Interview with George Shearing January 21, 1995

By Tim Clausen

One of the truly legendary pianists on the jazz scene, George Shearing needs no formal introduction. After coming to the United States from England he worked along with Erroll [Garner] on 52nd Street in New York City during the areas' creative heyday, and offers here some reminiscences and reflections on the great Garner.

I would kid my audience by saying that Erroll and I were always being mistaken for each other, which is so ludicrous really because he was much shorter than I. But I love Erroll.

I think the best compliment that I can pay him, and I'll explain it so that you'd know that it's a compliment; he's probably the most unpianistic of all pianists because he does things on piano that are really supposed to be played by an orchestra. Rather than the fingers just cascading up and down the piano, there are these big chords which he uses as kind of a "sbout," just like a huge ensemble of brass and saxophones. And he'll use that for four or eight bar phrases followed by a four bar single note solo, with ever that steady four in the bar in the left hand. And regardless of how much his right hand lags behind the beat, that left hand is the time governor.

If you listen to Art Tatum, Teddy Wilson, Hank Jones, all of whom treat the piano very legitimately as a piano, you won't hear very much of that in Erroll's playing. He does use a lot of single note solos, but they are more than equaled by the "shout" thing that he uses after he's finished his solo. He will use this shout thing for about four bars and then play individual note solos for four bars. Along with the constant Freddy Green left hand, this is really the whole root of Erroll's playing.

Erroll was so spontaneous in his playing that sometimes it would hamper him to have an orchestra behind him, because he may not necessarily remember what chord he'd been playing when the orchestrations were made or may not care to remember even. If we were describing it verbally he probably would be saying, "What I'm saying today has no bearing on what I said last week." Sometimes an orchestration behind him would be like fetters around his neck, because this would potentially limit the full degree of spontaneity that Erroll may have. He ran into this several times, and I, for one, would never comment on this as a minus factor, but merely as an observation.

I believe Erroll Garner has, by far, the best instrumental recording of my tune "Lullaby of Birdland." I think he has the best one on it. And I'm fortunate enough to have Concert by the Sea on CD, and it's a masterpiece. Good grief!

He preferred to remain his good old free self, and as I say, it's not a critical comment. It is a comment of a different approach in that any time any orchestration is put behind somebody who craves that degree of freedom relentlessly, sometimes it's better that orchestration not be employed then, and keep the fetters away from him.

I recorded "Misty" on one of my albums with strings. At the end I play (sings) blee, blee, bee dod, buh bur buh, bur bur bur, dee dee dee dee ... the way Erroll does. I love that feel; it takes a certain synchronization. The golden rule is "Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing."

I first heard Erroll Garner on record in about 1945 or '46, and my thoughts about him have never changed from what they were when I first heard him. "This is an astoundingly original style!" I mean, really, one of a kind. Erroll had that very personalized and highly original approach; the most un-pianistic of all the jazz pianists in that he treated the piano as an orchestra, and it was marvelous. There's never been one like him, and I don't think there ever will be.

I first met Erroll in the 3 Deuces on 52nd Street. I played opposite him for a long time there. I think I must have been the luckiest man in the world, not only to come to America, but also to be fortunate enough to serve one of the toughest apprenticeships anybody could wish to have, not the least of which were the months of appearing opposite the Erroll Garner Trio, which was no less a force than Erroll on piano, Oscar Pettiford on bass and J. C. Heard on drums. I mean those people would march you into bad health; it was just ridiculous what they did.

I think the best estimation of anyone's talent is, first of all, its originality, which Erroll had in spades. Secondly, the musical and technical ability to carry out that originality to the nth degree, which he had in spades. He was not talented in the way of being able to play everybody else off the stage by playing their style and then some. Nobody can play the way Erroll Garner did and I don't think anyone ever will. I try to get close, and I received a nice compliment from Martha Glaser in that she feels that I'm probably the closest. But that's good enough for me because that's all I want to do: be as close as I can when I'm representing him. He's one to be reckoned with and always will be, and we miss him very much.