Togetherness in the Lone Star State

Saxophonist Walter Smith III didn’t set out to make a love letter to his Texas roots when he began working on his latest album, three of us are from Houston and Reuben is not. But, as his title implies, three-fourths of his quartet—himself, pianist Jason Moran, and drummer Eric Harland—all got their start in Houston, where they all attended Kinder High School for the Performing and Visual Arts (HSPVA), a magnet school that claims many jazz stars as alumni. (Bassist Reuben Rogers is the exception, hailing from the Virgin Islands). Houston has long been a hothouse for jazz, from the days of saxophonists Illinois Jacquet and Arnett Cobb to, more recently, pianists Robert Glasper and Helen Sung, and drummers Kendrick Scott and Chris Dave.  

Since moving to New York in the 1990s, both Moran and Harland have grown to be among the most influential and versatile artists in jazz, honing a deep rapport together under leaders including saxophonist Charles Lloyd, with whom they play alongside Rogers. Considering their relentless touring schedules, these three musicians rarely get time to talk together offstage. For this conversation, via Zoom, Moran joined from Chicago while on tour, Smith from his home in Boston, and Harland from London, where he was called away partway through for a soundcheck. They revisited formative memories of their hometown, reflecting on a shared sense of community, especially at HSPVA. 

Walter Smith III: Jason and Eric—you’re always people that I want to play with, but you’re not always available. I think for everybody, at least for my age group and younger, you guys were the people that we always modeled our stuff after—the two of you and Chris Dave. We wanted anything you played on, anything you talked about; that was what inspired us. 

Eric Harland: Really? 

Jason Moran: Eric, what did you think when we were in school? 

Harland: The community had already started, the musicality and the friendship. Everybody was evolving and growing. I remember seeing Walter and Kendrick and Glasper, [bassist] Mark Kelley and [guitarist Mike] Moreno, y’all playing at Cezanne and I was like, “Woo,” you know—just felt like a proud big bro, because y’all was dealing. Me and Jason were up in New York doing our thing by then, but the community never stopped, no matter how far apart we were. You brought up Chris Dave. I remember when Chris left, went up to Howard and started playing in Mint Condition. He always came back and gave me encouragement, like a big brother. We all found a way to keep each other engaged in the music and to not be slacking on what you’re doing. I think that was a huge thing. 

Moran: When we were in school, Eric, I used to wonder: Well, what was Houston’s sound? Because at that time, in the early ’90s, a lot was really about New Orleans, Wynton and Branford, and what they were up to. But in Houston, I didn’t know if we had a sound, you know what I mean? I knew there was a Texas tenor thing, and we knew about Joe Sample and the Crusaders, right?  

I would say one thing was clear for me is when people who were leaving PVA were not moving to New York. I was like, why? What’s happening? DC is cool. Howard [University] is amazing, and Berklee [College of Music] is cool in Boston. But isn’t New York the reason? I wanted to get to New York. I was scared to go there but once I got there, I realized that the scene, at least at Manhattan School of Music, wasn’t nearly as accomplished as the kids I was playing with at PVA. What did Outkast say on the Source Awards? “The South got something to say.” Cats from Houston were about to come up here and say some stuff on the stage. I just couldn’t wait for cats to come up to the city. It felt like we were ready. 

And the teachers we had, like “Doc” Morgan [HSPVA’s director of jazz studies from 1976-99]! He was a great band director because he invited great musicians to come talk to us. Eric, remember when we played for McCoy Tyner, and what that felt like? 

Harland: Yes, sir! 

Moran: Walter, who came through when you were at PVA? 

Smith: Roy Hargrove came, and Kenny Barron came, and Mark Whitfield… 

Harland: I had Milt Hinton; yeah, that was great. 

Moran: Billy Harper came. Dizzy Gillespie came. Barry Harris came, Marcus Roberts came, Billy Cobham, Ellis Marsalis. It seemed like almost once a month there were cats in the school. 

Harland: Wynton, man, he did the master class. We played for him. All I was doing was playing the ride cymbals during the whole master class. But he didn’t want much more except to swing. That just kind of opened the door. He was like, “Man, I want you to hang out with me for the day.” I had to call my parents and be like, “Well, Marsalis wants me to hang out with the sextet.” I just remember [drummer] Herlin [Riley], because Wynton straight-up introduced me to him, and said, “Man, you gotta check this kid out.” And Herlin was like, “Oh yeah,” with the toothpick in this mouth. He pulled out a phone book, he pulled out some brushes, and he was like, “Aight, show me what you got.” I was like, brushes? Wait. I need sticks! He gave me a whole brush lesson just right there, backstage. Wynton wrote me a great recommendation, which got me into Manhattan School of Music, along with the audition. But like you said, “Doc” Morgan, having the vision for those people to be able to come through to the school, was a great influence. It not only introduced us to them but built relationships going forward. I can call Branford or Wynton anytime. I couldn’t imagine that when we were at PVA.  

