well, Bob Dylan's Time Out Of Mind and Emmylou Harris' Wrecking Ball both mean a lot to many people. How difficult is it to get past their iconic status?
BB: Of course that's on your mind, that these are some of the most amazing voices of any time, some of the greatest songwriters of any time. You're standing before these people, and obviously your knees wobble a bit. [Laughs.] But it's also rewarding when you have such reverence for someone and you meet them, and they're even greater than you thought. They let you in on it, and then they're not puffed up, you know? It kind of takes away my nervousness and hesitation. I just feel that I'm here and they want me to try to do what I do. I just try and do it, man.
O: You're a composer yourself, and your own playing is pretty musical. When you're working with someone of that caliber, how much creative freedom do you have?
BB: It's been absolutely carte blanche. If there's ever a suggestion made, it's never restrictive. It's more conceptual. But most times, with Joni or with Wayne, it's always this dance, you know what I mean? You figure that the other person knows their steps, so you don't step on each other's toes. Just have a good time.
O: Who do you hope to play with that you haven't yet?
BB: Neil Young. Gee whiz. I'd love to play with a symphony, you know, the New York Philharmonic or something. [Laughs.] It sounds strange, but I want to try to start writing in this way, as if the band wasn't big enough already. It's so unseen, in a way, because there are so many artists that maybe people don't know about—Dave Berkman or Sam Yahel—that I play with so often in New York. I want to continue these things so they grow over time. When you can make a session but then never see these people again, I'm not too fond of doing that. I'm more in it for the long run. It's been a real privilege to be able to do these things and still play with the band and tour with friends. It's sometimes a fragile balance, because there's not much time between these things, but that's fine because it's what I want to do. There'll be time to sleep later.