Bill Evans' death
Peter
I recently read that Bill Evans' death was the result of him succumbing to
his drug addiction. Can anyone shed any light on this? How old was Evans
when he died?
Thanks
Peter
Keith Myath
> I recently read that Bill Evans' death was the result of him succumbing to
> his drug addiction.
(?????)
Where did you read that?
He was 51 (1929-1980).
The official version was that he died of pneumonia and complications with a gastric ulcer.
People close to him have said he kicked the habit years before, but then again.... who knows.
Keith
Jack Woker
He appears to have still had the monkey on his back at the end. People
I know witnessed him fixing between sets at a Harvard concert sometime
in the late 1970's. The gastric ulcer from which he died was
treatable. The story is that he was unwilling (like many junkies) to
seek treatment.
jack
Tom Holman
On Mon, 17 Feb 1997 09:37:17 -0800, corn...@unixg.ubc.ca (Peter)
wrote:
>I recently read that Bill Evans' death was the result of him succumbing to
>when he died?
>
>Thanks
>
>Peter
I may not have things right in this post, so anyone feel free to
correct me. I've enclosed a biography which USED to be on the Letter
from Evans web page, but isn't any more, perhaps because it's
inaccurate. I'm eagerly awaiting Gene Lee's biography of Evans, which
I heard about on that Letter from Evans web page. Anyway, from what
I've gathered from various sources, Evans died as a result of his body
being worn out from years of drug addiction, plus his unwillingness to
seek medical care (possibly because of fear of his addictions becoming
public knowledge, though they must have been rather public at least in
jazz circles). At the time of his death (9/15/80), he seems to have
been suffering from a bleeding ulcer and liver failure. He somehow was
making wonderful music. In 1979, his wife left him and took his son
with him, because of his newer addiction to cocaine, which Gene Lees
said in one of his books that he was shooting up. Also in 1979, Evans'
brother killed himself. Apparently, Evans more or less gave up on
himself. He seems to have deteriorated physically over the
June-September, 1980 months while touring and playing extensively, and
while his music was getting better than ever.
***********************************************************************
Now here's the bio that used to be on the Evans web page: again, I'd
be very happy to be corrected about inaccuracies.
***********************************************************************
BILL EVANS, A BRIEF BIOGRAPHY
Originally a forward to Turn On The Stars, a Bill Evans Discography
by
Peter H. Larsen, 1985 (out of print) edited and appended to by Win
Hinkle, editor/publisher of Letter From Evans.
Born William John Evans August 16, 1929, in Plainfield, New Jersey,
Bill was the youngest of two brothers. The family was very musical
although neither parent ever pursued a career in music. Bill's
older
brother Harry Evans Jr. was the first of the childr en to take
piano
lessons and later became a music educator and the Superintendent of
Music in the Baton Rouge, Louisiana School District. Harry was also
a
jazz pianist and played in many locations in Louisiana.
Evans' mother was a daughter of Russian emigrants and a member of
the
Russian Orthodox Church. Bill's first acquaintance with written
music
took place in the solemn and gloomy atmosphere of the Russian
Orthodox
Church. Bill's father was from Philadelphia. His parents coming to
the
United States from Wales, United Kingdom. Harry Evans Sr. was
engaged
in a variety of business adventures throughout his life including a
bakery, a coin operated laundry and a golf driving range.
Throughout his life, Bill remained close to his parents and big
brother Harry. At the age of six, when he took violin lessons, he
felt
the need to be protected by his brother Harry, who prevented him
from
being beaten up by the other boys in the street. L ater, when
Evans'
life was in crisis, physically or mentally, he often returned to
the
solace and protection his family could provide.
The Evans family was middle class with some dysfunctionality due to
the father's flirtations with alcoholism and constant career
changes.
It was from the ownership of a golf driving range that Bill showed
an
enthusiasm for golf, though he didn't play much in later life. His
father's career was successful to the point of being able to retire
in
Ormond Beach, Florida where he died in 1965. Bill's mother lived in
Florida until her death in 1974. In the late 60's Bill would often
visit his parents in Florida.
