Andrew Cyrille tonite. (Anytime tonight, he says. And a cool “what’s happenin’” to you.) 12:40AM
In 1974, percussion master Andrew Cyrille was living in Ridgefield Park, New Jersey. I was living with my great friend, roommate, and patron Nick Moy (that’s Nick’s handwritten note to me above) on 113th Street in Morningside Heights in Manhattan. Contradictory to his sometime stern demeanor, Andrew was one of the friendliest, warmest men you’d want to meet, as I found out as we became acquainted when I recorded his bandleader Cecil Taylor several times over the year.
A budding music producer and engineer, I somehow persuaded Andrew to allow me to take a shot at recording his debut LP, a series of duets with another avant-garde great, Milford Graves. Dialog of the Drums (you can hear it here) would be a percussion only record, a music combination I was eager to hear and even more eager to capture on tape.
The only problem was I had no access to appropriate studio space.
Once, I dragged the equipment over to Milford’s basement in Queens, where he day jobbed as a homeopathic pharmacist. Most absurdly, I suggested that Andrew record a piercing solo on an African drum in our 2nd floor apartment at 11 o’clock at night. I was naive, I guess Nick was too, but I really can’t understand how we didn’t get evicted.
My recordings were adequate, I think, but Andrew and Milford were unhappy with the performances. Ultimately, they released a live recording from Columbia University.*
A couple of years later I recruited Andrew for an early tour of the Carla Bley big band I was road managing. Soon after I head to a life in commercial radio and television and Andrew and I completely lost touch.
* I did the majority of Columbia’s WKCR recordings during this period, but even though I’m the credited engineer in a few discographies, I ultimately had nothing to do with the released album. I wish I did, it’s really good.