Wayne Shorter: A sustained note in jazz

If fame were the offspring of talent in today’s music scene, Wayne Shorter would be a household name.

To jazz fans, the saxophonist and composer is royalty. A cursory glance at his resume explains why: Born in 1933, he played with Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers and Miles Davis’ second great quintet; was a founding member of the greatest among so-called fusion bands, Weather Report; enriched the music of several high-minded pop artists; and, in a third act worthy of his beloved Hollywood, now runs one of the genre’s best bands, which bears his name. He ranks with Duke Ellington and Thelonious Monk among the most important jazz composers of the 20th century.

Yet Shorter is an enigma, blessed not only with great gifts but with a dignified reserve. The man who emerges in “Footprints,” Michelle Mercer’s astute biography, is a reflection of his music: an enchanting, complex person of faith who triumphed through the potency of his will and love of his family and colleagues, with a childlike curiosity that craves intellectual adventure.

As Mercer tells it, Shorter seems a vessel for revelation; he examines and considers what he’s been shown until he finds a level of understanding that drives him to action. Achieving a perfect score on a high school music composition exam, for example, compelled him to ponder his future. After a night of contemplation, he tells Mercer, he concluded, “If music is coming to me like this, so brazenly, shouldn’t I do everything I can to meet it?”

Musicians were drawn to him: John Coltrane advised him; Lester Young picked him out of nightclub crowd and invited him to share a drink; and Bud Powell visited his hotel room in Paris and asked him to give an impromptu solo concert. Later, when Shorter told the Powell story to a French woman, she presented him with a package that years earlier had been given to her by a stranger who told her to pass it on to someone she thought deserved it. The stranger was Charlie Parker and the package contained a classical saxophone recording and music “Bird” had written by hand.

Shorter was a quiet child, a daydreamer and serious about his music. He played in the thriving jazz scene of his birthplace, Newark, N.J., and across the river in Manhattan, where he studied at New York University. He was always a bit of an oddball. “Weird as Wayne” was a popular expression in their Newark neighborhood, says poet Amiri Baraka. Shorter’s interest in superhero comics, his fervor for film -- he has seen “The Red Shoes” about 90 times -- and his offbeat way of speaking paint him as “determinedly eccentric.”

Shorter became integral to every group he joined. Blakey and Davis featured him as a soloist and composer. Shorter blossomed in Davis’ quintet, which, with bassist Ron Carter, drummer Tony Williams and pianist Herbie Hancock, is widely considered jazz’s best small combo ever. His playing, which at first owed much to Coltrane, became increasingly economical, saying no more than needed. “With Miles, I felt like a cello,” Shorter says. “I felt liquid, dot-dash and colors really started coming along.”

When Davis embraced electric jazz and funk, Shorter stayed. Davis also hired pianist Joe Zawinul, with whom Shorter formed Weather Report. Shorter’s willingness to pursue his muse across musical barriers led him to Brazil and Milton Nascimento, and to collaborations with Joni Mitchell and with Steely Dan, whose hit song “Aja” contains his just-perfect solos and may be his most recognizable performance.

Mercer’s tone is respectful to, and often amused by, Shorter’s idiosyncrasies. Her detail of his musical achievements will please devotees and casual fans, but her most significant contribution is her portrait of Shorter as husband, father and devout Buddhist. His daughter Iska died at a young age and his wife of 26 years was killed in the 1996 explosion of TWA Flight 800 off Long Island. Mercer is best when she explores how faith and a sense of destiny has helped him cope with tragedy. More academic overviews of Shorter’s career will be written, but it’s impossible to imagine a book that would give any better understanding of this enigmatic man.

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Jim Fusilli, a music critic for the Wall Street Journal and National Public Radio, is the author of “Hard, Hard City.”