Music Credits: “NY” composed and performed by Kosta T, from the cd Soul Sand. Used courtesy of the Free Music Archive.
Terence Blanchard, Live at Monterey Jazz Festival, 2023. “Oh- By The Way” from the album Oh-By the Way, composed by Terence Blanchard, performed by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. “Sing Soweto” composed and performed by Terence Blanchard, from the cd Terence Blanchard. “Flow Pt.1” from the cd Flow, composed and performed by Terence Blanchard.
 

Jo Reed: For the National Endowment for the Arts, this is Art Works, I’m Josephine Reed. Trumpeter, composer, bandleader—Terence Blanchard is a six-time Grammy winner, a MacArthur Genius Fellow, a two-time Oscar nominee, and now, a 2024 NEA Jazz Master. Over the course of his career, he’s left an indelible mark from his early years with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers to his decades-long collaboration with Spike Lee to his groundbreaking work in opera. In this first of a two-part conversation recorded at the end of 2023, Terence takes us back to where it all began—New Orleans. He talks about growing up in a city filled with music, the teachers who shaped his artistry, and the pivotal moments that set him on the path to becoming one of today’s most influential musicians. With all he has accomplished, one of the things that has remained constant is the influence of New Orleans. So I began by asking him how the city—its music, its culture, its energy—has shaped his career.

Terence Blanchard: Well, New Orleans is one of those cities where growing up here, either you are a musician or you have been heavily affected by the music. I've heard a lot of great music from the time that I was a little kid. I remember going to picnics and there being live bands of people that really could play. So that stuff, it's in your DNA and no matter where I go, no matter what I do in my career, this is always with me. 

Jo Reed: You grew up in a city full of music and in a house that was full of music too.

Terence Blanchard: Yeah, it was so interesting me, because the house that I grew up just had music everywhere. My mom's sister played piano and taught voice. My dad loved opera and was an amateur baritone and sang all the time. Sister's husband sang with my dad. So there was always performances when I was a little kid, recitals, church performances, things like that, that I was going to, whether they were singing or not. So it became second nature just to be around it. And my grandmother had a piano at our house, and I used to just try to bang on the piano because everybody was playing it at some point.

So I would try to take my turn and I didn't know what I was doing. I was about five years old. And then that's when they started me on lessons when I was five years old. I guess they got tired of me trying to play Batman without knowing what I was doing. But it was a type of thing where, I don't know how to explain it. There was always references. No matter what type of music I was into. I remember Andre Previn would come on television. My dad would scream, come here, come here. Sit down now listen to that. Oscar Peterson. I remember Oscar Peterson was on television one time, and he said, man, look at his touch. Look at how he uses his fingers and how his hands are placed. That was a big thing for my parents, and I think for me now, looking back, it all resonated around the whole notion of being excellent at what it is that you did.

Don't ever take it for granted. My father used to come home when I was a little kid, and I'm a kid. My dad would come home and he sold the insurance, and he always had a lot of change in his pockets and a lot of keys. So soon as he hit the door, I could hear him in the back of the house and I'll be like, "oh my God, here he is." And he comes back there and I must be about eight or nine years old, and he goes, "Hey, man, don't you have a recital in two months? You need to be practicing." And I'm like, "yes, in two months." I said, "I have time. What are you talking about, man?" And he would make me go up there and practice, and he would sit on the couch right next to me while I would practice. And he was like, "Hey, hey, go back. Go back. Go back. Do that again." Yeah. So he would never let me get away with anything when I was a kid.

Jo Reed: When did you start playing trumpet? How did the switch come about?

Terence Blanchard: What happened was, wow, switching to trumpet was an interesting endeavor. In fourth grade in elementary school, a guy named Alvin Alcorn came to my elementary school to give us a demonstration on New Orleans traditional music. And it was something about the way the trumpet resonated, the vibrato and his tone, the sound, it sounded human and vocal like to me. And I remember going home, I tell him, my dad, I said, dad, I want to play the trumpet. What made that interesting was my grandmother had the piano and he had just rented a piano for me to have at the house, so you could imagine that conversation.

But listen, after he calmed down and the swearing stopped, he said, listen, if you practice, I'll get you a horn, but you got to practice. And again, setting the tone for me. You know what I mean? Letting me know what the work ethic was about. And then a few years, or maybe it was a year or something after I had my horn, we get to a stoplight and there's Alvin Alcorn in the car next to us, and I go, dad, that's the guy. He's the reason why I'm playing the trumpet. My dad knew him. I didn't know that. You know what I mean? And my dad rolls down the window, of course, it's one of those long lights. And my dad rolled out, he say, “Hey, Al.” And he goes, “Hey, Oliver, how you doing?” He said, “Hey, man, listen, my son plays the trumpet. You think you could teach him how to play jazz?” And I got excited because I'm like, man, I'm going to study with this guy. And he said, “No, no, no. He's got to learn how to do that on his own.” I was a little kid, man. I was crushed. I was crushed. But I look back on it, and I think it was probably the best thing for me to hear about learning how to go out and get it yourself, not rely on other people, but do the work yourself.

Jo Reed: Well, you always speak so highly of your teachers throughout your life, but your early teachers, Martha Francis and Louise Winchester, and the great Roger Dickerson. Yes. Tell us how they influenced you, especially Roger Dickerson. Still he's a touchstone.

Terence Blanchard: Yes. Well, it's one of the things, well, I try to tell people all the time, because educators don't get enough respect. We don't shine enough light on them, but they are the real superheroes in a lot of our lives. Martha Francis was my very first piano teacher. The only reason why I laugh is because when I was studying with her, we were living in a double, and she lived in a double, she was in the part behind ours. So I could never miss a lesson ever, any weekend. And as a matter of fact, my bedroom's in the back of our part of the double, and their front one was the front. So I would hear them play the piano all night long. But she was great to get me started. And then Ms. Winchester, I was about 11 or 12 years old when I started studying with her.

