Christian McBride’s Blog

Over the last month, I’ve read some wonderful tributes to the late icon, McCoy Tyner. They’ve ranged from fans, fellow musicians (some who worked with him, some who didn’t), critics, scholars and the like. As one of the many fortunate musicians who worked with him, I’d like to give my version of the man I affectionately called “Homes.”

When describing just how much of an impact McCoy Tyner had on modern jazz piano, I thought about starting this tribute with a conversation I had with another icon, Herbie Hancock, in 1994. It was a surreal day. Verve Records was just about to celebrate its 50-year anniversary with an all-star concert and PBS television special at Carnegie Hall. The press for the event was massive. As part of the ramp up, they were sending musicians to TV and radio stations, there was major magazine and newspaper coverage, everything. On this morning, a quartet of Abbey Lincoln, Joe Henderson, Herbie Hancock and myself were about to play on ABC’s Good Morning America. I was sitting in a dressing room with Herbie while just a small handful of crew people came in and out on occasion. I was looking forward to this moment with Herbie in a rarely experienced peaceful, controlled atmosphere. As I tried not to be too much of a pain-in-the-ass fanboy, I asked Herbie some questions about his career and about music in general. As he started telling me some stories of his early days in the Miles Davis Quintet, something hit me – it occurred to me that were no known stories of Herbie and John Coltrane ever crossing paths. I asked Herbie, “Did you ever get to meet or play with Coltrane?” Herbie’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. He obviously was about to tell me a story he didn’t tell too often. He told a story about a time during a Village Vanguard run with Miles where Miles arrived at the club one night and excitedly announced to the band, “Coltrane’s going to sit in with us tomorrow night!” Herbie said the whole band just went crazy, like, “For REAL?!?” Herbie claimed he couldn’t sit still the whole night at the prospect of playing a tune or two with Coltrane. Herbie also said that when he got home from the gig that night, he “….practiced all my McCoy Tyner stuff. I wanted to try to give Coltrane what McCoy gave him.”

Think hard about that. Herbie Hancock practiced “McCoy Tyner stuff.” Was “Herbie Hancock stuff” not amazing enough?

You can look at this a couple of different ways. The most obvious thought that comes to mind is that Herbie Hancock is the ultimate professional. To do what he did was a basic professional courtesy extended to a giant who was going to join as a guest. But there’s this angle: Coltrane was going to sit in with THEM. I’m going to take a guess and say this Vanguard gig was 1964 or ‘65. By then, I believe Herbie had a personal language that was developing just as quickly as McCoy’s. However, Herbie knew that this amazing man, only 16 months his senior, was so developed, that maybe he’d take a deeper look. Unfortunately, Coltrane never came.

What was it about McCoy Tyner?

Alfred McCoy Tyner was born and raised in West Philadelphia. He grew up on May Street, a small street of row homes just off of Fairmount Avenue, in a section we Philadelphians call “The Bottom”. That street was razed in the late 50’s (or early 60’s) as the Westpark Projects were erected in its place.

Philadelphia boasted (and still boasts) one of the most fertile breeding grounds in the history of jazz. Without naming every single legend from Philly, I’ll keep it to just Tyner and his peers – Lee Morgan, Albert “Tootie” Heath, Bobby Timmons, Spanky DeBrest, Steve Davis and Reggie Workman were all born within a few years of each other. Tyner’s “big brother & sister” generation consisted of Philly legends like Benny Golson, Trudy Pitts, Jymie Merritt, Bill Carney (aka “Mr. C”), Jimmy Smith, Jimmy Oliver, Shirley Scott, Hasaan Ibn Ali (aka The Legendary Hasaan), Edgar Bateman, Philly Joe Jones, and a young man who would migrate to Philadelphia as a teenager, John Coltrane. Needless to say, he was surrounded by greatness.

