Les McCann and Erin…

I got out (of US Navy) in '56, went to music school and LA City College and started working around town and everything just flowed. It took me time to play ballrooms and I must've worked every coffeehouse in Southern California, and people began to fill up the place and word spread. I thank God every day for that.
Les McCann
In jazz, it's not one thing. You know it when you hear it. It's about the heart and the feeling. When you hear something great, or you have a producer or partner that you trust, you listen to them.
Les McCann

***Les McCann Ltd. Plays The Truth (1960) signed by Les***

You don't have to be anything. You just live, enjoy your life, and all these things will come to you. It's when we start thinking in our head, trying to figure it out, trying to make it what we want it to be, we stumble. We go down side roads, we don't mess it up, we just put it on hold... There's no difference between jazz and photography, or any art form. It's all about creativity.
The zen of Les McCann
I’m a people person. I was born to be a people person, and I thank God because I am able to do what I really love doing. When I go to the market, I'm talking to everybody in the store. The light I see in my eyes is the same light I get from other people who I know are happy in their life, or if I need to give someone a song, I'll do that too. That's just what I am... You know, the Beastie Boys call me out on one of their records: "And I talk to the people like Les McCann..." ("Alright Hear This" Ill Communication 1994)
Les McCann

***Swiss Movement (1969) signed by Les, Eddie Harris***

A wonderful jazz pianist, composer and (occasional) singer, Les McCann helped to blur genres, combining blues, gospel, jazz and soul in an intoxicating blend in his sixty-plus years career. He is probably best known for his recording of Gene McDaniels' "Compared To What", an impromptu jam session and last second addition to the third Montreux Jazz Festival in 1969 with his Atlantic Records label mate, Eddie Harris. Though they knew each other, they were an unlikely and odd couple: Eddie was meticulous and planned everything in advance, Les not so much. He was as freewheeling and open to possibilities as Eddie was disciplined and structured.

Les remembered the performance, "Sometimes, like when we made Swiss Movement, I was so angry after we finished playing. I went right back to the hotel and told the man. 'Don't take no calls from anybody, I don't care who it comes from.' And they were trying to call me from the moment I left the building, 'Get your butt back over there. You're not going to believe how great this is.' I thought it was the worst thing we ever did, because we were making a lot of mistakes. When I heard it, I couldn't believe it, which taught me another great lesson. Let it happen, let it be. You don't have to be hovering over every little note. You do it, and let it happen, and you'll know it. My heart and my body is loaded with creativity, and when I step on that stage, I acknowledge it and allow it to come forth. I love my life."

***Second Movement (1971) signed by Les, Eddie Harris***

Les wasn't the only one who loved his life or his music, the celebratory throng that night in Montreux, Switzerland was only a beginning. Swiss Movement went on to sell more than one million copies and became one of the finest examples of Soul Jazz when it was released in 1969. It also helped cement the reputation of Montreux which was then a fledgling and unproven jazz festival, not the international showcase that it is now more than fifty years later.

Even more remarkable about this performance and recording, Les, Eddie and the band had only rehearsed for ten minutes before they 'let it happen.’ "Compared To What,” the hit single which propelled the record sales, had been around for several years and was written by Eugene McDaniels in 1966. First recorded by Les as a ballad on Les Plays The Hits, the lyrics were quite controversial at the time, and even included (gasp!) a swear (“goddamnit”). Early copies of the record bleeped out the blasphemy and WFMU, a Washington, DC radio station, was actually fined $10,000 for playing the song years earlier because the lyric contained the word "abortion."

The President, he's got his war
Folks don't know just what it's for
Nobody gives us rhyme or reason
Have one doubt, they call it treason
We're chicken-feathers, all without one nut. God damn it!
Tryin' to make it real, compared to what? (Sock it to me)
Church on Sunday, sleep and nod
Tryin' to duck the wrath of God
Preacher's fillin' us with fright
They all tryin' to teach us what they think is right
They really got to be some kind of nut (I can't use it!)
Tryin' to make it real, compared to what?
Where's that bee and where's that honey?
Where's my God and where's my money?
Unreal values, crass distortion
Unwed mothers need abortion
Kind of brings to mind ol' young King Tut (He did it now)
Tried to make it real, compared to what?!

***Second Movement (1971) back cover signed by Les***

At Montreux, the song was transformed into a rollicking soul burner, and it has since become a cultural touchstone with recordings by Brian Auger, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Ray Charles, Roberta Flack, and John Legend among hundreds of others. And it is embedded in cinema as well: Roberta Flack's version appears in Boogie Nights while Les and Eddie perform uncensored in Scorcese's Casino as tastes have expanded and FCC mores have loosened in the ensuing decades. Indeed, George Carlin’s “Seven Words You Can’t Say On Television” is probably down to three on broadcast TV and none on cable, in comedy clubs or movies, and the influence of Les in hip hop artists is equally broad and startling. More than two hundred-fifty artists have sampled Les' songs and beats including, A Tribe Called Quest, Biggie Smalls, Dr Dre, Nas, Puff Daddy, and Snoop Dogg to name a few.

Erin and I were fortunate to see Les perform in 1988 at Blues Alley in Washington DC, an intimate jazz club with seats for one hundred-twenty five patrons. Though he had health issues, Les’ spirit was indomitable and his music was joyous and life affirming. After the show, we found him sitting at the bar, having an adult beverage. Les was particularly effusive in greeting Erin as she handed him an album, "Oh my, aren't you beautiful! Please come over here and give me a big hug," he gushed. Before he inscribed the records, a tight, full frontal embrace ensued. When he released Erin, he had a follow up, "Are they real?" "Yes, they most assuredly are," Erin responded, unfortunately accustomed to boorish behavior. When he suggested that she should sit on his lap, that was a bridge too far and his invitation was soundly rejected by Erin. I interceded, had Les sign a couple more albums and we departed. Though his behavior was certainly inappropriate through a #metoo prism or any perspective, in the late 1980s, sadly, it seemed an all too familiar refrain and was merely dismissed as a “rascal being rascally.” At that time, for me, it was always about the music and, despite his behavioral shortcomings, Les' music and artistry deeply resonated.

As Les once said, "That's the way it is for all of us. We often forget that we're just here for a few moments. This ain't the real shit. This is like taking a little nap."