Aurore Sibley
I Don't Worry About a Thing
Updated: Apr 16
Musings on Mose
I’ve been thinking about Mose Alison recently, and that time that I was so lucky to meet and speak with him. Mose is an icon in the world of music, loved and admired by folk, rock, and jazz musicians alike. He is purported to be one of Tom Wait’s greatest influences, (by his own admission), and played with many of the jazz greats back in the day. In fact, he was a jazz great himself, both as a pianist and vocalist. A composer and musician with a voice and sound so unique and individual that it is unmistakable when you hear him play or sing.
At the time of the concert, I was in college and studying jazz with bassist Herbie Lewis, former jazz great and then director of the modest New College Jazz Ensemble in San Francisco. Herbie and I had become close friends and he referred to me as his adopted daughter. My own father, who was somewhat lost to mental illness in those days came alive when we visited with Herbie. He positively beamed in his presence, and was thrilled with my scholastic choices, despite the dubious prospect of making a living as a musician.
Both Herbie and my father were big talkers. They were each full of stories, brimming with things to share, overflowing with opinions and commentary. I listened. I had grown up listening to my father’s charismatic stories, and now I listened as Herbie shared his. My father had shared countless musical artists and albums with me while growing up, many of which none of my contemporaries were familiar with when I went off to college. And Herbie taught me about the conversation that happens in a small jazz ensemble, the importance and necessity of listening to each other, and speaking, (with your instrument), where it complements the conversation. How the silence in between is as important as the sound.
Herbie was a character to be sure, and class often consisted of a spontaneous bus trip to the San Francisco Wharf to catch some live music or buy some food while he would regale us with stories of Thelonious Monk and Frank Sinatra, both of whom had been his friends and colleagues, or reminiscences of Scott LaFaro, Bill Evan’s bass player and Herbie’s onetime mentor and hero.
Herbie had asked me at one point who my favorite pianists were, and laughed out loud when I told him that it came down to Red Garland and Mose Alison. He’d played and toured with Mose, had been his bass player once upon a time, just as he had McCoy Tyner’s and Bobby Hutcherson’s. And as he gave me a sidelong glance, he told me that I reminded him of Mose, and I couldn’t think of a greater compliment in the world.