In childhood Bill had taken up flute and violin. From the age of
five
Bill would listen-in on his older brother Harry's piano lessons.
After
the lesson was over Bill would go to the piano and imitate what he
heard.
Harry was the first musician in the family and the young Bill was
steered toward the violin and flute rather than the piano. The
youngster would sit at the piano without encouragement, and
improvise
after listening to Harry practice. Very soon it became a pparent to
everyone that he possessed an unusual talent. He started formal
piano
lessons at age seven. When he was 13 he joined the high school
band,
where his brother Harry and multi-instrumentalist Don Elliott also
played.
Encouraged by his teachers, in 1946 Evans' parents sent him to
Southeastern Louisiana College in Hammond, Louisiana to further his
musical studies. Bill majored in piano performance with a minor in
flute. While attending college Bill started writing some of the
jazz
compositions which he later recorded and performed. The tune, "Very
Early" was completed while Bill was in college. In addition to
playing
flute in school ensembles, Bill played piano at a lot of jam
sessions
at the college and at clubs around New Orleans often with guitarist
Mundell Lowe and bassist Red Mitchell, both of whom had settled in
that area for the same period. Later, Evans described those years
as
one of the happiest times in his life. The quiet tempo of the South
suited him perfec tly, and between lessons he had the opportunity
to
practice and to listen to recorded music. It was here that, for the
first time, he heard the records of Lennie Tristano, Horace Silver,
Bud Powell and Nat King Cole. Bill performed all the major
classical
repertoire as part of the requirements for his degree program. He
had
a personal liking for the French impressionists, especially Ravel.
Later, Evans said that jazz didn't come easily to him. He had to
learn
it like a schoolboy learns his grammar. However, due to this fact
the
young man achieved an extreme degree of consciousness about his own
artistic progress. It wasn't until he was 27 y ears old that he let
himself be persuaded to record under his own name.
Thus, he was, at a very early stage of life, aware of his own
ability
and progress, and he was even more aware of how he would handle his
career. When he graduated from Southeastern Louisiana College in
the
beginning of 1950, he joined the Herbie Fields B and. Since it
didn't
seem he could avoid military service, he enlisted. He spent the
next
three years in different army camps in and around Chicago, finally
settling in Fort Sheridan as a flute player in the band. When the
army
discovered his piano talent s they immediately put him to work
playing
and writing arrangements for the jazz ensembles in the band. Bill
performed on several local radio shows produced by the army. Bill
met
and worked with Bill Scott, a bassist and vocalist in the band.
Scott
and Ev ans became close friends, each serving as best men at each
other's weddings.
Many evenings Evans and Scott could be found staying up late and
playing through music "fake books," learning the standard tunes
which
would later serve Evans so well. On one particular evening Scott
and
Evans wrapped up one of these all night sessions ab out 5:00 AM, to
discover that they had an audience of about 20 members of the band
listening in the adjacent room. It seems that Evans was making such
beautiful music that it prompted other members of the band to rise
up
from their sleep and come listen t o this formidable pianist.
He managed to play at local clubs during those three years. He
matured
personally and musically in Chicago and when, in 1954, he was
"released" he knew that he would continue a career in jazz. He
moved
back to the New Jersey area and started working with Jerry Wald's
dance band. Between the gigs with Wald he found the time to play
frequently at the Cafe Society and other small clubs. It was about
this time that he began studying harmony and composition at Mannes
School of Music.
His fellow musicians were quite impressed with him, although the
gig
in Wald's band was not challenging. The records with Wald do not
necessarily reveal the true talents of an upcoming star of modern
jazz
piano. About this time he started accompanying sin ger Lucy Reed.
