Kevin Whitehead
π€ PersonAppearances Over Time
Podcast Appearances
Drummer Roy Haynes, what saxophonist Stan Getz in 1961. Haynes was on one of his several hot streaks in the early 60s, enlivening a few classic records with drum intros that grabbed your attention and sparked the action. Here's Roy Haynes kicking off a tune by Oliver Nelson. ΒΆΒΆ And one by pianist Andrew Hill. And one more, Eric Dolphy's G.W.
Behind the drums, Roy Haynes displayed power and intelligence. He was a quick and highly interactive listener who knew when to support a soloist and when to provoke them. He grew up in Boston, picking up the sticks around age seven, and started playing professionally before he even had a full drum set.
Behind the drums, Roy Haynes displayed power and intelligence. He was a quick and highly interactive listener who knew when to support a soloist and when to provoke them. He grew up in Boston, picking up the sticks around age seven, and started playing professionally before he even had a full drum set.
Behind the drums, Roy Haynes displayed power and intelligence. He was a quick and highly interactive listener who knew when to support a soloist and when to provoke them. He grew up in Boston, picking up the sticks around age seven, and started playing professionally before he even had a full drum set.
His parents were from Barbados, and a variety of Anglo and Latino Caribbean rhythms would inform his phrasing. On a 1951 Charlie Parker record date with a Latin flavor, Haynes on drum set seamlessly blends with Afro-Cuban conga and bongo players, then swings in straight jazz time on his own, moving easily from one groove to the other.
His parents were from Barbados, and a variety of Anglo and Latino Caribbean rhythms would inform his phrasing. On a 1951 Charlie Parker record date with a Latin flavor, Haynes on drum set seamlessly blends with Afro-Cuban conga and bongo players, then swings in straight jazz time on his own, moving easily from one groove to the other.
His parents were from Barbados, and a variety of Anglo and Latino Caribbean rhythms would inform his phrasing. On a 1951 Charlie Parker record date with a Latin flavor, Haynes on drum set seamlessly blends with Afro-Cuban conga and bongo players, then swings in straight jazz time on his own, moving easily from one groove to the other.
Roy Haynes had moved to New York as World War II ended, soaking up the music uptown and down. He landed a choice two-year gig with saxophonist Lester Young in 1947, and by the early 50s, leaders were vying for his services. Haynes left Miles Davis to join Charlie Parker. He did a season backing Ella Fitzgerald, then five years with the even more acrobatic singer Sarah Vaughan.
Roy Haynes had moved to New York as World War II ended, soaking up the music uptown and down. He landed a choice two-year gig with saxophonist Lester Young in 1947, and by the early 50s, leaders were vying for his services. Haynes left Miles Davis to join Charlie Parker. He did a season backing Ella Fitzgerald, then five years with the even more acrobatic singer Sarah Vaughan.
Roy Haynes had moved to New York as World War II ended, soaking up the music uptown and down. He landed a choice two-year gig with saxophonist Lester Young in 1947, and by the early 50s, leaders were vying for his services. Haynes left Miles Davis to join Charlie Parker. He did a season backing Ella Fitzgerald, then five years with the even more acrobatic singer Sarah Vaughan.
IDing the members of her trio on stage, Vaughn took to giving them an introduction fans would echo ever after.
IDing the members of her trio on stage, Vaughn took to giving them an introduction fans would echo ever after.
IDing the members of her trio on stage, Vaughn took to giving them an introduction fans would echo ever after.
Roy Haynes prided himself on his fluid beat. He wasn't one for practicing the rudimental exercises drum students learn early. Like other heavy swingers at the drums, he'd give two-beat patterns a triplet-y, three-beat feel for tumbling headlong momentum. Haynes could be crafty, playing behind Thelonious Monk live in 1958, sometimes matching the pianist's intransigence with a bit of his own.
Roy Haynes prided himself on his fluid beat. He wasn't one for practicing the rudimental exercises drum students learn early. Like other heavy swingers at the drums, he'd give two-beat patterns a triplet-y, three-beat feel for tumbling headlong momentum. Haynes could be crafty, playing behind Thelonious Monk live in 1958, sometimes matching the pianist's intransigence with a bit of his own.
Roy Haynes prided himself on his fluid beat. He wasn't one for practicing the rudimental exercises drum students learn early. Like other heavy swingers at the drums, he'd give two-beat patterns a triplet-y, three-beat feel for tumbling headlong momentum. Haynes could be crafty, playing behind Thelonious Monk live in 1958, sometimes matching the pianist's intransigence with a bit of his own.
In the early 60s, Roy Haynes subbed in John Coltrane's quartet when Elvin Jones was unavailable. A few years later, he connected with a young pianist whose father he'd known in Boston, Chick Corea. His trio album, Now He Sings, Now He Sobs, with Miroslav Vitos on bass, was an instant classic that had spawned a few sequels.
In the early 60s, Roy Haynes subbed in John Coltrane's quartet when Elvin Jones was unavailable. A few years later, he connected with a young pianist whose father he'd known in Boston, Chick Corea. His trio album, Now He Sings, Now He Sobs, with Miroslav Vitos on bass, was an instant classic that had spawned a few sequels.
In the early 60s, Roy Haynes subbed in John Coltrane's quartet when Elvin Jones was unavailable. A few years later, he connected with a young pianist whose father he'd known in Boston, Chick Corea. His trio album, Now He Sings, Now He Sobs, with Miroslav Vitos on bass, was an instant classic that had spawned a few sequels.
Check out Roy Haynes' creative work on cymbals, hi-hat, and snare drum on Matrix. He's a sleek, modern designer in sound. Roy Haynes at age 43, 1968. In the 70s, jazz got louder and he bashed a bit more, joking later that his sticks resembled baseball bats. By the 1990s, Roy Haynes was a widely respected jazz elder known for his unfailing good taste.