Sam Newsome

soprano saxophonist, composer (interview conducted via e-mail)

Virginia

Hampton, Virginia, was where I got serious about music. My family moved there when I was 11 years old from Salisbury, MD. In Salisbury, we had lots of family and friends that would frequent our home all year round. I was rarely alone. Virginia was different. The people were not as friendly, and we only had a few distant cousins who lived nearby. So, consequently, I become kind of a loner. Not to mention that my two brothers and grandmother, who also lived with us, did not come with us. It was a huge transition. In Hampton, music became my solace and has been ever since. But there were a lot of great musicians with whom I got a chance to play and connect: Steve Wilson, James Genus, Billy Drummond, Ron Jenkins, Jimmy Masters. There were a lot of cats who could play from this area. It's a little odd when you think about it.

Berklee/Boston years

I attended Berklee in 1983. I moved there directly after graduating from high school. It was an exciting time. Jazz was experiencing a resurgence, spawned by the success of Wynton Marsalis. My friends and I could not wait to get to New York. While at Berklee, I had many talented classmates: Danilo Perez, Javon Jackson, Julian Josephs, Antonia Hart, Mark  Turner, Steve Armour, Donny McCaslin, and others. They raised the bar high, and I felt compelled to work hard all the time. That kind of work ethic laid the ground for the type of person and musician I've become today.

Donald Byrd

My first gig after Berklee was with Donald Byrd. The story was that his agent wanted him to use Junior Cook, but Byrd wanted a younger voice.   Byrd asked Donald Brown to tour with him that summer, so he recommended me. I was so ecstatic. As you can imagine, being hired to tour with someone you've listened to on recordings can be a dream come true--especially when you're 21 years old. He was a great musician and a prolific academic. Every conversation with him was an information-packed history lesson. Too bad we didn't have smartphones back then, he was an encyclopedia of stories. All of his conversations/lectures should be on YouTube.

Terence Blanchard

I worked with Terence from 1989 – 1994. He heard me playing at the Blue Note one night, while I was running the after-hours session for saxophonist Justin Robinson. Terence was leaving the group he co-led with Donald Harrison and was looking to start his band. My first gig with Terence was with Danilo Perez on piano, Rodney Whitaker was on bass, and Dwayne "Cook" Broadnax was on drums. It was so much fun! We did a three-day tour in North Carolina. Paul Jeffries, who used to run the jazz program at Duke University, put it together. One thing I can say about Terence is that he was serious about his career, early on. Terence never bought into the type of narrative of how a jazz musician should be or live. Having a certain kind of lifestyle was always important to him, and he never stopped pursuing that which afforded him the things he wanted. Not to mention, his fantastic musicianship. He’s one of the most naturally talented musicians I've ever met. 

Soprano Saxophone! Why?  

 I switched to the soprano saxophone in 1996. I'm not sure why. It was something that I felt compelled to do and just went with it--no real rhyme or reason. I would never have foreseen that journey it has taken me on. I hope my path will inspire others to think differently and not be afraid to go against the grain. It's scary, but the rewards are off the charts.

SONY/Major labels: 

My first recording with Global Unity,  my working band at the time, was released on Sony/Columbia in 1999. I recorded a second one for them that ended up getting shelved--a familiar story with major labels. But I learned a lot about the music business--the good and the bad. The major-label is a different animal. The most important lesson I learned from my experience is that if you play creative music, the way you exploit it must be equally creative. Major labels are NOT the answer.

Jazz criticism/journalism/literature

These folks are necessary evils. However, we need to diversify the perspectives: more black writers, more women writers, and more musician writers.  Unfortunately, not all musicians can write, so we need somebody to do it.

Visual arts

I've always been influenced by visual art and artists: Jackson Pollack, Picasso, Yayoi Kusama are still constant sources of inspiration. For me, how to arrive at innovation is clearer to understand through visual art. There’s a certain audacity and clarity that exist in visual art that I don't always find as easily in music. But seeing it helps me to recognize it when I hear it in music. It takes a lot of courage to adhere to what's in your head than what you've learned in the classroom. It's certainly not for the faint at heart.