For
the first time, his unique lyricism became immediately apparent to
all
who listened. This lyricism could also be heard with clarinettist
Tony
Scott, who still claims that he "invented" Evans. The real
breakthrough came in 1956 when he m ade his first records with the
George Russell Sextet. With Russell he played a solo on "Concerto
for
Billy the Kid" in which he fully demonstrated his talents. Evans
showed an enormous understanding for creating harmonies which were
complicated and captiv ating and, at the same time, played with a
kind
of fierce suppression. Behind the suppression, you constantly
perceived the gleam of sadness and non-sentimental beauty that
points
that permeated his entire artistic career.
When the Russell recording was released, Evans had already been in
the
studio to record for the first time under his own name. It was
Orrin
Keepnews from the Riverside label that persuaded him. This happened
in
spite of the fact that Keepnews and his part ner Billy Grauer had
only
heard Evans perform on a tape that was played for them over the
phone
by Mundell Lowe. Evans still did not feel he was ready to record on
his own but let himself be persuaded.
The resulting recording, "New Jazz Conceptions" did cause some
attention, yet still mostly among fellow musicians and the most
observant reviewers such as Nat Hentoff. However, together with the
recordings with Charles Mingus, Jimmy Knepper, and Tony Scot t, the
first album of his own also drew Miles Davis' attention to the
young,
cautious white pianist with the thick glasses. In the spring of
1958
Davis asked Evans to replace Red Garland in his group. The
engagement
with Davis lasted for the rest of the y ear and became a turning
point
in Evans' musical and private life.
When he joined Davis' group Evans was initiated into the elite
practitioners of modern jazz. Earlier, he had worked with two other
"intellectuals," Russell and Gunther Schuller, but with Davis the
music reached a considerably broader audience, both black and
white.
Davis needed Evans to further develop his ideas about using the
modal
themes and the chromatic scales as a basis for improvisation. With
George Russell and Tony Scott, Evans had disclosed his talents for
playing modal jazz, the particular type of jazz tha t Davis was
currently developing. Davis called Evans back to the group in March
of
1959, at a time when Evans had been out of the group for some
months
to participate in the efforts to make the Kind of Blue album on
which
the modal form was to be fully ex plored.
For this session Evans composed "Blue in Green" (although Davis
constantly took credit for it). In cooperation with Davis, Evans
then
created "Flamenco Sketches," and Davis delivered the remaining
songs.
(Another tune written about this time by Evans, for which Davis
takes
credit is "Nardis," for pianist-producer Ben Sidran. "Nardis" is
Sidran spelled backwards.) For its use of the modal form, for its
lyricism, its brilliant solos and for the perfect accomplishment of
the basic ideas, Kind of Blue became a milestone in modern jazz.
Miles and Evans kept in touch and when, shortly after, Evans
decided
to form his own trio it was Miles who introduced him to drummer
Kenny
Dennis and bassist Jimmy Garrison. However, this combination never
worked out for Evans. The solution came when a fe w weeks later he
ran
into drummer Paul Motian with whom he'd worked in Jerry Wald's and
Tony Scott's groups. Motian accepted becoming a member of the trio
and
he recommended a young bass player who had a gig at an obscure club
with a singer. His name was Scott LaFaro.
With this trio the entire definition of the classic jazz trio
changed.
From its start in 1959 until the untimely death of LaFaro in an
automobile accident in summer of 1961, this trio developed into
something never before heard in jazz. Evans, smoothly an d
paternally,
steered the playing in the direction he wanted without disturbing
the
individuality of the other musicians. Especially when playing the
ensemble passages, LaFaro's snarling and impatient tones and
Motian's
discreet but ever attentive playing beautifully modelled the
refined
harmony and the subtle rhythmic displacements of the leader.
The response of his fellow musicians and his ever growing audience
was
almost telepathic. Therefore, it was a shock not only to Evans and
Motian, but to many jazz friends in New York when, one night in
June
1961, LaFaro, in spite of objections from his fr iends, took his
car
after a gig at the Village Vanguard and drove to a private party in
Connecticut, ran into a tree and was killed instantly.