I didn't realize what I was getting, but she was teaching me theory and giving me ear training lessons when I was 11 or 12 years old with some other kids. And we didn't know. We thought this is what you were supposed to do. So we were learning about how music was constructed. So that helped me with Roger, because when I went to Roger, my aunt, my mom's sister, she went to college with Roger at Dillard University, and then she said, maybe I should take him over to Roger to see if Roger will take him as a student. Because Roger was only teaching college students. He wasn't teaching high school students. But when I got there, he had seen my progress. I was about 14 or 15 years old and asked me some questions and then he took me on as a student. And from that moment on, man, my life, it took a turn because this guy, first of all, he felt like family. You know what I mean? He knew my aunt. He felt like somebody in my immediate family. And he would challenge my thinking all the time. “Well, tell me why is that significant?” I had to have answers.

When he started teaching me composition, I didn't ask. It was just something he started doing. And he taught me in such a way where everything that I had written or would write, I had to explain melody, counter lines, bass lines. I had to explain where they came from. There had to be some relevance to the original musical idea, which really started to make me understand about being concise, you know what I mean? And having some type of consistency throughout whatever it is that you create. But I didn't realize it because I'm a kid. I didn't realize it. Every week, I would go over my work, and I'm like, oh, alright. I got him this time. And I would get there and he would look at it and he'd go, that's nice. Oh man, this is really beautiful. It's great. But right here. And he would start to mark up my thing when I'm like, oh my God. But I love that level of attention to detail because it's done me well in my career now. And I wouldn't be here. And I don't have any shame in my game about saying it. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Roger. I would not, because he saw something in me I didn't see in myself.

And that's what teachers do. That's what the good ones do. And just to prove the point, when it came time to write an opera, I called him just like I, I would call him whenever I had big moments in my life, and I said, “Roger, these people are asking me to write an opera. I don't know what to do.” And he said, “trust your training.” He said,” trust your training.” He said, “don't write an opera, tell a story”. That's all he told me. But he knew what was in me. And then George Jensen was my trumpet teacher. And then Dr. Bro was a teacher that I had at NOCCA, and then Ellis Marsalis as well. So all of these people played a role in my life.

Jo Reed: And NOCCA is the New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts. You and the Marsalis family go back a long way. You and Wynton are childhood friends. Were you guys playing out in New Orleans? Were you playing in recitals?

Terence Blanchard: No. When I first met Wynton and Branford, we were at elementary school. I always tell a story, man, we were at the Loyola University summer music camp, and Wynton was going to sixth grade. I was going to fifth grade. I'll never forget it. Branford was going to seventh grade. And we were at the summer music camp, and it was not even the jazz band. It was like a concert band thing. And me and Wynton had the last two chairs in the trumpet section. We would've saddest dudes in the group. Man, I always talk about it. I said, I think most of our music had rest.

We sit there while the band was playing. We talked to each other, man. So what'd you do yesterday? Man? I played ball. What about you? Oh, man, I had football practice. It was that kind of thing. But not too long after that, I saw him, Wynton again, man. And he was playing up a storm. And I said, man, what are you doing? And that's when he told me, he says,” man, you got to go to NOCCA, New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts.” He said, you got to go there. And then he talked about John Longo, who was his trumpet teacher. So I immediately started to do some research about New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts, and found out that it was a public school. And I was going to a private school, and I had to talk my parents into it. And it was hard for them because the private school I was going to was one of the prestigious schools in the city. So to leave that to go to a public school was something they really couldn't put their heads around, but my parents stuck with me throughout all of that stuff. And once I got to NOCA, that was another big shift in my life because I was around kids like me who really wanted it badly, kids who would practice. And we were at an arts high school, so we were around dancers, actors, writers, painters. And it was an amazing experience that school was so smart and how they designed that program, because we would have a gala to raise money at the end of the year. And the gala itself was education for us, right? Because the gala was a performance where we brought all of the disciplines together to interact to make one big show. So we had the dancers, had the actors, we had the musicians, and sometimes there would be crosspollination between those disciplines. And it was a beautiful thing to witness because we all got a chance to learn.

Jo Reed: You ended up going to Rutgers University. Why Rutgers?

Terence Blanchard: Well, when it came time to go to college, I looked at a lot of schools, and what it really boiled down to was who were the trumpet teachers there? They had a great jazz program there with great jazz teachers. Paul Jeffries, who played in Thelonious Marks' band, Larry Ridley, Kenny Barron, who's a great jazz pianist and was actually one of my piano teachers. I studied piano with him a little bit, and it just made sense because then I would be close to New York.

Being in New Brunswick was really cool. Then as a matter of fact, I stayed with Paul Jeffries before school started. He was playing in Lionel Hampton's band at the time, and he took me on one of the gigs and told me to bring my horn. And then I'm out there and the band is setting up. It was an outdoor gig, I think, in Philly someplace, and the band is setting up, and some of the trumpet players asked me to pull on my horn and play. And then Lionel Hampton walked up behind me and goes, Hey, man, let me hear you play a blues with the piano player. So I played the blues with him, and the next thing you know, I was in the band. So I started traveling with Lionel Hampton's big band, basically before I started, maybe a week or two before I started school.

Jo Reed: What was that experience like for you? What an education that had to have been?

Terence Blanchard: Oh, man, being in that first thing about being in Lionel Hamptons band is that you realize when you get on the bus, everybody has their assigned seat and you, and don't disrespect that. You know what I mean? And I'm a young kid and I'm like 18 years old, Hey, young fellow, that's my seat. That happened for about five minutes, and I wind up in the back of the bus, of course, obviously. But once we got to the bandstand, it was an amazing experience. It was incredible. I had Curtis Fuller in that band who's a great trombone player. Frankie Dunlap, who played with Sonny Rollins was in that band; Oliver Beaner--he was a trumpet player in the section. He kind of took me under his wing. there were great musicians in that band man. And it was an education being around those guys because they would all play on a high level. Everybody in that group. And I was the youngest guy in the group. And it was interesting because they treated me with respect, but they treated me like they had expectations. Just because you’re a kid, don't think we're going to be easy on you. No, it wasn't that. I had to live up to everything by being in that band. And I think that band really helped prepare me to be in Art Blakey’s band after that, because I was getting training and learning how to elevate myself by being around those guys.

