A Tribute to Curtis Fowlkes By Roy Nathanson
Curtis Fowlkes, who recently departed this life, was a helluva trombone player. The best, really. Walk onstage at any of these venues. Ask any musician who’s heard or played with him. They’ll tell you. Soulful, articulate, hilarious. Crazy in tune in every sense of the word. And that sound! Primed to leap up and grab you or caress those parts of your heart you weren’t sure you had. And oh yeah, could he sing! Purr is more like it. That voice just flowed so effortlessly. Like out of his horn. It was all one voice, really. Completely in control of what it wanted to say without ever being fussy or full of itself. The kind of impossible alchemy that is reportedly channeled only through the heart. His depth of commitment to sound, Curt’s harmonic knowledge, his instinctive connection to the blues. Those were his building blocks and Curt was some architect. He could build a melodic idea out of one note, from a choice rhythmic idea, from one blues lick, one perfect mistake. And of course, Curt was also a consummate listener. He’d listen to what was being played, then just make it sound better. Or he’d listen to what you said and he’d make it funnier. Trust me, there’s a reason why anyone who met or played with Curt always felt listened to or cared about in a very particular way.
And yeah, Curt was Brooklyn. Brooklyn for sure. He was born in Bed-Stuy in 1950. I was born in Flatbush a year later, 1951. Turns out, we’d played together in the 1964 All-Brooklyn Junior High School Band at Lefferts Junior High School but we didn’t actually meet. That is, not until I finally actually sat next to him, above the elephants, in the Big Apple Circus Band in 1981 where he saved my ass from getting fired. You see, unlike me, Curt was such a fantastic music reader. So he played my parts for me, quietly in rehearsal, so I could hear what the hell they sounded like before I had to play ’em!
Curt had made his way to the Big Apple Circus via Tilden High School, reggae and calypso bands, jazz studies at the Brooklyn Muse, the Jazzmobile program, and a stint in the late 70s CETA band (a rare 70s government program created to support brilliant, underemployed jazz musicians of our city). Curt came out of the rich, early 70s central Brooklyn world of talented, hungry, curious young musicians like Alex Blake, Sam Furnace, Jimmy Cozier, Vernon Reid and Charles Dougherty. And by the time Curt got to the Circus, he'd played the music of practically every ethnic subculture in this city but the ground floor of his education was always jazz.
Anyway, I got so crazy close to Curt in the Circus that in 1984, when I joined John Lurie’s Lounge Lizards, I dragged him in with me. A few years later, Curt and I decided to start The Jazz Passengers. We figured that, since we loved the same dumb jokes, the same serious jazz, the same R&B, and the same glorious Brooklyn, that that was enough of a reason to start our own band. Originally the Passengers was comprised of me, Curt, Bill Ware, Brad Jones, E.J. Rodriguez, Marc Ribot, and Jim Nolet. In time, Marc and Jim left and we added Sam Bardfeld. Over the years we’ve toured and recorded with special guests like Debbie Harry, Elvis Costello, Jimmy Scott and Mavis Staples.
In the meantime, everyone wanted Curt’s remarkable sound and musicality, so from the mid-80s on, Curt also recorded and toured with an incredible list of musicians: Henry Threadgill, Bill Frisell, Glen Hansard, Charlie Haden, Steven Bernstein, Charlie Hunter, Marc Ribot, Don Byron, Louis Bellson and many others. There are plenty of recorded opportunities to immerse yourself in Curtis’ magical sound.
Curtis is survived by his wonderful son Saadiah and remarkable daughter Elisheba and her beautiful kids Waris, Yasheera, and Bilal.
Oh, and I suggest you make it your extra special mission to search out Curt’s one solo record, Reflect, that he made with his band Catfish Corner. You’ll be seriously happy you did.