Saxophonist Woods a Pitch Above the Old Misconceptions of American Jazz

Phil Woods, one of the premier soloists in jazz, is a straight shooter. Ask the alto saxophonist a question and you get a candid, unflinching response.

For example, what’s the state of jazz today in the United States?

“There’s a lot of real jazz happening. Yet as far as recognition, jazz is America’s bastard stepchild. If I had to depend on U. S. audiences to survive, I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Or, is there still prejudice in jazz today?

“Many of the people who hire believe white cats can’t play jazz, and it’s just not true,” says the 59-year-old musician, who brings his quintet to the Catalina Bar & Grill in Hollywood on Tuesday through Sept. 15. “Granted, it’s in the majority a black art form, it was invented by African-Americans; but to say that nobody else can do it is like saying that only the French can paint in the Impressionist style because they invented it.”

Although Woods speaks in a gruff, vibrant voice and has a matter-of-fact manner, he’s hardly one-dimensional. His discourse reveals a complexity of human emotions--anger, humor, disappointment, happiness. Through it all runs a current of understanding.

“If I start moaning, it’s because even though I am delighted to be making my living as a jazz musician, I am trying to make the world a little better,” he says, his voice softening as he speaks by phone from his home in Delaware Water Gap, Pa. “Reality sometimes comes across as complaining, but when you explore all the possibilities of what should be, you do a lot of mental gymnastics. You gotta try to figure the stuff out.”

Woods’ speaking manner mirrors his magnetic style on the alto saxophone, his primary instrument throughout a career spanning more than 35 years (he also plays clarinet). His sound is robust, lively and replete with feeling, and he balances his improvisations. He mixes slow, deliberate, often passion-drenched statements with rapid passages in which he delivers bursts of notes that never meander but instead seem to follow a preconceived line of thought.

A native of Springfield, Mass., and a 1952 graduate of the Juilliard School as a clarinet major with a minor in composition, Woods has been a pre-eminent jazzman almost since he arrived on the New York jazz scene in 1955. After working with pianist George Wallington and trumpeters Donald Byrd and Kenny Dorham, he toured the Middle East with Dizzy Gillespie in 1957 and traveled to the Soviet Union with Benny Goodman in 1962. Leading his own bands since the mid-’60s, Woods, whose work bears the influences of Charlie Parker, Benny Carter and Cannonball Adderly, has long been regarded as a complete artist--one of the finest jazz improvisers extant and someone who can read any written music.

“At the risk of being immodest, I can look at my body of work and say I have made a contribution,” says Woods, who has appeared as a sideman on hundreds of albums and has more than 40 titles of his own. His most recent collections are “All Bird’s Children” on Concord Jazz Records and “Real Life” on Chesky Records.

“Yet there is more work to be done and I look forward to finishing it.”

When not performing--Woods estimates that he works 35 weeks a year--the indefatigable saxophonist spends a good deal of his time at home writing music. He composes a wide array of pieces, from new tunes for his quintet, which will make a live recording during its stint at Catalina Bar, to brass quintets--his current project.

Woods writes at the computer, not with pencil and paper. “My notation is sloppy, I can never find all my sketches. So with a computer, I can find everything, I can easily go back and rework something,” he says. The computer can replay what he has been working on, “and if I want to hear something, I simply press a button. I really can’t hear what a piece sounds like until the musicians are together, so it’s a great asset to be able to check something instantly. I get a lot more work done.”

These days, Woods’ group--pianist Jim McNeely, trombonist Hal Crook, bassist Steve Gilmore and drummer Bill Goodwin--plays original music written almost exclusively by band members, particularly Woods and McNeely.

“Our material is constantly changing. We play a tune for a year or two and then it goes on injured reserve,” he says with a quip. “I think it’s vitally important to have new music. Jazz has a limited audience, so probably some of the same people come to hear us again and again, so we’ve got to give them something different.

“We chew up a lot of music,” he adds with a laugh.

Asked if he feels that he’s working enough, Woods--who after five years in Europe lived in the San Fernando Valley for eight months in 1972 before moving to the Pocono Mountains--is typically direct.

“Almost enough, but not as much as we’d like. I’d like to have more than I can handle but I don’t,” he says. “I’d like to see more concert and festival action. We’re still doing mostly clubs.”

Woods refuses to let the situation depress him. “I’m having too much fun to be brought down by it,” he says. “If I wanted to go out as a single, I could be busy all the time.”

Does Woods wonder whether his style, or mainstream jazz in general, is difficult for the listener to decipher and appreciate?

“Hey, man, I’m going to be 60 in a couple of months. I can’t clutter my mind with thoughts like that,” he says.

When the musician recorded a solo on Billy Joel’s 1977 hit, “Just the Way You Are,” he thought that fame and fortune might follow.

“It didn’t,” he says.

He has received calls about other pop projects, “but I haven’t been interested. It’s got to have some sort of musical appeal. I mean, I can’t turn into a prostitute at my age.”

Woods thinks that his lot, and the state of jazz overall, might improve if audiences were better informed about the art form.

“We must educate the public,” he says. “Perhaps programs” such as the ones at Lincoln Center in New York “might enlighten some people. The only danger is having the music become like a fossil. It’s gotta be abrasive. It shouldn’t be establishment music. It’s still an art form and I think we’re trying to sell it as a commodity, and I don’t think that’s the heart of jazz. It’s not mass, popular music. Still, a little respect wouldn’t hurt.”

Asked to assess his career, Woods says: “You know how happy I am to be playing jazz for a living, how lucky I am? I just want to keep going like Benny Carter. He’s my hero. He’s 84 and still playing wonderfully. You’re supposed to play well when you’re 20 or 30, but for 60 years? That’s a hell of an accomplishment. There’s so much to learn it’ll take me at least that long to catch up.”

Phil Woods,