Jo Reed: It had to have been a transition going from Lionel Hampton's band to Art Blakey’s Band. They’re very different musicians, different band setups. Talk about that transition.

Terence Blanchard: No, it was a big transition going from Lionel Hampton to Art Blakey, because the big band, I'm in the section, I may be in one or two solos a night. With that small ensemble, you have a lot more responsibility. It's only one trumpet, two other horns and the rhythm section. So it placed a lot of responsibility on me really quickly. But it was exciting though, at the same time, because I'm playing with one of my heroes. I tell people all the time when I never forget, when I first saw Art Blakey’s band and saw him play live and played with him live, I had to go back and re-listen to all of my albums because it sounded different to me. There was a practicality about what it was that he was playing. And then to hear how he would shape our compositions was amazing.

I mean, because this is the dude I've been listening to on all these records with Wayne Shaw or Herbie Hancock, and Lee Morgan, I mean, the list is endless. And now I'm standing in front of him and he's playing one of my tunes. It's crazy. It was really crazy. But it was a great, great learning experience. I was there for four years and wound up becoming the musical director of the band. And Art was, man, he was brilliant. He knew that I was a shy kid. I was a shy kid, didn't talk much whatsoever. And I'll never forget it. He says, I'm going to make you the musical director. You need to come out of your shell. You're too shy. And I said, okay. And which meant I needed to announce the tunes, announce the band, and do all of that stuff. And it was uncomfortable for me at first. Oh my God, just like trying to talk in public was not my thing, but I got adapted it rather quickly. But the most important thing about playing with Art was not just playing with him. I met all of my heroes while I was in that band. I met Dizzy Gillespie, I already knew Clark Terry, but I met Woody Shaw, Freddie Hubbard, Miles Davis. I met all those guys while I was in that band.

And as a matter of fact, when Dizzy came to do a show with us, Art told them that I played piano, and we had just taken a break intermission, and Dizzy goes, well, when we go back out, we just, me and you go out and we both play two ballads. I'm going to play a ballad and you play piano for me, and then you're going to play a ballad, and I'm going to play piano for you. And that's what we did. And I was about 20-21 years old. I always tell people, it's the first time you heard vibrato on a piano, man. Because I was shaking. I'm sitting there going, this is Dizzy Gillespie, man, and I'm up here playing a piano with Dizzy Gillespie. It was crazy. But that was the kind of experiences that I had.

So I tell people all the time, even though I was in that band for four years, I felt like I aged by 40 because it was such a rapid thing of seeing all of these great musicians hanging out with him, meeting Wayne Shorter, seeing Herbie Hancock, watching Tony Williams play. Tony, we played a show at this club. It was called Fat Tuesday, and it was a small little club. And at the table right in front of us, it was Max Roach, Roy Haynes and Jack DeJohnette sitting at the table right in front of us while we're playing. And I'm like 19 years old. I'm looking at… I'm like, wow, how did I get here? How did this happen? But that was the kind of rapid acceleration of growth that I experienced while I was in that band for four years.

Jo Reed: And you also experienced a lot of growth in terms of composition because Blakey demanded that musicians composed. Talk about that and beginning to come into your own as a composer.

Terence Blanchard: Well, as soon as I joined the band, Art goes, “Wynton told me you could write. I want you to bring your music to the group.” And what was the most challenging thing for us in that band was by the time we got to that band, he had already made a bunch of iconic records. So there's a sound in our head about what the Jazz Messengers were. But he wanted us to change that. He wanted us to have our own version of that. You know what I mean? As a matter of fact, one of the little things, I don't know if a lot of people noticed this, but when Wynton and Branford and all of them left the band, there was a big shift over in the band. He got a new set of drums. It was a little subtle thing that he would do all the time. So when we left the band, same thing happened. He got a new set of drums, you know what I mean? But that's just the type of guy that he was. And he was like, I remember one time we were playing at Sweet Basil’s, and he goes, “I want this band to get to the point where we could just go out there and create a tune just on the fly.’ That's Art Blakey saying that. There was no boundaries for him, even though he had a strong musical personality. But within that personality, the sky was the limit. It was really about how we could really craft the music to really have our own version of the Messengers while we were there.

Jo Reed: And while you were still with The Messengers, you and your fellow, New Orleanian Donald Harrison got together and created your own quintet.

Terence Blanchard: Yes.

Jo Reed: What did you and Donald want to do together musically? And tell me about that time that you were together. You created some gorgeous, gorgeous records.

Terence Blanchard: No, thank you. Thank you. What happened while Donald and myself were in the band was George Wein approached us and he said, man, I want to record you guys as a duo. And we were like, oh, okay. And once we put our heads around it, for us, it was an opportunity to create and to create our own sound. One of the things I'll say about Donald and myself, back then, we never really tried to sound like anybody. We were in search of. We were trying a lot of different things. And when we put the band together at first and started touring, man, that was an education because all of a sudden now, we don't have that strong thing coming from Art Blakey. And we had great drummers, but we had to get adjusted to playing with other people, but in the meantime, give them a kind of sense of where we were coming from musically.

I looked at it as a workshop group. Let's just try these ideas, man. We have this moment in time where we have this band together. Let's just try things. And that's what we did. When you listen to those records, I listen back to 'em and they make me smile. The thing that I'm proud of is that we made the effort. We didn't sit back and just accept things. We really tried our best to create our own sound.

Jo Reed: You have banner years throughout your life. In 1991 was one you started your solo career with release of the self-titled album Terence Blanchard. And then that same year, you began your more than 30 year collaboration with Spike Lee. So let's take the solo career first. What made you decide, okay, I want to go out.