I had an uncle who everybody knows, Leo Polk. He ran a session at this club. It wasn’t really like a jazz session, it was just kind of his own thing. I was too young to get in but because he was my uncle, I was able to play there.  

I also grew up in the church. Me, Mark Simmons, Chris Dave… A lot of the drummers that you hear from Houston, we had the whole gospel music thing. We played for the Gospel Music Workshop of America with James Cleveland. That started a whole another tradition within gospel drumming that just wasn’t there before. So, there were a lot of influences on both sides, and we were able to bring that more into the jazz community, even though we didn’t know as much about jazz then. But we knew about church—how to play in church, how to listen to a choir and follow the choir director, from the drum perspective.  

Smith: Yeah, I played a lot of church gigs, all on soprano. My dad was a saxophone player from New Orleans. He went to Southern University and studied with Kidd Jordan. When he moved to Houston he became a band director, and he would take me around to see people. I went to see Leo Polk, and I used to get in there and play with him. My saxophone teacher was a guy named Conrad Johnson who had a legendary stage band at  

Kashmere High School in Houston. I used to study with him every week. My favorite saxophone player in town was David Caceres and from an early age, anytime I would find out he was playing somewhere, my parents would take me to see him play. Nobody could drive, so our parents had to take us. When we started driving, interestingly enough, we went to less shows but bought more CDs, and we would go to each other’s houses and listen to stuff. 

Mike Moreno had a thousand CDs, and we were trying to borrow stuff and listen to all of it. When Eric and Jason would come back to Houston, we became obsessed with trying to find out who was playing in New York that wasn’t famous. We started buying any Criss Cross record we could find, just looking at all the names on them and trying to figure out who these people were. In Houston, we had so many cats that were playing around town, like [drummer] Sebastian Whittaker and the Creators. Getting called to sub in bands with some of these guys and getting to meet them and play with them—for me, it felt like these are the best musicians in the world, because all this other stuff was very abstract to me.  

Moran: I’m glad you bring those names up, especially Conrad Johnson. Those Kashmere Stage Band records are now worth hundreds of dollars, they’re collector’s items. My dad had them, and I remember listening to those in high school. I was like, “God damn! They sound like a professional funk band in the ’70s, but it’s a high school crew.” Conrad Johnson had a Summer Jazz Workshop, which was a thing I remember doing when I was in eighth and ninth grade. When I got to PVA as a 10th grader, I didn’t even know what chords were. I felt like the students were the ones that pushed me.  

It was important to be playing out in the city, because the city wouldn’t ask for your abstract music all the time. They may want a little bit more funk on it, or they may want a little bit more backbeat, a little bit more gospel, a little more blues.  

Walter, you said this thing about looking for people who weren’t necessarily famous. I think that kind of became a Houston thing, that it didn’t need to be in the center. It could flirt with the edge a bit more, and not in a crazy way. I didn’t play in church. Every Monday kids would talk about all the stuff that happened at church on Mondays. My church was so boring—boring music with a boring sermon—so I didn’t really have that experience that Eric and Walter have been talking about. 

Smith: The fact that Eric played in church brought a certain aesthetic to it—sound, energy, all that kind of stuff—and the same with piano players. It’s not that they’re bringing a gospel thing, it’s just how they play, right? It’s the same when you hear a saxophone player that checked out Charlie Parker. We can say that they play a certain style but really, it’s just part of how they hear music.  

Moran: If I pull back for a second, the school pushed us into the professional world really fast. They sent us out into the city playing shows. When I was there, we made a record in the studio, and we were asked to represent. You couldn’t act a fool out there playing these shows across the city because you were being paid like you’re a professional band. It meant you had to dress a certain way, you had to know certain songs, and you had to not act foolish in between sets. Most of my friends who were making money playing music in high school were making it in church. But then we started making that money playing the music we played. That was confirming something. It meant that there was always an audience, but it wasn’t necessarily happening in the jazz club. It could have been a reception at the VA, or a bus company was having a morning reception, and you were there at 8 a.m. playing some jazz for an hour and a half. That meant that there was an economy around the music, and for me that was important to understand. It also gave us a sense of agency as kids who didn’t necessarily have summer jobs. And it said that you could earn a living playing music.  

When I got to New York. I couldn’t really get gigs because I was still trying to practice. When Eric arrived, it was clear that he was on a whole other level. Eric was the first one to really break all the way through. He started playing with McCoy [Tyner], he started playing with [saxophonist] Greg Osby, he started making records, he started having thousands of dollars in his dorm room. He was working, and he sounded great, and people heard it right off the bat. That was kind of inspiring.  