For four months after the accident Evans isolated himself from all
contact, both personal and musical. He didn't play publicly until
one
day in October when Orrin Keepnews persuaded him to substitute for
Wynton Kelly at a recording session with singer Mar k Murphy. He
was
encouraged by his friends to continue his career. Paul Motian
introduced him to a new bass player. At a gig in Syracuse, NY,
Chuck
Israels got his first job with Evans. It all worked out fine and a
month later the trio went into the studi o to record with flutist
Herbie Mann.
However, it was not until May 1962 that the trio was ready to
record
on its own. Again it was Orrin Keepnews from the Riverside label
who
welcomed the pianist. The new recordings proved that, despite the
loss
of LaFaro, the trio had not lost its magical p ower though Israels
was
not as aggressive a partner as LaFaro had been.
Evans started a new fruitful period with such well known high
points
as the two successful quintet-recordings for Riverside ("The
Interplay
Sessions"), a new contract with Verve Records and two triumphal
European tours in August 1964 and early spring, 196 5.
It was at this time that Verve's Creed Taylor took over the role as
record producer for Evans and, at the same time, Helen Keane became
his manager and personal adviser. Taylor and Keane let Evans record
solo while overdubbing himself three times and they brought him
together with arranger/composer Claus Ogerman whose orchestral
arrangements of well known classical themes created two recordings
that in the mid-sixties brought Evans' music to a much broader
audience.
In summer of 1964, Evans changed his trio. Larry Bunker replaced
Paul
Motian at the drums, and this change brought a little more of a
direct
swing into the trio's playing. Another change came two years later
when bassist Eddie Gomez shifted from Gerry Mul ligan's group to
Evans'. Gomez was a more aggressive player than Israels. With these
changes and the introduction of manager Helen Keane as Evans'
record
producer, a new chapter of the pianist's life began. With these two
people as supporters, musically a nd privately, along with his ever
more urgent lyric and eminent pianistic skill, Evans created a
career
as one of the true giants among jazz soloists. Keane stayed with
Evans
until his death. Gomez continued as a musical partner for eleven
years.
Evans continuously had difficulties finding a drummer that could
fit
perfectly into this unit. During the years of 1966-68 the trio was
heard with drummers as different as Shelly Manne, Arnold Wise,
Philly
Joe Jones, Bunker and Jack deJohnette. It was not until the end of
1968 that a solution was found. Canadian drummer Marty Morrel
stayed
with Evans for six years until 1974. It was with this steady group
Evans developed new nuances and facets in this well known form and
especially in the duets with Gomez . The extroverted bassist became
a
leading jazz soloist in his own right during those years.
It was due to Helen Keane, once again, that Evans in 1972 could
sign a
profitable contract with Fantasy Records which lasted for five
years.
It was on Fantasy that some of the most inspired records of his
entire
career were produced. His trio continued to function very well when
around the start of 1975, Elliot Zigmond replaced Marty Morrel on
drums.
In 1977 Gomez wanted new challenges and consequently left Evans.
Shortly after Zigmond also left the group which created a new
crisis
in Evans' musical life. Philly Joe Jones played drums in the
interim.
As different as Philly Joe's playing was in contras t to the
searching, probing styles of Motian, Morrel, and Zigmond, Evans
used
him quite often. Evans found no satisfaction with any of the
different
bass players who auditioned for him. Brilliant instrumentalists
such
as Mike Moore, George Mraz and Rufus Reid auditioned. Though Mraz
and
Reid didn't work out, Moore's playing did please Evans a great
deal.
However this young bass player couldn't work comfortably with
Philly
Joe Jones and he decided to leave the trio after a few weeks. It
was
not until a fri end introduced Evans to Woody Herman's new bassist
Marc Johnson that things worked out. Johnson auditioned at a
Village
Vanguard gig and immediately Evans found the qualities in his
playing
that he had enjoyed during the LaFaro and Gomez periods.