Terence Blanchard: Again, I didn't make those decisions. What happened was George Butler at Columbia Records, he came up to me and says, Hey, man, I want to do a solo album with you. And I said, okay, okay, fine. But here's the wild part about it, though. I was working on a song for that album, the Self-titled album, and just so happened to be working with Spike for Mo Better Blues, where we're doing the pre-records. So we took a break, and I started going through that song for that album, and Spike walks by and he goes, "Man, what's that?" Or, I said, "it's a song that I'm working on called 'Sing Soweto', something that I'm working on for my album." He goes, "Hey, man, can I use it in the movie?" And I said, "sure." So at the time, we just recorded it, just the melody just trumpet.

And I was like, oh, cool, man. My tune's going to be in a movie. I didn't think none of it. That's going to be kind of cool. And the next thing you know, he came up to him and he goes, ‘Hey, man, can you write a string arrangement for it?” And it's one of those moments where do I lie? Or do I tell the truth? So I lied. I said, yeah, I got to write a string arrangement for it. That's when I called Roger, I called Roger, Hey, man, listen, I have this thing to do, man. Same thing. Trust your training. You'll be okay. I did the arrangement. I came back, and we are in the studio now. There's a 60 piece orchestra out there. I handed music to Spike's dad, because he was scoring the film and Spike's dad goes, “Uhuh, you wrote it, you conduct it.” And I went, excuse me, what? And right at that moment, I went back to my high school training where we used to do sight singing classes. It was embarrassing. But we got through it. We got through it, and Spike came up to me afterwards, and he goes, you have a future in this business. And I said, oh, man, thank you. I really didn't think nothing of it, but then he called me to do Jungle Fever. So all of that stuff was happening at the same time. And I look back on it now and think about how crazy it was at the time. But for me, it was just there were opportunities that were in front of my face that I had to try to experience and try to take advantage of.

Jo Reed: And Jungle Fever was the first film for Spike that you actually scored?

Terence Blanchard: Yes. And the reason why I'm laughing is because he loved “Sing Soweto” so much. He couldn't get it out of his ear. So I kept trying to write these other themes for him. He goes, "Yeah, yeah. Hey, man, let's just use 'Sing Soweto'." He said, "Nobody don't know." And I said, "But remember, it was in another movie." He said, "Nobody will know." So that's what happened. And then I literally didn't think he was going to call me to do Malcolm X because it was such a big movie, big budget film, major stars. And sure enough, he said, "Listen, man, get ready. I want you to do Malcolm X." I immediately started listening to some scores, started studying. I was cramming because Jungle Fever was a great experience, but I knew Malcolm X was going to be something totally different. So I had to be prepared. And I did a lot of work before we started working on that. So I know that I did the best that I could at that time because I'd studied so much.

Jo Reed: Terence, what goes into scoring a film? And the B part of that question is, and what goes into working with Spike in particular, that's such a long collaboration.

Terence Blanchard: So when it comes to film scoring really my job is to help with director tell a story the best way they see fit. Now, the interesting thing about it, there's so many ways to do it, and that's where the problem comes in, because sometimes with certain young directors, mostly they can be all over the place, and sometimes you have to hone them in and say, look, well, let's make a decision about an approach so we can have some consistency throughout the entire thing. Within that approach, there can be variables, obviously, but that's the great thing about working with Spike. Spike, man, that dude, he respects all of the different crafts that it takes to make a movie. So he doesn't stand over you. He's not bothering you all the time. The most that I hear from him is when we are initially creating the themes. When I'm writing these themes for him, we'll go through the film and he'll say, "I want this person, this person to have a theme." Then I'll come back here and I'll start to work on a theme, and I'll write him down, and I record him just on the piano. He doesn't want it any other way, just on the piano. And I'll send him to him and he listens to him and he sings him. And then either we get together or he'll call me and he says, "Hey, Terence, I want number 11 to be so-and-so's theme number four, to be so-and-so's theme." And we go through an entire thing like that. And then once he does that, I don't hear from him until we get to the studio.

And I think, I don't know this to be true, it is only my speculation, but I think it's like a psychological thing, because if somebody puts that kind of trust in you, man, it makes you check everything three times. You know what I mean? Because you don't want to let that person down if they're giving you that type of room. You know what I mean? I want to make sure that things are going to be right. I don't like getting into the studio and still having to write music. I try to make sure all of my scores are done when we get to the stage. I don't like that extra tension. And it is been great working with Spike because I'll show up, everything's ready, and I get to the studio maybe two hours ahead. And when I get that two hours ahead, it's because I just want to relax.

I don't want to run in and jump into work. No. We relax and be kind of joking around, and then all of a sudden Spike shows up, "Hey man," boom, boom, boom, boom, boom. And then the concertmaster come in, he says, "They're all tuned up and ready to go, boom." And then we go out and we'll start the first scene. We'll pick a scene, say, Spike, what do you want to hear? Let's do this scene. And once we do it, I realized it's him wanting to hear the entire score for the first time. An audience will hear it. And he's brilliant in that way, man. So one of the things about working with Spike that I should have alluded to earlier, it's like working with Michael Jordan. It's like you're on a fast break and you are the last guy and he's about to pass you the ball. You can't miss the shot. You can't. So Spike has always made me stretch in ways other directors haven't because of his cinematic style.

Jo Reed: And you were nominated for an Academy Award for a best score for two of the films Da Five Bloods and BlacKkKlansman.

Terence Blanchard: Yeah. Congratulations. No, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. That was pretty funny though, when we got nominated for BlacKkKlansman, because the journalists asked us, it was Barry Alexander Brown, Spike and myself, and he asked us, "was it working together for 30 years?" And we were really? Damn. It’s been 30 years. Okay. But the thing that I had to say when the guy asked us that is that it's been brilliant working with those guys for 30 years because they never talked about demographics. They only talked about what was best for the movie every time, for every film. And it was something I never really noticed until he asked me that. Whenever they were making about editing or storytelling, it was all about what was best for the story. And you got to give them credit for that being an artist and being true to their art.

Jo Reed: Yeah, we see it on the screen.

Terence Blanchard: Yes. Yes, we do.

Jo Reed: While we're talking about this, I have to bring up Perry Mason, which you recently scored. And I just wonder if there's a different way you have to approach an ongoing series as opposed to a single film. 