I came to learn about the greatness of McCoy Tyner from someone who was a “big brother” to me, alto saxophonist Robert Landham. Even though I knew McCoy Tyner’s name, I didn’t start to get inside of his music until I met Robert. I had many, many great jazz mentors in Philly, but learning from one of your boys is special. Robert was known for being one of the best and most complete musicians in Philly. When I started hanging with Robert and his younger brother, Byron, I must have been 14 years old. Robert was 21 or 22, Byron 16. I used to go to their house in West Oak Lane and shed with them probably once a week. Robert was heavy into the music of Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers, Miles Davis, Wayne Shorter, Freddie Hubbard, Woody Shaw, Joe Henderson, Herbie Hancock and McCoy Tyner. Interestingly enough, I didn’t learn words like “substitutions”, “superimpose” and “pentatonic” from any of my teachers at school, I learned them from Robert. We would sit around and listen to records before, during and after jamming and Robert would break down the changes and show me what they were doing, as Byron would copy Jack DeJohnette’s or Elvin Jones’s licks verbatim. Among the many records we listened to were four of McCoy Tyner’s records: The Real McCoy, Extensions, Supertrios and Together. In retrospect, what I appreciated most about Robert was that he understood that McCoy Tyner’s playing was not simply or exclusively a result of playing with John Coltrane, as so many critics too easily assert. It certainly may have been the primary reason for his lightning speed development, but it was brewing before. Although I learned that so much of McCoy’s language was shaped by the pentatonic scale, it would be way too simple, and inaccurate, to stop there. This was a language that is much too complicated to break down and simplify in Euro terms. For starters, no one can or will be able to accurately describe feel. There’s a feel to McCoy Tyner’s playing that is very unlike any other pianist of his era, before or after. The urgency of his eighth notes are emotionally gripping. For the bulk of McCoy Tyner’s career, I find his pulse to be right in the middle of the beat. Often times, he could push, but at his most powerful, it was dead center. As far as his piano sound, the only word I can use is full. Big is accurate, too, but I prefer full. All colors of the spectrum are present. It’s African, it’s European, it’s Asian, it’s American, it’s West Philadelphian.

The first thing that attracted me most to McCoy Tyner’s playing wasn’t his vast and infinitely deep harmonic and melodic approach and feel, it was his articulation. I’ve become a stickler for articulation, musical or otherwise. My favorite musicians spoke loud and clear to me. Through my hangs with Robert, in shaping my own language, McCoy Tyner, Freddie Hubbard and Joe Henderson became my mighty three primary influences. Why? They articulated. They absolutely meant what they played. McCoy Tyner, on the other hand, (and frankly, most piano players, as a result of their left hand, thanks to McCoy) could often make any note sound good, whether or not the notes they played were in the scale of the chord. I started to devour not only the albums of the classic John Coltrane Quartet, but I was learning just as much from McCoy Tyner’s solo albums. They were lessons unto themselves.

For many years, Penn’s Landing had an outstanding jazz series. In four consecutive weeks in the summer of 1987, check this out, they presented Freddie Hubbard’s Quintet (with Ralph Moore, Larry Willis, Michael Formanek and Carl Allen), Bobby Hutcherson’s Quartet (with John Hicks, Ray Drummond and Tony Reedus), Sonny Rollins (with Jerome Harris, Mark Soskin, Bob Cranshaw and Tommy Campbell) and McCoy Tyner’s Trio with Avery Sharpe and Louis Hayes. I, along with Robert, Byron, Joey DeFrancesco, Antonio Parker and other members of my high school crew were at every one of these gigs. When we saw McCoy Tyner, I was awaiting to be blown away. What I remember most from his performance that day is when they played John Coltrane’s anthem “Moment’s Notice”, at one point during McCoy’s solo, Sharpe and Hayes laid out and let McCoy go for himself. The music that came from out of that piano was indescribable. I remember at one point Joey laughing from shock and amazement. He shouted, “WHOA!!!” My sentiments exactly. For the rest of my high school years, I diligently practiced songs from every McCoy Tyner album I could get my hands on. If I ever had a chance to play with him, I’d be ready. 

That would be my only time seeing McCoy Tyner in Philly. That was all I needed, as two years later, I would move to New York and see him often at Sweet Basil, where he was a regular. Sometimes with his trio, sometimes playing solo piano.

In 1991, I received a major gift from another one of my beloved big brothers, Wynton Marsalis. As Jazz at Lincoln Center was in its infancy, they planned a John Coltrane tribute concert. On this concert would be Wynton’s sextet and other musicians including McCoy Tyner, Joe Henderson, Roy Haynes and Billy Higgins. As they planned the groupings, I saw that I would play in a quartet with McCoy Tyner, Joe Henderson and Roy Haynes. I was stunned. Absolutely stunned. I still hadn’t met Mr. Tyner or Mr. Haynes yet. I’d certainly seen them, but hadn’t yet met them. This was the heaviest of heavy moments for a 19-year-old. I would play in that quartet as well as join Wynton’s group as a second bassist, along with Reginald Veal and drum legend, Billy Higgins. I had already worked with Billy and Joe Henderson before, so I stuck close to them during rehearsals, which took place at Juilliard, where technically, I should have still been a student starting my junior year. There was no school better than this, however.

