The Michael Shrieve Interview

A Place Beyond Time Elvin John loomed large in my lifescape. After a while of getting into drums, I graduated to a place of Elvin and Tony Williams and Jack DeJohnette and all the greats. Papa Joe and Roy Haynes. In my interests I graduated: I’m not saying I can play like them. I began to listen to them more. Elvin was probably the most monumental. Tony was unbelievable and he was so young. Jack, I always related to, even before Elvin, and then somebody turned me on to Elvin and that was a whole other thing. I could immerse myself in all of that and feel all of that. It was more difficult to play or try to cop a feel. I wanted to be a jazz drummer when I was younger, which is why these guys were in my world. I saw Coltrane with Elvin at Stanford University. I came into their dressing room through the ceiling. They were all like, “What is this boy doing?” They were very kind to me and invited me to their show later that night at The Jazz Workshop in SF. I showed up but couldn’t get in, because I wasn’t old enough.My dad had a great night hanging with the guys, and I stood outside looking through the window like a dog. Elvin and I met that first time, and after that we became lifelong friends. I saw him play many many times. He was always monumental. Even getting to know him as a close family friend was always monumental to me. It was never so casual that I wouldn’t have immense respect for him. He was a force of nature. Elvin was playing with Coltrane at the peak of his refinement, his search, his seeking. They were doing it together. Coltrane inspired Elvin to new heights and vice versa.: Elvin inspired Coltrane to new heights, which is why Coltrane wanted and needed him in the band so much. He knew what he wanted: someone who was going to kick his ass, and nobody could do it like Elvin. Nobody could just keep going and going and going. People can transcribe that stuff, and they do, but that’s very complicated playing. What it became to me was an energy flow. It’s like a river flowing, and I still try to think of that, whatever style that I’m playing in now. I still try to think of that river flowing. I want to provide that place that can take people somewhere. Which means you have to go there. You can’t expect tthe audience to go there if you’re not there transmitting that, coming from that place. You say “Transmissions for the 21st Century,” but this is transmissions for all time. It’s a place beyond time. I don’t mean to get to cosmic here, but that’s what I picked up from those guys. I said they were going to this place like a shaman. You can’t give that to other people, much less the musicians that you’re playing with, if you don’t go there. Don’t Take That for Granted I used to take drum lessons at Mickey Hart’s father’s drum shop from a guy named Mike DeLuca. Peter Magadini was one of my early teachers, too: he was amazing. And Michael Carvin was one of my teachers and also Anthony Cerrone. I had some really great teachers, who really helped me move to my goals faster. And once I was able to get around, I was always going to hear live music. I played in the big band at San Mateo Junior College. Then I dropped everything else in school except for big band. I’d get up every day at 8:00 and start practicing right after my parents left for work. I would practice till 2:30, then go to big band every day. At night hopefully I would find a place to play like The Poppycock or the Nairobi Lounge in East Palo Alto. I practiced hard. I even made the hours like the regular workday of a normal person’s job. They were going to work, and I was going to work. I wasn’t really into the Latin scene, and I was too young to go to the clubs in San Francisco. Greg Errico: he was a real city boy. He and Carabello and Carlos Santana: they grew up in the city. I grew up in the suburbs, which was a whole different scene. Michael Carabello was friends with Greg Errico, and one night Michael drove me down to Greg’s newly purchased house in Burlingame. It was an amazing house that had a picture window, a huge living room, and the drums set up right in front of the big window. Other than that, the place was empty: no couches or anything except a monster stereo system. I set my drums up for years in my parents’ living room, but I’d take them down every day. Here was Greg, he was 19, and he’d got this house in the hills and drums in the living room. I thought, “This could be good....” It’s not like you took these people for granted just because you were the same age and in the same kind of scene. I never took someone like Greg for granted. To me they always stand as monumental figures. When you’re a musician, you’re a fan of music and a fan of musicians, so that never really goes away. You don’t take that for granted.