Terence Blanchard: What's interesting about doing series episodic television is that if the series is great, it helps you evolve with the storyline. When we did the first season, I told Tim Van Patton, who was the director and producer of it, I said, man, I said, dude, you're making this easy for me. He goes, what do you mean? I said, everything's on the screen. There's nothing for me to manipulate or add a supplement. I'm following you guys. I'm following the action. I'm following the storyline. And when you have John Lithgow and Matthew Reese, the cast was incredible. You know what I mean? Those guys make it easy.

The cool part about that was just that it was a remake of something that I grew up watching, but the remake was brave. Paul Drake is an African American guy. Della is a gay woman. There was so many things about the story that I thought was just brave, and they were mixing up all of these things. And I told Tim, well, that's what we need to do with the music. We should mix up the old and the new. Because at first, they wanted me to do it with a big band. I'm like, I don't think that's what this thing needs. I mean, we could have done it that way. It wouldn't have been a problem. But I kept thinking something else. And oddly enough, man, I wasn't going to play on it at all. No, I wasn't going to play on it. But what happened was we did the first season during the pandemic, so I was upstairs in my studio working on it, and then when it came time to record, we couldn't get in the room. So we had to get everybody to do their parts in their home studios. That's what happened the first season.. We had to get everybody to do their stuff in their home studios and then piece it together. So in the process of that, I said, well, I don't know who we're going to give for a lead instrument because I had been thinking about maybe a voice or maybe something else.

And then I said, man, alright, why don't you just play on it for now? And then that became the thing. And then when season two rolled around, I don't know. I don't know how to explain it, it became fun because I didn't have to create the palette that was already created in season one, but I did have to think about how am I not going to beat people over the head with those themes? You know what I mean? And again, it had to be integrated into the storyline and the storylines was powerful. I think they did a great job. That was one show. I was really sorry that we didn't get picked up for a third season, but I thought it was an amazing month for me. I had a lot of fun working on it.

Jo Reed: Meanwhile, you're pushing your own solo work forward in albums like Flow produced by Herbie Hancock, and that was some great jazz. It had some soul grooves going on, west African beats, funk, all coming together in a really wonderful hole. Can you talk about putting that together and the relationship you and Herbie have?

Terence Blanchard: Well, it was so interesting working on Flow because we didn't have a title for it first, right? We knew we wanted to do an album of our original music. And I said, man, maybe I should get Herbie to produce. And I said, ah, let me ask him. And he said, yes. And when he said yes, that was a pivotal moment for us as a group, because at the time, we're still trying to figure out our way as a band. And we get into the studio and Herbie just starts talking to us in a way, nobody talked to us before. He said, man, but what band played plays like this band? He said, I love this band. At the time, he said, there's my band, Wayne's Band and your band. Those are the three bands that I like. 

And his leadership just by what he did, was incredible, incredible. It made us like reach. But the funny part was we realized we were running out of material for the album, and Herbie said, well, man, y'all jazz musicians go out there and create something. And that's how Flow came about, and that's why it's called Flow, because one of the things that we were experiencing is being in the moment, being in that flow. And it's funny because a lot of people think art and creating stuff is about a struggle, and it's not because sometimes when you're on the flow of something, it just comes out. But that's why I think you practice, you hone your skills. So when that surge of energy comes, it comes through that filter.

Jo Reed: Let’s talk about your current band The E Collective for a moment, how do you come together musically? How do you allow musicians their own voices and give them room for their own compositions, but at the same time to still create a coherent, cohesive band.

Terence Blanchard: With The E Collective man, it's been such a blessing playing with those dudes because it's like my other bands too. Everybody in the band can write, and everybody in the band is extremely creative. So what generally happens with us is that when we take on a new project, guys will jot down ideas to come up with things. And when we start to go on the road, we use our sound checks as rehearsals, and we run through ideas and we try different things, and all of a sudden we'll start to implement things into the lineup, and then it just kind of grows from there. But the thing that's cool about this band, what's ever on the page, that is just a roadmap. You know what I mean? That's a starting point. Because once these guys get it in their minds and they know what it is, they tried things every night and then it just kind of grows from there. It's been such a great thing playing with them. That's the reason why we did the live album, because we kept saying, okay, us in the studio is fine, but when we're playing live is when a lot of the magic really happens. And we wanted to really capture that. But these dudes, there's something else, man. I love playing with those guys because they're so flexible and they're brilliant, man.

Jo Reed: That was part 1 of my two-part interview with trumpeter, composer and 2024 NEA Jazz Master Terence Blanchard. In part 2, Terence discusses the impact of Hurricane Katrina on his life and his work, his ongoing exploration of music with his current band, taking on the role of artistic director of SFJAZZ, his groundbreaking work in opera, and his role as an educator mentoring the next generation of musicians. Follow Behind the Mic wherever you get your podcasts and part 2 will simply appear in your feed. You’ve been listening to Art Works produced at the National Endowment for the Arts, I’m Josephine Reed—thanks for listening.

Terence Blanchard: Oh, man, being in that first thing about being in Lionel Hamptons band is that you realize when you get on the bus, everybody has their assigned seat and you, and don't disrespect that. You know what I mean? And I'm a young kid and I'm like 18 years old, Hey, young fellow, that's my seat. That happened for about five minutes, and I wind up in the back of the bus, of course, obviously. But once we got to the bandstand, it was an amazing experience. Oliver Beaner, he was a trumpet player in the section. He kind of took me under his wing because he was like, man, come sit by me. You know what I mean? And I remember I was such a young kid, and his wife met me and saw me in the band and knew I was a college student. So when we'd have trips, she'd fix a meal for him, and then she'd fix extra stuff for me to have, because I was just a kid.

But then musically, excuse me. But then musically, it was incredible. I had Curtis Fuller in that band who's a great trombone player. Frankie Dunlap, who played with Sonny Rollins was in that band. And like I said, Oliver Beaner, there were great musicians in that band man. And it was an education being around those guys because they would all play on a high level. Everybody in that group. And I was the youngest guy in the group. And it was interesting because they treated me with respect, but they treated me like a, they had expectations. Just because you a kid, don't think we're going to be easy on you. No, it wasn't that I had to live up to everything by being in that band. And I think that band really helped prepare me to be in our Blakeys band after that, because I was getting training and learning how to elevate myself by being around those guys.