When McCoy Tyner showed up, I was numb. He was a big, solid man. Physically imposing, but so quiet and peaceful. Mr. Haynes, of course, was just as effervescent as always. Carried himself like a rock star, even dressing the part. Still does. Smiling, talkative, dropping lots of funny one-liners. One of the songs we played was Coltrane’s “Dear Lord”. I was so relieved to see that this great man, McCoy Tyner, was actually human. He didn’t remember it. He said, “Anybody got a lead sheet?” There wasn’t one, but there was a portable CD player handy. (Remember those?) Someone had a CD of Coltrane’s “Transition” handy. McCoy took the CD Walkman, went to the piano and it all started to come back to him. Within minutes, I was rehearsing “Dear Lord” with McCoy, Joe and Roy Haynes. (I’m getting chills remembering this) We rehearsed for a couple of hours, and I have to say, I don’t think I said one word to McCoy Tyner. I was way too nervous. Roy Haynes, on the other hand, we bonded quickly. (That’s another blog. 😊) During the rehearsal, both Joe Henderson and Billy Higgins (especially Billy) would say things like, “How about that young boy on bass, McCoy? That’s your homie.” McCoy, quite simply would say, “Haha, yeah.” I guess that was good. I have some great photos from that gig. We played songs like Dear Lord, Transition, Impressions and more.

I’m assuming that sometime during those couple of days together, not only did I make an impression, but I must have talked to him and gave him my phone number, because the following year, he called me directly to play with him at Lincoln Center. This time, JALC would celebrate the music of McCoy Tyner. The show was called, take a guess, “The Real McCoy”. This was a pinch-me moment. Check out this band: McCoy, Bobby Hutcherson, Gary Bartz, George Coleman, Al Foster and Sammy Figueroa. Wow. I still have a DAT (remember those?) of the performance and a cassette of rehearsal. That time, I wasn’t as nervous. I knew just about everyone on the gig, so I wasn’t as scared. I now had an official working relationship with the one and only McCoy Tyner. That gig was awesome. As a salute to our West Philly roots, one of the songs we played that night was May Street, a song he originally recorded on his 1968 album Time For Tyner. It was named after the street he was raised on in our old West Philly neighborhood.

My next time working with McCoy was with his big band a year later at the Blue Note. His bassist of many years, Avery Sharpe, had to miss two nights, so McCoy asked if I would sub. Man, I couldn’t have been more excited. Funny story from that gig. Onstage, I was positioned smack in between his drummer, Aaron Scott, and his percussionist, Jerry Gonzalez. That was the first (and only) time I ever experienced vertigo because it was SO loud! The lid was down on the piano. I saw McCoy, but I didn’t hear him. LOL! In fact, I’m not sure I heard the band! But it didn’t matter, I was building a friendship with McCoy Tyner.

The following year, 1994, I had the wonderful opportunity to record with him for the first time. Todd Barkan produced and organized the album “Prelude and Sonata” with a band consisting of my brothers Antonio Hart, Joshua Redman and Marvin “Smitty” Smith. It was basically a “McCoy Meets The Young Lions” concept, which was popular at that time with many producers. I have great photos of that session.

I’ve had a lot of cool nicknames, but almost everyone who knows me refers to me by my last name. Ray Brown and George Coleman call(ed) me “Mac”, Grady Tate called me “Boom Boom”, Benny Green calls me “Captain Hook”, a few call me – in the spirit of Snoop Dogg – “McBrizzle” or “McBreezy”, but McCoy Tyner saw me one day and shouted, “HOMES!” That nickname stuck. We referred to each other as that for the rest of his life. (Though I’m sure he called most musicians from Philly “Homes” 😊)

After recording with him again in 1998 on his Verve Records Burt Bacharach tribute album, I had one of the most memorable moments of my life.