Smith: I was remembering the whole experience of being in combo and doing those gigs, and how you say it prepared us for the professional thing. Doc would come in and give us these sheets. They would list the venue, what was expected as far as the music, how many sets, and he would talk to us about all the details. He would teach us how to build a set, which is something I still fight against now. I went to Boston for school and when I got there, I already knew all this stuff that other people playing gigs didn’t. All these details that were just professionalism, pieces of the equation that we got being in high school in Houston, in addition to making the money, which was crucial at that time.   

Moran: There are kids still doing it right now in Houston. It’s a big part of how the school keeps its reputation. 

Smith: We’re talking about music, but all the arts were represented there. My best friends were in the visual art department. The only art I knew would be the Mona Lisa or something. To see people doing the same thing you’re doing with music, creating new stuff but in a visual form, or in dance or theater… people writing plays. Even if someone didn’t continue with the arts for a career, during that time everybody was engaged with the arts. A bunch of artists in a small school, it was a very cool community to be around. 

Moran: And that continues today. While we were at the [Village] Vanguard [jazz club in New York City], I can’t tell you how many people I didn’t know came up to me and said, “Yeah, we went to PVA!” It’s a wide umbrella that you become a part of. I remember my first day at HSPVA. I was like, “Who are these weird motherfuckers here? I don’t know about these kids.” And then I became one of those kids. What about you, Walter? 

Smith: The first person I met was Kendrick [Scott] at the ice cream social. We were just both looking in the window at the jazz room, getting to meet people and know them. I learned a lot about differences in how people are brought up and how people lived, getting to know people that aren’t just like you—broadening my horizons in terms of people and what they were into, how they lived. It was an eye-opening experience for me. 

Moran: At my previous high school, I didn’t feel like people were free to be. Houston is a very traditional city—racism is traditional in Houston, not integrating is traditional in Houston, and they want to keep that stuff intact—so to walk into a school like PVA, where all that was blurred, that felt different from Houston as a city. I think that’s what you’re speaking to, Walter. I was so thankful to have years to work in the school, and to be in that neighborhood all the time, so that you could get over the crazy things that maybe your parents or your family might be saying about people. This is where the world is, and especially where the creative world is. We have to wrestle with these things. When I say it felt weird to me, it was just because it was culture shock in the best way. People should feel culture shock more frequently. 

Smith: Everybody in Houston knew each other through the summer jazz workshop you touched on earlier, and all the best musicians in town also had teaching gigs. That still continues, to this day. Going back to Houston to play the DACAMERA series, every now I’ll make it over to the new HSPVA building, which is downtown, and get to talk to students there. You always hear about these guys—they go to New York, or they go to Boston. A name will be in your in your ear, and then you meet them at the Blue Note or somewhere, and then you know that they’ve arrived, and you look out for them if you can. 

Moran: That last part you said—we look out for one another. When you called us for this record—which is always an extreme honor—it reminded me that, if you went back through my records—my Fats Waller record, for instance—you’d see that the musicians on there, Lisa E. Harris and Leron Thomas went to PVA. You would see that we’re always tying each other into our work to make sure that the community is keeping in touch with one another and trying to enable the future of it, too. I think because we all had to leave the city, we knew that the scene could get stronger if we shared it rather than if we feel like we’re trying to dominate it. Maybe that’s also part of the Houston thing. For us, going from Houston to New York is a very long way and if you go that far, you’re going to need a community with you. You cannot do this stuff alone, and the music itself is so broad that you want people who at least know where you’re coming from—so you know what my slang is, and then we can play that way together. You’ve got to exhibit that you still want to play with people after 35 years of knowing them. I’ve known Eric since I was 14. It means a lot, and when people came to the Vanguard to hear us play, they’re like, “Yo man, y’all like a family up there.”  

Just to point further back, we’re so thankful for a group like the Crusaders and for Joe Sample, who has such an attitude at the piano. And then going back to that tenor stuff with Illinois Jacquet and Arnett Cobb, and all this Texas sound that came out of Houston. Parts of that were said but never shouted to us; we felt it within, you know what I mean? When I talk to Rob [Glasper], it feels like the same thing as when I talk to James [Francies] or Helen Sung. I always say it’s in the slang for us, and it’s subtle. And I always want to acknowledge the Milt Larkin and Johnny Johnny “Guitar” Watson and the Lightnin’ Hopkins, and that rich, rich, music scene that comes from Houston. There’s one gripe I have, about Austin proclaiming itself to be the music capital. Are you kidding me? And it’s very Texan for them to say that. 

Smith: Well, I’d give it to Dallas before Austin.