Music Credits: “NY,” composed and performed by Kosta T, from the cd Soul Sand. Used courtesy of the Free Music Archive.
“Sakura” traditional, performed by June Kuramoto. “Kokora” from the album Hiroshima, composed by Dave Iwataki and performed by Hiroshima. “Taiko Song” from the album Hiroshima, composed by Dan Kuramoto and performed by Hiroshima.

Jo Reed: From the National Endowment for the Arts, this is Art Works. I’m Josephine Reed.
You’re listening to 2024 National Heritage Fellow June Kuramoto playing the koto a traditional Japanese stringed instrument. It is played by plucking its 13 strings with picks worn on the fingers, and its movable bridges allow for intricate tuning, creating a sound that is both delicate and powerful. It’s an instrument that requires precision, artistry, and heart—qualities that have defined June Kuramoto, who has spent her life expanding what’s possible with this iconic instrument.

Born in Japan and raised in Los Angeles, June fell in love with the koto as a homesick child yearning for a connection to her heritage. She quickly became an acclaimed traditional koto player, earning advanced degrees from the prestigious Miyagi School of Koto in Japan and mastering the intricate techniques of the instrument. But she didn’t stop with traditional koto music. Instead, she forged a groundbreaking path, blending its unique sound with jazz, R&B, and contemporary music, becoming a trailblazer as both a soloist and a founding member of the Grammy-nominated band Hiroshima. June Kuramoto’s story begins with a journey—one that would shape her life and her music in profound ways. As a young child, she left Japan with her mother and siblings to settle in the United States--a transition filled with challenges and resilience.

June Kuramoto: I was about five and a half years old when we came to the United States, and it was a very difficult transition. I don't think our parents really sat us down and told us what was really going on, that we were moving to a different country. And if they did explain to us at five and a half, what's a different country, right? All we knew is we were going on a boat ride.
But I remember to the night before, I had woken up in the middle of the night because I heard my mother crying and she was crying because she was leaving her home country. So that sent me to a guarded, sad place. My mother came to America with four children from two to seven years old by herself. My mother was a Japanese citizen. But my father was an American citizen and he was in Japan when the war broke out. Now he was stuck in Japan because he wouldn't be able to find a good job in America.
Now, my father wanted us to go to America to be educated. So he wanted to be sure that we grew up in America and got good education, and that's why he sent my mother and us four kids to America. Now, my mother should have gotten an NEA award for coming to America by herself with four kids.

Jo Reed: June remembers vividly the first time she heard a koto played.

June Kuramoto: Now, my mother was fortunate to be introduced to a social welfare organization that taught, especially Japanese immigrants how to survive in America. And they taught you how to make spaghetti and tacos so that you can find ingredients here. But one of those gatherings, they had a concert day, and this Japanese woman played this Japanese instrument. It was the Koto.
And soon as I heard it, I fell in love with it. And I felt, I loved the sound, I loved the way it looked. It just captured me. And I believe it was also my connection to Japan because I was so homesick. And that was, I think, my true heart of falling in love with this instrument.

Jo Reed: The woman playing the koto was Kazuo Kudo who would become June’s first teacher or sensei
June Kuramoto: So I told my mother, I said, "Mama, I want to learn this instrument. Can I please learn?" And so my mother approached Mrs. Kazuo Kudo. She had just immigrated to Los Angeles, and she didn't have a place to teach, so my mother offered her our house. And so Kudo Sensei came to our house once a week and taught Koto there. And she even brought her three sons who were very young around our age, and we all had dinner together after she taught. And so in exchange for lessons for my two sisters and I, my teacher got to teach there.

Jo Reed: That meant not only was June taking lessons, but she was listening to the Koto constantly in her house.

June Kuramoto: I think that's where I was totally absorbed and just enraptured by the whole experience. But at the same time, my two sisters who were taking it, didn't. They quit in about a year or two. They didn't like it, but I love Koto music and the complexity. The more I learned and studied, the more complex and beautiful it is.

Jo Reed: And June was a prodigy. By her late teens, she received advanced degrees from the Miyagi School of Koto in Japan and became one of the few koto masters in America today.
(Music up)
Jo Reed: The koto with its 13 strings and 13 movable bridges can be tuned in different ways which gives it amazing range and flexibility—but also makes it a complex instrument to play.

June Kuramoto: Originally it was on a, what they call pentatonic scale, which is five note scale. But because of the 13 bridges that are movable, you can create diatonic scale. And what we used to say was the Do Re Me Fa So La Ti Do scale, or you can even tune it chromatically. So that was one of the most challenging things when I started to improvise, is finding the tuning, but also the fifth string is not always a D, it depended on what kind of tuning you used. And if you use chromatically or diatonic tuning, the intervals would be different.

Jo Reed: But as demanding and beautiful and immersive as the koto was, it wasn’t the only music June was listening to. She was raised in the Los Angeles neighborhood of Crenshaw, home to both Japanese Americans and African Americans including many Black artists, like Ray Charles, Tina Turner, and Natalie Cole. And those voices influenced June’s music as much as traditional Japanese music.

June Kuramoto: This is the 60s and it's the R&B, the Doo-wop groups, the Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, Marvin Gaye and The Temptations. And what's a Koto? My friends would call it grandma's music. But at the same time, I love the R&B music too. I love Smokey. I mean, who did not love Smokey? So then that's where I think I wanted to try to incorporate soul music or instrumentations to the Koto so that maybe my friends and my peers would also see the beauty of the instrument if it was put more in a contemporary setting and maybe with contemporary instrumentation.

Jo Reed: In fact, June wanted to adapt the R&B song Duke of Earl for the koto.

