Fletcher: I don't know if you heard. I'm not at Shaffer anymore.
Andrew: Yeah, I did hear that. Did you quit?
Fletcher: Not exactly. Some parents got a kid from Sean Casey's year, I think, to say some things about me. Although why anybody would have anything other than peaches and cream to say anything about me is a mystery. [Andrew chuckles] That's a good laugh, right?
Andrew: I'm sorry.
Fletcher: No, listen-- I get it. I know I made enemies. I'm conducting a little, though. They brought back the JVC Fest this year. They got me opening in a couple weeks with a pro band.
Andrew: That's great.
Fletcher: Yeah. It's all right. Truth is, I don't think people understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn't there to conduct. Any ****ing moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is... an absolute necessity. Otherwise, we're depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong. The next Charlie Parker. I told you that story about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?
Andrew: Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
Fletcher: Exactly. Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax. Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he ****s it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind: never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best mother****ing solo the world has ever heard. So imagine if Jones had just said, "Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job." And then Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, shit, I did do a pretty good job." End of story. No Bird. That, to me, is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying. I tell you, man, and every Starbucks "jazz" album just proves my point, really - there are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job".
Andrew: [pause] But is there a line? You know, maybe you go too far, and you discourage the next Charlie Parker from ever becoming Charlie Parker?
Fletcher: No, man, no. Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.
Andrew: Yeah.
Fletcher: The truth is, Andrew, I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually ****ing tried, and that's more than most people ever do. And I will never apologize for how I tried.
Andrew: Yeah, I did hear that. Did you quit?
Fletcher: Not exactly. Some parents got a kid from Sean Casey's year, I think, to say some things about me. Although why anybody would have anything other than peaches and cream to say anything about me is a mystery. [Andrew chuckles] That's a good laugh, right?
Andrew: I'm sorry.
Fletcher: No, listen-- I get it. I know I made enemies. I'm conducting a little, though. They brought back the JVC Fest this year. They got me opening in a couple weeks with a pro band.
Andrew: That's great.
Fletcher: Yeah. It's all right. Truth is, I don't think people understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn't there to conduct. Any ****ing moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is... an absolute necessity. Otherwise, we're depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong. The next Charlie Parker. I told you that story about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?
Andrew: Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
Fletcher: Exactly. Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax. Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he ****s it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind: never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best mother****ing solo the world has ever heard. So imagine if Jones had just said, "Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job." And then Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, shit, I did do a pretty good job." End of story. No Bird. That, to me, is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying. I tell you, man, and every Starbucks "jazz" album just proves my point, really - there are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job".
Andrew: [pause] But is there a line? You know, maybe you go too far, and you discourage the next Charlie Parker from ever becoming Charlie Parker?
Fletcher: No, man, no. Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.
Andrew: Yeah.
Fletcher: The truth is, Andrew, I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually ****ing tried, and that's more than most people ever do. And I will never apologize for how I tried.
Fletcher : I don't know if you heard. I'm not at Shaffer anymore.
Andrew : Yeah, I did hear that. Did you quit?
Fletcher : Not exactly. Some parents got a kid from Sean Casey's year, I think, to say some things about me. Although why anybody would have anything other than peaches and cream to say anything about me is a mystery. [Andrew chuckles] That's a good laugh, right?
Andrew : I'm sorry.
Fletcher : No, listen-- I get it. I know I made enemies. I'm conducting a little, though. They brought back the JVC Fest this year. They got me opening in a couple weeks with a pro band.
Andrew : That's great.
Fletcher : Yeah. It's all right. Truth is, I don't think people understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn't there to conduct. Any ****ing moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is... an absolute necessity. Otherwise, we're depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong. The next Charlie Parker. I told you that story about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?
Andrew : Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
Fletcher : Exactly. Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax. Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he ****s it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind: never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best mother****ing solo the world has ever heard. So imagine if Jones had just said, "Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job." And then Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, shit, I did do a pretty good job." End of story. No Bird. That, to me, is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying. I tell you, man, and every Starbucks "jazz" album just proves my point, really - there are no two words in the English language more harmful than "good job".
Andrew : [pause] But is there a line? You know, maybe you go too far, and you discourage the next Charlie Parker from ever becoming Charlie Parker?
Fletcher : No, man, no. Because the next Charlie Parker would never be discouraged.
Andrew : Yeah.
Fletcher : The truth is, Andrew, I never really had a Charlie Parker. But I tried. I actually ****ing tried, and that's more than most people ever do. And I will never apologize for how I tried.
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