Sax man Brodie sacrifices for music he loves

by: Stephen Israel -Times Herald Record-

As a little boy in Newark, N.J., Hugh Brodie saw big black cars with signs advertising shows by Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Illinois Jacquet. When he walked into an ice cream parlor, he heard the swinging jazz of Charlie Parker, Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie. And at night, after he did his homework, he and his friends would go to the park, stand in a circle and, as the moon glowed, hum that jazz.

So when little Hugh Brodie walked past the music store, and saw what looked like hundreds of saxophones, he said, "Oh man, ain't they pretty. If I could only play like Bird (Charlie Parker), or Illinois..."

Brodie would grow up to play jazz with Illinois Jacquet - and other jazz greats. He would also grow up to discover what jazz is really about. He would learn that it isn't just about stars such as Mel Torme, Joe Williams or Herbie Hancock, who will be among the headliners starting tonight in the JVC Jazz Festival in New York City.

No, for Hugh Brodie of Bushville, who critic Nat Hentoff says, "swings with assurance," playing jazz is about sacrifice. It's about selling enough empty bottles, at two for a penny, to pay for lessons. It's about wearing a starched collar so sharp it would cut his neck - to earn money playing rock ‘n' roll. And it's about driving home from a New York City jazz gig in a blinding snowstorm and dealing with a car breakdown in 5-degree temperatures - just so he could be with his family. Yes, if you want to know what playing jazz is really about, you've got to know the musician Middletown drummer Joe Anello calls "undoubtedly the man."

Say it, Hugh: "For any person who's creative, things are rough. Here we have disposable music like rap. Three months and it's gone. I try to write music people will hear forever, with a melody that lingers." Then Brodie adds this lingering note: "And my music comes from the church and blues." Brodie first heard the blues when he walked the cows past the watermelon and sugar cane fields of his family's North Carolina farm. He saw his cousins working in the hot sun, singing "Rock me mama, rock me slow, rock me before I go.". . .

. . . .When Brodie listened to the jazz that blared from those cars and blasted from the clubs and ice cream parlors on the Newark streets, he heard the blues and felt the spirit. So after he'd returned enough bottles to pay for his $3 dollar lessons, Brodie started playing jazz. He got serious at Newark's exclusive Arts High School when he studied with a Mr. Eddie Babe, who taught him to play two notes at once. When he met an older saxophonist, Wayne Shorter, who would grow up to play a pivotal role with Miles Davis' group, Brodie couldn't believe his ears. "He played so fast, I thought the notes would fly off," he says.

So it figured Brodie would play that music after high school - on what he calls the chitlin' circuit. With a bluesy organ trio, he played smoky rooms where the jazz mingled with the sound of clinking of glasses. He also discovered the rigors of the road - often working joints in Atlantic City where his sets would run from 9 p.m. to 2 a.m. - and 3 a.m. to 8 a.m. "Just ruins your resistance," he says.

Brodie wanted to do more composing. He wanted to learn more about counterpoint and harmony. But he - and his family - had to eat. So he got a gig with Billy Ford and the Thunderbirds, opening for the Platters and other acts. He had to wear a bright green jacket and those sharp-as-a-knife starchy shirts. He also had to wiggle his hips and kick his legs to the beat. But when the 60s rolled in, and Brodie turned 30, he decided he really had to play jazz.

So he moved his family to Brooklyn, where the Town Hill and the Blue Coronet and other clubs featured such stars as Dinah Washington, Sonny Rollins and Miles Davis. He studied counterpoint. He recorded an album with Cal Massey, "Jazz Life." Critic Hentoff raved about Brodie, calling his playing "fiercely optimistic."

But those reviews didn't pay Brodie's bills. So he used his striking good looks and suave manner to land a few acting gigs, in the movies "Cotton Comes to Harlem" and "The Wiz." He also landed a lucrative steady gig playing show tunes at the Concord. He would play the Kiamesha Lake resort until 3 a.m., catch an hour's sleep, and drive to Manhattan for an 7 a.m. acting call - putting drops in his eyes to remove the red. To raise his two daughters, Hassina and Donna, Brodie decided to move to Sullivan County - and commute to those city gigs. So he'd play the Village Vanguard until 2 a.m., get in his two-cylinder car and drive home in a snowstorm, To keep awake, he'd stick his head out the window and freeze in the snow that was as white as his hair.

But he kept playing. In the mid-‘80s, he landed a gig with his hero, Jacquet, who had loved one of Brodie's albums. Not only was he playing with the man who recorded one of the classic solos in all of jazz on "Flying Home," but he also was making $800 per week. But he still wasn't playing his music - the music he heard in his head, the music that came from the spirit of the church and the sound those farm field blues. So after a few years with Jacquet - during which he again "burned the candle at both ends" commuting - he left Jacquet to concentrate on his own music.

Today, Brodie's album, "Unforgettable Sax," is big in Europe. He has music business deals cooking in Italy and England.