With the sensitive and powerful drummer Joe LaBarbera as a third
member a new trio arose, a trio that Evans himself called his best
since the days with LaFaro and Motian. The trio worked together
until
Evans' death on September 15, 1980.
It was a regrettable that Evans died at a time when musically
everything was progressing in the same directions reminiscent of
the
original trio. Most reviewers found that during the very last years
almost a metamorphosis occurred. The music was becoming more
clarified
and being distilled to its essence. There was more intensity in the
ballads than before, and in up-tempo tunes found an infectious joy
by
playing more directly and swinging harder than earlier. It was
through
this last trio that his ideas c ame closest to being realized to
his
satisfaction. A primary example was the trio treatment of the
standard
"My Romance." This tune, like many others, had evolved into a
micro-chasm of several melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic approaches.
Each performance w as concerto-like in it's thematic display, and
development. Performances of tunes such as "My Romance" and "Nardis
lasted 10 minutes or longer, displaying the art of jazz trio
playing
as directed by a master.
Once again, his personal and family life flavored his art. The
first
major love in his life was Peri Cousins (now Peri Harper, living in
Los Angeles.) Evans abruptly left Peri after experiencing the
pressures of an inter-racial relationship when he toured with the
Miles Davis group. He met Elaine while attempting to conquer a drug
addition problem. Elaine was also addicted to heroin. Sometime in
1969, Evans managed to kick the heroin addiction and started the
then
new, methadone treatment plan, which he r emained on for the rest
of
his life. During the heroine addiction years (1960-1969) Evans
caught
the Hepatitis B virus from a hypodermic syringe. This liver ailment
constantly haunted him and eventually led to the depleted physical
condition of his later years and his death.
Elaine committed suicide around 1972. Evans was never officially
married to Elaine as many Evans fans have assumed. Evans was
married
only once in his life to Nenette Zazzara in August of 1973. Nenette
was introduced to Bill in January of 1973. Bill took an immediately
liking to the 7 year old Maxine, Nenette's daughter by a previous
marriage. Bill referred to Maxine as his "little princess" and
started
legal procedures to adopt Maxine as his own. A son, Evan, was born
on
September 13, 1975. Bill loved hi s children very much. His
marriage
to Nenette was the closest he came to having a traditional family
life.
Evans lost his brother (who took his life) in the summer of 1979.
It
was a great loss for him. Harry Evans Jr. suffered life long
depression. His depression was never recognized and treated
properly.
It lead to mental illness and eventual suicide.
Sometime in the early seventies, Evans flirted with cocaine. He
became
addicted and was unsuccessful at curbing or kicking the expensive
drug
habit. It is assumed that this second habit continued to weaken
Evans
physically, possibly to the point that it a ggravated the
irreparable
damage done to his liver by Hepatitis B.
Bill's second marriage did not become as happy as he had hoped.
Nenette simply was not prepared to accept drug addiction. She
wanted
to ensure that their son Evan grew up in a drug-free environment.
It
is safe to assume that Bill also wanted the same thin g for his son
but was unable stop or curtail his habit enough to contribute to
that
end.
From 1979 till his death, Evans lived separately from his wife
although he didn't want to admit it, even to his best friends. Bill
had a young female companion at that time, Laurie Verchomin. Laurie
was a dancer living in the Boston, Massachusetts area. A fter
Bill's
death, she later married another man in the jazz business, had a
child
by that marriage, and moved to Canada, where her father is a
violinist
with a major symphony orchestra.
Nenette and Evan Evans live in Southern California. Nenette
administers the Bill Evans Estate and Evan, now 17, plays trumpet,
piano, composes music, and is studying film scoring. Evan is also
very
adept with audio and video editing and post-production fo r
television
and movies.