In 1999, The Clef Club in Philadelphia threw a huge gala. They invited me, Stanley Clarke, Mickey Roker, John Blake, McCoy and many others to perform. Since McCoy and I were the only ones coming from New York, McCoy offered me a ride. He called and asked how I planned on getting to Philly. I told him I would probably rent a car. He said, “No, I’ll swing by your apartment and get you.” McCoy often traveled with a personal driver in a limo. This was no different. I was going to be in a limo with McCoy Tyner for two hours. Was this a moment or what? When he got to my apartment, I told the doormen, “You know who’s in there, man? A friggin’ living legend!” For whatever reasons, there was a police motorcade on the New Jersey Turnpike, so we didn’t drive more than 40 MPH the whole way. Our two hour drive turned into an almost four-hour drive! I had one-on-one time with McCoy Tyner for almost four hours. I was dumbfounded. As I mentioned, he was a man of few words, so I didn’t want to bug him, but I also didn’t want to blow this opportunity to pick his brain about music. He didn’t want to talk much about music, mostly family and his upbringing in Philly. Ultimately, I feel like I didn’t ask him many meaningful questions, as I wanted to respect his space, but it was a moment I’ll never forget. At some point, the trip was moving so slowly, we were afraid we’d miss the beginning of the gig. I then defaulted into his road manager, which I loved. I was on the phone with the Clef Club giving them our ETA and figuring out our path to the stage. The gig was so wonderful, as it meant the world to me to share the stage with him in our hometown. I stayed with my family that night, but I often wonder if I would have gotten more out of him (and me) had we also shared a ride back to New York.

Earlier that same year, Joshua Redman, Brian Blade and I played a week with him at Yoshi’s in Oakland, where McCoy did an annual two-week January residency for many years. It was magical. We played the entire “The Real McCoy” album each night. I have a cassette of one of those nights, also.

Speaking of that Blue Note classic “The Real McCoy”, it made me think of McCoy Tyner, the composer. It occurred to me that many haven’t quite given their due diligence to that side of McCoy’s legend. Everyone knows all of the songs from “The Real McCoy”, but it has surprised me how many (especially musicians) don’t know songs like Reaching Fourth, Contemporary Focus, May Street, Nubia, The High Priest, African Village, Vision, Peresina, Sahara, Song For The New World, Inner Glimpse, Forbidden Land, The Greeting, Fly With The Wind, and Walk Spirt, Talk Spirit. This is but a very small sample of McCoy Tyner’s compositional output. With this, I’ve found that the Coltrane worship, which is undoubtedly justified, has inhibited the jazz intelligentsia from seeing McCoy Tyner’s music as nothing more than “Coltrane Influenced” or “Indian or Middle Eastern Influenced”, which, to me, is a sideways way of still saying “Coltrane Influenced”. That, is not fully accurate. For example, one of the attributes of Thelonious Monk’s music is that you don’t need to hear Monk playing it to know it’s his song. His style and personality are so deeply ingrained in his music, you can tell it’s a Monk tune no matter who’s playing it. For my money, McCoy Tyner’s music is the same. Go play a song like Inner Glimpse. There’s absolutely no one else you could think of except McCoy Tyner. Play Song For The New World, Atlantis, Celestial Chant or Ebony Queen. The DNA of those songs are so strong, no matter how creative you get, many of his tunes demand that you play them almost exactly like him.

As the naughts began, I was thrilled to play with him at Yoshi’s a few times – in 2003 in a trio with Lewis Nash (see my FB tribute), which was probably the height of my musical experiences with him, and again the following year in a trio with Jeff “Tain” Watts. Tain, Joe Lovano and I made a live recording with him for a New Year’s Eve run at Yoshi’s in 2006, also. Lewis Nash, Terence Blanchard, Gary Bartz and I also got to record with him in 2004 on the album “Illuminations”, which also won a Grammy. He even recorded one of my original songs that I composed for the session, “West Philly Tone Poem”. To have such a fruitful musical relationship with a man I loved so much meant the world to me.

Another smoking gig we did in 2004 was at the Newport Jazz Festival in an all-star quintet with Michael Brecker (another homie), Ravi Coltrane and Roy Haynes. That gig is on YouTube.