June Kuramoto: Well, this is really how old I am, I had the transistor radio, and that's what I would listen. I had to walk everywhere, but I take the transistor radio. And at that moment when I was at my lesson, “Duke of Earl” came on and I played it to my Koto teacher, and I said, "Sensei, I want to learn how to play this on the Koto." And she told me that you cannot play that on the instrument but I was also sort of a rebellious teenager. And I think the more people said, or your parents especially said, no, then it kind of makes you want to do it more. And also, if you hear it, you feel it, you dream it, there's a way. I guess my dream to keep doing it. Sometimes I did give up, but the dream still would come back. So I kept pursuing it and little by little, you chisel your way. And that's where I feel you can move from a mountain, a shovel at a time. It takes time, but if you have the will, you can do it. And I kept pursuing it.

Jo Reed: Even as June continued to play traditional koto music, she was still determined to bring the instrument to other contemporary musical genres. And when she met multi-instrumentalist Dan Kuramoto at a community event, she saw her chance.

June Kuramoto: In the late 60s, early 70s, the quote "Movement" began to happen, especially for the Japanese American communities, and we wanted to discover our identity. And also at the same time, we had such negative stereotypic images available to us and we felt that is so small, that is so narrow. We need to educate and teach ourselves and the world that we are viable people and we have something to say and we have feelings, and we have culture, and we have worth. So we started taking care of our people, our communities, being involved with social justices as well as many, with other communities as well because we realized we are also Third World. And so there was this organization called Gidra that was creating an Asian American newspaper, and they would throw on a picnic, a community picnic, where they would have entertainment. And so they asked me to represent a cultural part, so I would play Koto music, but there was this band that also played at it. And at that time, the band was already named Hiroshima. And I looked at that and they were avant-garde, doing their own music, writing their own music. And at that time, the Japanese Americans had bands, but they were mostly copy bands playing cover tunes as they called them, and playing at dances. And I thought, "Oh, this band is different. Maybe they'll be open to incorporating the Koto and maybe we can start doing something, or I can start experimenting." So I approached the band and Dan was the leader, "Would you be open to jamming with this instrument?" And I think it took him a while, about a week or two, and he got back to me and said, "Yeah, I'd be willing to."

Jo Reed: That meeting led to reformation of the band Hiroshima, which became a pioneering Grammy-nominated Asian American band that blended the sounds of the koto with keyboards, sax, drums, guitar, bass, and vocals. But it wasn’t an easy transition for June as she and Dan discovered how to make music together.

June Kuramoto: So what he and I originally did was jammed Koto and flute since he played flute together. So we would play that together, assimilating the traditional way where I played traditional Koto music and he would improvise his flute over my pieces. And that was the start. But I said, but that's beautiful and it works, but we wanted to do something more. So he encouraged me to improvise. And I go, "Improvise? What's that? Write me the music and I'll transcribe it, and then I'll do whatever." But he goes, "No, listen, play what you hear." And I go, "I don't hear anything." And he goes, "No, you got to listen." And that was the blood, sweat and tears of beginning of learning to open up and to really throw away everything you learned, right? Because as a classical player, you're trained, you can play fast, blah, blah, blah, but what do you really hear and what is inside of you? And I had to tear out everything of my inside to create something different, which was not easy. And I was not very pleasant either. You can imagine. Then when we tried to get together with the band, of course you want to be flashy. Look at how much I know. Look how fast I can play, blah, blah this. But Dan would always say, "You are a part of a puzzle here. You are not the whole thing. So we need to create spaces for everybody, and these are the important things of being in a band." And so like I say, you have to sort of swallow your ego and your pride and start all over. And that's how Hiroshima began with this new sound of incorporating Koto. And then eventually he was also learning the shakuhachi, the bamboo flute. And then we also knew people who played Taiko, so we incorporated Taiko the Japanese drums.
(music up)
Jo Reed: June credits the African American community for being early supporters of Hiroshima’s music.

June Kuramoto: It was almost 80% was the African-American community. Number one, I felt they immediately felt the soul of the music, and they know and feel the struggle, and they understood searching for identity and immediately open arm embraced us and made us feel comfortable. It was the CETA program, Brockman Gallery in the late 60s, early 70s, they asked the band to be part of that. And we got to travel throughout our neighborhood, right? Where I grew up, which was predominantly black and got to play with them, play in their community, our community and the schools. And we played Watts Towers and Limerick Parks and totally open and sat down and grooved with us and embraced us with open arms.

Jo Reed: While traditional Koto players were far and few between in the US at that time, musicians who were extending the reach of the instrument were rarer still but June was determined to find them.

June Kuramoto: I always felt there was people who's been doing this for years that never got recognized. And I was constantly in search of them because I didn't know what I was doing. Right? And you wanted some kind of… someone to talk to. And the amazing amazing story is that I found Dorothy Ashby. She was an incredible harpist, and she was a classical harpist, but turned jazz. And she's the one who played on all the R&B songs back in the 60s. But she had inherited a Koto and she did an album called Wax and Wane, I believe. Incredible. And I had the greatest fortune of meeting her in the 60s, late 60s. And she had showed me her Koto, and we talked about it. And she had traditionally tuned the Koto to a pentatonic scale and had made a recording on it and sang. Also in the early 70s, Pharoah Sanders at the lighthouse had a Koto with him, and he played it. He tuned it in a different, if traditionally I could say he tuned it backwards. And Dan goes, "That's wrong." And I go, "No, there's no such thing as right or wrong. Right? It's what's preference." And it was amazing what he did. And actually it created a whole different sound because he heard it differently. And that's the beauty of it. I responded to the koto because of my love for it, my connection to Japan, but in other people responding in their own way, it's magic. It's magic. And so that's my introduction to trying to find other people. But then it was untraditional, but that also supported to be more open.

Jo Reed: Hiroshima’s first album in 1979—also titled Hiroshima—was a breakthrough. It sold more than 100,000 copies in its first three months But it was an adjustment for the band to move from performing and jamming to acquiring the skill set needed to record in a professional studio with all its constraints.