The pain increased from the liver disease. The disease often caused
jaundice and occasionally, abnormally swollen hands. Bill also may
have had an ulcer. Nevertheless the music remained beautiful, pure,
and clarified. Evans was one of many musicians who f ound it
difficult
to get proper medical attention since seeing a physician meant the
reporting of addicts to law enforcement authorities by the
attending
physician. If the authorities knew of his cocaine addiction, they
could have seriously jeopardized hi s career.
During a tour of Europe in August 1980, he could not perform a
concert. He also had difficulties with a tour of the American west
coast at the end of that month and a six night engagement at the
Keystone Korner in San Francisco, September 2-7, which he ca rried
out
while in a great deal of pain.
He flew back to New York on Monday, September 8, 1980 He recorded
two
solo selections for the Merv Griffin television show on the morning
of
September 9, 1980, for later broadcast. That turned out to be the
very
last music of his, that has been preserved on tape. He started a
gig
at Fat Tuesday's on the evening of Tuesday September 9th. He played
also on Wednesday night but on Thursday afternoon he called the
club
himself to tell the proprietor that he was too ill to play that
same
night. During the previ ous days he'd fainted several times and
felt
extremely weak. Marc Johnson, Joe LaBarbera, and Laurie stayed
constantly at his apartment to watch him. A few days later they
persuaded him to be taken to the hospital but in the taxi, he was
struck by a viole nt hemorrhaging. He was unconscious until the
following Monday when he passed away at the Mt. Sinai Hospital. He
was
51.
In obituaries from Tokyo to Rio and from Oslo to Johannesburg he
was
praised for having brought the unadulterated romanticism into jazz
and
for having opened a lot of classically orientated people's eyes to
this kind of art. His "horizontal" melodic lines and his constant
search for beauty with harmonies made him the most influential
pianist
in modern jazz since Bud Powell. Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Keith
Jarrett, Paul Bley, Steve Kuhn, Don Friedman, Richie Beirach,
Warren
Bernhardt, Andy LaVerne, Fred Hersch, Ken Werner, and hundreds of
other notable pianists learned from him.
In his art he was a man of no compromises and always faithful to
his
main idea: that music should "sing" and be pure. You won't find any
political or social protest in his interpretations. Perhaps, being
white and middle class he never felt the need to ex press himself
this
way, although he was very attentive to social injustices committed
to
other people. He considered jazz not only to be music of the black
Americans but music of all Americans. He was quoted as saying that
jazz is America's only contribut ion to the world of art, and he
was
proud of being instrumental in bringing it about.
He was a diligent and somewhat underrated composer. In the hands of
more profit-minded promoters, several of his songs could have been
world hits. Tunes like "My Bells" and "The Two Lonely People" have
all
the ingredients that Broadway directors dream of. Neither of these
became hits but his graceful 3/4 theme "Waltz for Debby" did reach
an
audience outside jazz. However, despite the obvious lack of
commercial
success, Evans was not considered an underrated or a pitiful
figure.
He was quite aware of the l imits he imposed on himself with regard
to
public success and profit since he was not a compromising artist.
Nobody else but Evans himself ever decided how his music should
sound.
He cut all ties to producers who tried to manipulate his sound. His
short s tay with CBS around 1970 was a consequence of this
attitude.
Throughout his entire career he had to fight the preconceived image
that was being forced upon him as being an anemic musical poet.
Numerous records and performances show his unique ability to
express
himself clearly in fierce up-tempo tunes. Till his dea th he felt
that
reviewers and audience often overlooked this ability. Yet it's
difficult to criticize anyone who recognized the impressionistic,
low-keyed, and lyrical Evans. As an interpreter of the ballad and
the
gentle waltz he was among the greatest i n jazz if not THE
greatest.
Delicate harmonizations and sublime understanding for microscopic
shifting in rhythm made his interpretations an art that illustrated
his joy for the purity of music. It also spoke of spoke of a
certain
sadness. He created a be auty that always overshadowed the pain but
never completely wiped it away.
Bill Evans did experience pain and neglect. We must now understand
both. His large output of records and tapes make it a pleasure to
do
so.
January 2, 1994