Around 2006, Melissa and I went to see McCoy at the Blue Note. He was playing in a sextet with Terell Stafford, Gary Bartz, Ravi Coltrane, Charnett Moffett and Eric Gravatt (yet another homie). After they finished the first set, I hung out with the guys on the break. Terell pulled me aside and said, “You should go see McCoy.” He said it with almost a tone of concern. I asked if everything was ok. He said, “You should just go see him.” I knocked on his dressing room door and slowly opened it. Privacy and a peaceful intermission simply just doesn’t exist in most jazz club dressing rooms, so I certainly didn’t want to add to the anticipated crowd, but Terell made this sound important. As I slowly walked in, I could see that there wasn’t anyone there but him. He was just sitting there on the couch, quiet as a mouse. He looked up and said, “Hey, Homes!” I seem to remember Lewis Nash was with me, also. We sat down and just hung with him. He seemed a bit melancholy. He wasn’t unpleasant, just a shade down. Whatever was going on, it was great that Nash and I were able to lift his spirits a bit. He went back on stage for the second set and killed it – just as he did the first set.

Unknowingly, my last time playing with McCoy Tyner came later that year as Joe Lovano, Jeff “Tain” Watts and myself played a New Year’s eve engagement with him at Yoshi‘s. It was to be recorded for his first release on his new label., Half Note Records. It was such a tremendously joyous week as people such as Angela Davis and Bobby and Rosemary Hutcherson came and hung out at various points during the week. Just a couple of days before our run started, James Brown passed away on Christmas Day. I was on standby, as I knew I would have to fly back to New York for his funeral, which was to be held at the Apollo Theater. When I got word that his funeral would be held right smack in the middle of the week, I knew I had to tell McCoy. Before I even finished telling him what the deal was, McCoy stopped me and said, “Homes, I know that was your main man. You go to the funeral. I’ll get somebody to cover for you. Just get there and back safely.” That Thursday morning, I got on a plane, flew to New York, went straight to the Apollo, headed back to Oakland on Friday morning and was back onstage with the cats on Friday night. Was I fried? Did it matter? Both things had to be done, no matter the cost. Pay tribute to a deceased legend and get back to finish the gig with a living legend.

Perhaps the sweetest moment I shared with McCoy in his final years came in 2012 when his quartet played in South Orange, NJ at SOPAC (South Orange Performing Arts Center). By this time, it was clear that his health had deteriorated. He was quite detached, not introducing the band or making any announcements to the audience. After the show, I went backstage to say hello. Instead of knocking on his dressing room door, I tried an experiment. As I walked down the hallway, I just shouted at the top of my lungs, “HOMES!” From behind his door I heard a happy “HEY!!!!” I was so happy. McCoy came out of his room smiling so wide. We had a nice conversation for about ten minutes. He said to Melissa, “You know this is my Homes! This is West Philly right here!”

After that night, I saw McCoy two more times – in 2014 when the Jazz Museum in Harlem gave him a Lifetime Achievement Award and in 2017 when Jazz House Kids presented him with the same award. Both times, he was surrounded by family as he was in a fragile state, so we didn’t really get to hang, but I was so happy to see him.

In closing, I can only say how fortunate I was to spend quality time on and off stage with an American icon who was one of the most important, most influential musicians in the world. I urge all critics to stop simply calling him “John Coltrane’s pianist.” Yes, he definitely was that, but he was so much more than that. In describing Miles Davis, nobody ever leads with “Charlie Parker’s trumpet player.” Nobody ever leads a Herbie Hancock biography with “Miles Davis’s pianist.” They definitely say that much later in the story, but it’s not the knee-jerk, over-simplistic lead in. McCoy Tyner was a great pianist and composer who created new piano language, led an enormous number of great bands, mentoring many young musicians along the way, the same way John Coltrane mentored him. Lead off with that.

Rest In Peace, Homes. We will miss you so.

Some of you know what a TV and movie junkie I am. There was also a time when I was actually a TV commercial junkie, too. Well, let me clarify that. I’m not a TV or movie junkie in the sense that I just watch them simply for my own entertainment, but I’ve been told that I’m one of the few geeks that actually pays close attention to all of the end credits. I like finding out who the key grip was, the dolly grip, the truck driver, the food service company, the Foley artist, the gaffer, and needless to say, the composer(s). I’m not sure I really believe I’m one of a few that does that, but whatever makes the story work. 😉