June Kuramoto: We were shocked and we were panicked when we went in to do our first recording. It was that Ocean Way. It's a beautiful studio. We couldn't have had it any better in. In that way we were very fortunate, Wayne Henderson, the trombone player, he's the one who showcased us to the various record companies. So he was our first producer, but he was also busy with his own Jazz Crusaders, so he didn't show up at many of our sessions. So here we are at a 32 track studio and duh, what do we do? But luckily Ocean Way had Allen Sides, the great engineer and owner. He helped Dan. We spent hours picking microphones for the drums, for everything. Right? And especially the Koto. I think I got exhausted every session because we spent 12 hours trying different microphones before he even recorded. Because nobody had recorded Kotos as well, right? And then with the band, with drums and bass and all this. So it was a whole new thing, but poor Dan learned to become an engineer and a producer at the same time. Okay, how do we do this? How do we put a track together? Do we all play live? Do we overdub? All this, right? And back then, when we used to mix, it used to be the two-inch tapes, so it's not digital. So if somebody sped up or slowed down, we would cut and slice the tapes to move up the tracks, things like that. Those days we would 30 hours mixing and go home and sleep for three hours and then come back and because you had deadlines. It was a very frightening experience, but it was very rewarding and we learned. But I think in hindsight, poor Dan had the brunt of it, and he had to step up. And I'm sure he aged 10 years. But we had a great hit.
(Music Up)
Jo Reed: Hiroshima was hardly a one-hit wonder. The band's second album Odori had the song "Winds of Change", which received a Grammy Award nomination for Best R&B Instrumental. Hiroshima got its first gold album in 1985 with Another Place and the second with Go in ’87. The album Legacy was nominated for a Grammy Award in 2010 for Best Pop Instrumental Album. With some 20 albums, Hiroshima has sold over 4 million records around the world. And through this remarkable run, June has also continued an individual career. But though she has had many memorable collaborations, she refuses to name any favorites.

June Kuramoto: I don't think you could really say. I mean, for different categories, there's different people, right? For the album, for the songs, even for engineer mixing, we've had so many people help and contribute. there's been up and downs and blood, sweat and tears, but overall, we've met so many beautiful people so that each one is a gem. So how do you pick diamonds, rubies from emeralds?

Jo Reed: As well as being a world-class player, June also composes for the koto and her compositions literally embody a hands-on approach to playing.

June Kuramoto: Composing, I think playing any instrument, it's really probably that every musician, what you want to find hopefully is your own sound, and which would be your own touch. And I think for me, when I started composing for the Koto myself, I'm a very simplistic person. And so my melodies are very simple. But that's why my compositions came mostly from my pizzicato sound rather than the plectrum sound of the pick. So when I compose, it's mostly pizzicato. And I think that creates a sound and a vibration that the harsh pick does not. Also when you touch the strings directly, you're more connected because I'm directly touching the string.

Jo Reed: Throughout her long musical career, June always found time to teach the next generation of koto players as well as leading a group of senior citizen kotoists and conducting classes for children at LA’s Buddhist temples. And she firmly believes teaching is a two way street.

June Kuramoto: I think I learned more from teaching than my students do, because every time I teach my student, you go back to fundamentals, which only improves me. Because basically the longer I played, I got away from fundamentals. And but when I taught, it brought me back to fundamentals. And that was the key thing that kept me grounded. So, give the students the foundation, because that's what gave me the courage and the confidence to continue when I was criticized for venturing out to find myself and my place in music. So if you have the fundamentals, at least I had the confidence to take the criticism. But at the same time, try to keep open-minded to be creative because every person needs to find their own voice and it should not be a clone of mine. I also learned you can't teach passion, you can't teach a child to learn an instrument if they don't like it, if they don't want to. Spend the energy finding something that they have a passion for, that they love, and invest in that.

Jo Reed: Even though June Kuramoto has been playing as a soloist and as a member of Hiroshima for over five decades, she still has a hard time believing that she realized her vision for bringing the Koto into jazz and other contemporary genres.

June Kuramoto: I'm still in denial. I am so grateful that I was able to pursue my dream even to here. And I can't imagine what more it could be and how much more the Koto could expand. If I start thinking about it, I will start crying because of being so overjoyed and so grateful to all the people who have accepted this, who have open-armly received it. Because I could only do so much, but the people had to receive it as well. The reception has made me more joyous. I feel grateful that they accepted it, that what I've done is good, or has helped or has meant something or they loved it. And that I cannot ever thank enough, and I'm forever indebted and grateful.

Jo Reed: June has been recognized with many awards both as an individual and as a co-founder of Hiroshima. The Smithsonian, U.S. Congress, State of California, and City and County of Los Angeles have honored her work and she has served twice as an artist-in-residence at the Japanese American Cultural and Community Center. And then in 2024, she was named a National Heritage Fellow—which is the nation's highest honor in folk and traditional arts. June and the other fellows received the award in Washington DC in September.

June Kuramoto: When I remembered the trip, I just fell in love with all the recipients. We all had this great connection. And here these are beautiful people who are keeping the traditions. And I always felt humbled because I sort of went out of the box, out of the tradition. And I felt, I am not worthy. I am just a little speck in this world, but I stand proud because they accepted me. NEA has given me this honor that opened up my eyes, but also other people around me to really appreciate the art, the koto. So I think a lot of people didn't realize what I was doing until now. Because NEA has accepted both the traditional side of me and the modern open exploration as well. Also at the same time, it has deepened my appreciation more than ever for the true depth of Koto music and the depth of that culture. It has really humbled me. This was my teacher's teaching: when I received my degrees in the traditional Koto studies, I felt I didn't deserve it. And she said, "June, you live up to it." So she says, "Many people do not.” So my hope is to live up to the NEA fellowship, to give back and be more appreciative. And I hope I can live up to it.

Jo Reed: That was 2024 NEA Heritage Fellow koto musician June Kuramoto. We have a video of June speaking and playing the koto on her page on our website at arts.gov. We’ll have a link in our show notes.
You’ve been listening to Art Works produced at the National Endowment for the Arts. Follow us wherever you get your podcasts and leave us a rating! For the National Endowment for the Arts, I’m Josephine Reed. Thanks for listening.