Paul Bley

Returning to New York with his first wife, composer and arranger Carla Bley, he became a central figure in the 1960s jazz revolution. Using one of the very first Moog synthesizers, he explored, with Annette Peacock, the areas between jazz, popular song, and sheer electronic sound. In the 1970s Bley toured North America, Europe, and Japan playing solo piano and leading trios with musicians such as Gary Peacock, Paul Motian, Dave Holland, and Barry Altschul. In 1974, Paul Bley and his wife Carol Goss formed their own record label, Improvising Artists, and recorded Sam Rivers, Sun Ra, and a young unknown guitarist named Pat Metheny.

Paul Bley continues to maintain a hectic pace of touring around the world and recording albums. When he is not touring, he lives with his wife, artist Carol Goss, and their family, in upstate New York.

Paul Bley on Synthesizers, Moog and Peacock

When improvisers left their previously acoustic domain and took up electricity, the intention in many cases was to make a literal translation of the acoustic music to electric. The inclusion of this new wealth of timbres produced an unexpected richness. Jaco Pastorius, who unlike bassist Stanley Clark, chose to ignore the difficulties of mastering the acoustic bass because he believed the sound of the electric bass to be equally as valid as that of the acoustic bass.

In my case, the change from piano to electric keyboards, including the first primitive synths was to lead to results that I could not have fully predicted. One has only to examine the evolution of the sound of the electric guitar to realize that the sound an instrument makes may forever change the future direction of the music to be made on that instrument.

In ensemble playing the thrill of loosing oneself in an electric universe where the players may not be able to tell who is doing what presented opportunities for real group integration. Unfortunately many of my peers chose to ride the wave of instant popularity and large audiences that this electric sound offered, completely ignoring the advances of free jazz.

In 1969, I did an interview for Downbeat Magazine. At the end of the interview, the writer casually asked what I thought about the new keyboard synthesizers. At this time, the keyboard had just been added to the synthesizer, so it was now perceived as being in my domain.

I said, "What's a keyboard synthesizer?"

He told me. Now I was interviewing him.

My next question was, "How do I get my hands on one?"

Bob Moog had just opened a factory in Trumansburg, New York, in the Finger Lakes district. I found out that there were only a few production models of the Moog synthesizer in existence, and that to get into that game you needed about twelve grand. But I decided I had to get this instrument.

When I phoned Trumansburg it sounded even more difficult. In fact, there was only one production model in the factory, and several pianists and their wives and children had emigrated to Trumansburg, just because Bob would let them play it at three o'clock on Thursdays.

I sat down and wrote a script about a luncheon date between Paul Bley and Robert Moog. Although I'd never met the man, at the beginning of this one-act play I said "Hello Bob," and he said "Hello Paul", and at the end I drove off with a Moog synthesizer.

I called him up and told him I would like to come to Trumansburg to see him. He'd heard of me, at least enough to say come on up.

I understood that the synthesizer was a miniaturization of an electronic music studio, where composers laboriously spliced together hundreds of pieces of recording tape to create an electronically conceived musical composition. I pointed out to Bob that in reducing this roomful of equipment down to the size of a coffee table and adding a keyboard, he had not made any allowances for real-time performance. And I put it to Bob that his company was doomed to failure unless he had the input of a performing musician.

Bob went for it, but said that since there was only one production model in existence, he would have to ship it to me later.

I said, "That's not necessary, Bob. I have my rented station wagon just outside the door and if you grab a corner of the synthesizer we can carry it outside right now."