When you’re a child, certain things stick in your head for the most subjective reasons, particularly TV commercials. The more I think about it, I think most TV commercials are actually made for kids – even adult products. For whatever the “hook” is that some producer wants the viewer to get, I think kids often get it first. Kids actually will hold the Rice Krispies to their ear and listen for the snap, crackle and pop. Some kids often think all champions actually do eat Wheaties. I remember suggesting to my grandmother that she get Dawn dish detergent because it did a better job at “cutting through grease,” and to also get Mrs. Buttersworth pancake syrup because it wasn’t “runny like the other brands.” I really did take these commercials to heart! There’s also the mind control game of playing something over and over again so it gets into your subconscious. Meaning that you actually don’t like or even care about the product, but you just remember the commercial. How many slogans can you remember off the top of your head without even buying the product? “Squeeze the Charmin,” “Where’s the beef?” “Have a Coke and a smile” “Frosted Flakes – they’re grrrrrreeeeat!” It was only after I started learning how to compose and arrange that I asked myself, “Who wrote the music for some of those old TV commercials?” Ok, well how’s this for randomness…

Growing up in Philadelphia, I often would watch WKBS – channel 48. WKBS showed a bunch of old syndicated TV shows like I Love Lucy, The Munsters, The Honeymooners, McHale’s Navy, The Dick Van Dyke Show, etc, etc. They were also the local TV affiliate for the 76ers. A lot of the commercials were from local businesses. Since WKBS was an independent station and not the local affiliate of one of the major networks like NBC, CBS or ABC, I’m assuming that buying airtime on channel 48 was way more feasible for small businesses. One of the most random commercials I remember from my childhood was from a local business called The House of Gayer. If memory serves, it was a beauty salon. Even as a kid, I felt their commercial might have been done a little on the cheap. It was dark and the text font seemed a bit primitive. I don’t remember ever seeing a face, just still photos of the salon and a semi-scary voiceover. (Somehow, I always remember seeing this commercial just before I would go to bed.) However, it had the coolest background music! Because the commercial had a mostly dark blue or black theme, the music felt a little scary, but for whatever reasons, I LOVED the song. I would look forward to pulling the covers just below my eyes when the commercial for The House of Gayer would come on as I would be kind of scared, but absolutely fascinated by this music.

I was 11 years old when WKBS went off the air for good in the summer of 1983. I was so sad. It was the end of a chapter in Philadelphia television history – and the House of Gayer commercials.

Fast forward 35 years.

Since the last time I saw a House of Gayer commercial, I’ve devoured and absorbed as much information as I could about great film and TV composers, and had the great fortune of working with many of these legends such as Quincy Jones, Jack Elliot, Patrick Williams and the man who has been such an inspiration to me not just as a musician, but also as a person, the great Lalo Schifrin. The first time I worked with Lalo was around 1998 when he called me on the recommendation of Ray Brown. Although Lalo is the composer of one of the most recognizable themes in the entire world with Mission: Impossible, I also knew of Lalo as a fine pianist and one of the chief arrangers for Dizzy Gillespie, Sarah Vaughan, Jimmy Smith and many more. Even without Mission: Impossible, he was one of my compositional and arranging heroes. Over the last 20 years, I’ve recorded twice with him as part of his Jazz Meets The Symphony recording series and toured with him even more. (Lalo is also the man who initially got me interested in smoking pipes! One of my greatest memories is going pipe shopping with him in Sydney, Australia.)

Yesterday, for whatever reasons, I was moved to listen to the theme song to Mission: Impossible. It just seemed like the song to listen to at that moment. I opened up the Tidal app on my iPhone and entered “lalo schifrin mission impossible” in the search field and got in my car. Instead of just saving the single track in my “favorites,” I “liked” the entire album, which was a Verve Records compilation called Mission: Impossible and Other Thrilling Themes. Without looking at my phone, I just assumed I’d hear the usual selections that you’d find on most Lalo Schifrin compilations – themes from Cool Hand Luke, Mannix, Enter The Dragon, Dirty Harry, The Cincinnati Kid, Rush Hour and more. When the drum pattern started on track 2, I thought, “This is kinda hip.” Lo and behold, the basses and the flutes came in on top of the psuedo drum march and I SCREAMED!!! For the first time in 35 years, I heard the background music from that old House of Gayer commercial!!! I couldn’t believe that it was Lalo Schifrin’s music that had been licensed for one of the most random commercials I’d ever seen! I badly wanted to pull off the road and enjoy it, but I was going south on the Garden State Parkway. Not the best place to pull over and listen to music.