Greatest triumph

My greatest triumph has been staying the course. There were times when I doubted myself. But the more I stay focused and undeterred, the richer my journey becomes. It's pretty deep. I wish others could experience this. But it's a lot of sacrifice. Most people aren't cut out for it. I can hardly blame them. I'm barely cut out for it myself.

Solo work/creation

My solo work is when I went from being a musician to being an artist. And it's also the medium through which I've been the most prolific. Since 2007, I've released eight solo recordings. Solo soprano saxophone, exploring extended techniques, is not for everybody. Sometimes it's not even for me. But I think it's essential work that should be documented. And the industry almost seems tailor-made for someone like me. You don't need traditional platforms like terrestrial radio, print publications, and concert halls to get your music heard. The internet has created micro universes. This has opened up numerous possibilities. And as I" ve said, this is perfect for someone like me. Even if a traditional label has an experimental roster, they would never have allowed me to create the body of work I've recorded over the past 20 years. It's hard to even imagine my life without being able to document my solo work. In fact, in June 2020, I've released three live recordings in the digital-only format. I could never have done this ten years ago. 

Identity

 Finding our musical identity is complicated. We're taught in a way that leads us to live vicariously through the artistic vision of others.

Teaching

I've never done a lot of one-on-one saxophone lessons. Most of my teaching has been in the classroom. I find individual private lessons draining and I think meeting every week is excessive. If you're working through a piece of music and you need to dissect each section for a student, that' s different. Or if they're a beginner. But if the student can already play, you should act more as an advisor. Most students look to teachers to give them a map when what they need is someone to help them devise their compass. 

Favorite jazz club

Smalls, hands down. They understand what it's all about. The goal is not to maximize the square footage of space for all of its financial potential; the goal is to build a community. It's about giving. It's about making a difference, not making a dollar. It's about creating an environment that folks feel they can call home. People may not always go to a stranger's place, but they will always come home. Roberto's Winds has done something similar. Most of those music shops in Times Square have closed. But not Roberto's. The other places were always trying to hustle their customers.  And you tolerated them only because you had to; there was no one else around. Their selfishness destroyed them. But yes, Smalls does it correctly. I hope others will follow in their footsteps, but doing it their way, of course.

 The state of the music

I think the state of music is good. It's vibrant and diverse. Many micro musical universes have popped up due to the internet. It's much easier to create a consortium of like-minded folks who essentially become your support system. You inspire them, they inspire you, and new and personal music arises as a result. I'm just glad I'm young enough to still benefit from this. It's a beautiful thing.

Jazz

Many people hate the word "jazz." I love it. People may not consider my more experimental stuff to be jazz, but that's their problem, not mine. It's a tradition that I'm proud to be a part of. To play jazz and to be considered a jazz musician, is the highest of honors.

 Overrated

I feel being popular is overrated. As I mentioned earlier, in 1999, I was on Columbia/Sony for just a short period. I don't talk about it much, but it was one of the worst experiences in my career.  Immediately I felt like, "If this is the mountain top, show me the way down." Instead of staying true to my musical vision, my focus was always on trying to seek the approval of other people. It's built into the culture of making money. Everything I do now is independent. Self-releasing recordings afforded me a particular artistic singularity that I feel will allow me to carve out a small niche for myself in the history of the music. It's very empowering not to have beg people to pick you. I can just pick myself. Now, when I extend my hand, it's to share, not to have it filled. And another fallback of being popular is that your playing can become trendy. As we all know, trends come and go. I think this one of the reasons Thelonius Monk sounds fresh, even today. We were not subjected to 50 years of Thelonious Monk clones--especially compared to players like Bud Powell, Bill Evans, and McCoy Tyner.  As great as Kenny Garrett is, I've heard so many alto players cloning him, nothing he plays surprises me anymore. Being popular is tricky.

 "If I could do it all over again, one thing I would do differently…"

If I could do it all over again, I would move to New York better prepared financially. I moved here with a few pieces of furniture, my suitcase, my horn, and three months' rent. I started in debt, and it took me years to climb out of it. But I was so anxious to move here and get started, and I couldn't fathom the thought of hanging out in Boston for another year or two trying to save up money. But what can I say? All of those difficult times made me the person and musician/artist that I am today. But I guess it's like they say: Everything happens for a reason.