When I finally had a moment, I saw that the name of that House of Gayer song is actually called Machinations. It was originally recorded for a 1968 album of Lalo’s called There’s a Whole Lalo Schifrin Goin’ On. (cute title!) The song itself sounds similar in nature to what Lalo composed for many movies and TV shows at that time. I wonder if it had been used as incidental music in some TV show? I’m going to have to ring Lalo and find out.

Hearing that track made me feel like I’d been reconnected with an old friend and reintroduced me to my 11-year-old self. Thank you, Lalo Schifrin. Didn’t realize you’d been a part of my life for as long as you have!

In sports, there is a clear objective – to score more points than your opponent. If you play a team sport, there are times when your individual performance may not be great, but if you score more points than your opponent, you still have achieved success. If you partake in an individual sport like boxing, gymnastics, track or tennis, room for a less-than-average performance becomes considerably smaller, but you can still win. Art, on the other hand, is the complete opposite – there is no score. There are no statistics to determine greatness or lack thereof. Art is subjective. How does it make you feel? What does it say to you? If you’re not well versed in certain forms of music, visual art or architecture, the subjectivity of art could make you uncomfortable making a call of whether it’s “good” or not. But there are many parallels in sports and art, particularly in my field of art: music. There’s preparation, strategy, intellect, skill, the ability to improvise, most importantly, to capture the heart and mind of the spectator or listener.

There’s a concrete mantra that both athletes and musicians practice: Start strong, end strong. As a performing musician, the general rule is you start and end your concert with your strongest pieces in order to leave an impression. In sports, you must establish the tempo (there’s another music parallel) to determine the flow of the game. In both team sports and individual sports, towards the end of a period or round, it’s wise to end on a strong run. For 58 years, the Philadelphia Eagles have always run out of steam during the last song of the night. The Eagles have always been like a singer who accidentally coughs while holding their last note. Except, this year at Super Bowl LII, they finally took a lozenge and drank some hot tea.

Now using strictly football talk, here’s the story from a fan’s historical lens.

During the 1966-‘67 NFL season, it was decided that the winner of the NFL Championship Game would play the winner of the upstart, six-year-old AFL’s Championship Game. This “ultimate” championship game would be given a name: The Super Bowl. After Super Bowl IV, the AFL would merge with the NFL and two conferences were created, the NFC and the AFC. There are now 32 teams in the NFL. As of February 4th, 2018, there were 13 teams that had never won a Super Bowl – the Eagles, Lions, Vikings, Jaguars, Panthers, Texans, Browns, Bengals, Bills, Chargers, Falcons, Titans and Cardinals. For historic analysis, let’s eliminate the Panthers, Jaguars, Texans and Titans, as each of those teams are 25 years old or less. They’re babies. The Falcons, Vikings and Bengals were NFL expansion teams created in the 60’s. The Bills and Chargers are part of the original eight that made up the AFL in 1960. That leaves us with the granddaddy teams of the NFL, the Browns (73 years old), the Eagles (85 years old), the Lions (87 years old) and the Chicago/St. Louis/Arizona Cardinals, who played their first game a whopping 98 years ago. As of 11pm, Sunday, February 5th, the list of teams that have never won a Super Bowl shrunk to 12, as the Eagles beat the New England Patriots in Super Bowl LII, 41-33.

To understand why my beloved Eagles’ Super Bowl win is so hard to fathom, it’s all about history. Before the Super Bowl era, the Cleveland Browns won four championships. They were a dynasty in the 40’s and 50’s. Since the Super Bowl era began 51 years ago, the Browns have had only 17 winning seasons. Their last being in 2007. They are also the third team in NFL history to go winless in a regular season. Since their back to back heart-stopping (but heartbreaking) playoff losses to the Denver Broncos in 1986 and ‘87, the Browns have made only one playoff appearance. Let’s not even discuss Art Modell. Unlike the Eagles, the Browns have not been expected to win a Super Bowl for a long time. Browns fans CAN say three things:

1. Next to Philadelphia, they may have the most loyal fans in football.

2. Although it was long ago, they did once dominate an era.

3. The greatest running back who ever lived (some would say the greatest player, period) played for them: Jim Brown.

Before the Super Bowl era, the Detroit Lions also won four championships. Three of those four titles came in the 1950’s as players like Bobby Layne and Doak Walker were their stars. They cooled off in the 60’s as the Super Bowl era dawned. There wasn’t much to get excited about as a Lions fan, as they made only three playoff appearances between 1967 and 1991. The main reason for their early-90’s resurgence, came courtesy of the man who many would say became the next greatest NFL running back of all time, Barry Sanders. The Barry Sanders-era Lions were always good. Unfortunately, good was just never enough as the Lions made first-round exits in four out of five playoff appearances during Barry’s era (1989-1998). Since Barry, the Lions have again been eliminated in the first round of their four playoff appearances. Each time, as a #6 seed. Again, unlike the Eagles, the Lions have not been expected to win a Super Bowl for a long time.

Since the Cardinals played their first football game in 1920, they have won just two championships. Their first one came shortly after their debut, 1927, and their second in 1947. With the Chicago Cubs winning the World Series in 2016, this means the Cardinals now own the longest championship drought in professional sports at 71 years. Since 1947, the Cardinals have made the playoffs only NINE times. Five of those nine have been in the last decade. They’ve also moved twice – from their original place of origin, Chicago, to St. Louis in 1960, then from St. Louis to their current home in Arizona in 1988. They technically have four players in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, but considering two of those four are Emmitt Smith and Kurt Warner, who, let’s face it, will always be recognized as Cardinals second (or third), let’s say in all fairness, only two pure Cardinals are in the Hall of Fame – Roger Wherli and Aneas Williams. In their one Super Bowl appearance in 2009, they gave the Pittsburgh Steelers all they could muster, but a now-legendary, improbable circus touchdown catch by Santonio Holmes, heartbreakingly ended a Cinderella season for the Cardinals. There’s not much you can say if you’re a Cardinals fan. (if there is such a thing 😜) The Cardinals have two bright spots:

1. Over the last decade, they’ve become one of the more exciting teams in the NFL. Hopefully, they can sustain that.

2: They will undoubtedly have their third “pure” Cardinal in the Hall of Fame when the great Larry Fitzgerald calls it a career.

Now, the Eagles. Like most Philadelphia natives, I have invested a lot of time, love and energy into our beloved football team. So much so, that when I moved to New York City in 1989, I never once considered not rooting for them. For the last 29 years, I’ve often been the lone Eagles fan in a Giants or Jets bar. Dangerous? Indeed. Lunacy? Perhaps. But I’ve always bled Eagles green.

Our history compared to the three other non-Super-Bowl-Champion grandfather teams doesn’t differ too drastically. From the Eagles birth (1933) to the first Super Bowl (1967), the Eagles won three championships – 1948, 1949 and 1960. Through the 60’s and 70’s, the Eagles weren’t a very good team, going 113-160-9 from 1960-1979. I got lucky. I saw my first Eagles game in 1980, as they were rising to the top of the NFC under head coach Dick Vermeil. We went to the Super Bowl that year. (Just imagine, my first year watching football and the Eagles go to the Super Bowl!) Immediately after the Eagles beat the Dallas Cowboys in the NFC Championship game, my uncle Butch brought me with him to Veterans Stadium. I couldn’t figure out why we were going there AFTER the game. But I soon discovered he just wanted to go and watch all the crazy people celebrate as they tore up Broad Street. It was exhilarating. Everyone was so happy. I became an Eagles lifer. As for the Super Bowl, as all of us who were around remember, the Eagles were favored against the wildcard Oakland Raiders. There was no way we’d lose that game. Well, we did, and I discovered what it REALLY meant to be an Eagles fan. Those Eagles decayed quickly as Vermeil retired due to a newly minted word, “burnout”, after the strike-shortened 1982 season.

After stumbling for a couple of years, the Eagles were back on top, sort of. Buddy Ryan came to Philly after being a vital part of the 1985-86 Super Bowl Champion Chicago Bears. Owner Norman Braman and Ryan put together a team for the ages – Randall Cunningham, Reggie White (HOF), Jerome Brown, Keith Byars, Cris Carter (HOF), Clyde Simmons, Seth Joyner, Byron Evans, Andre Waters, Keith Jackson, Wes Hopkins, Eric Allen and more. This team was the team that was supposed to be a dynasty, destroying opponents at will, hoarding all the Lombardi trophies. Well, it didn’t quite workout that way, as we not only didn’t make it to the Super Bowl, we didn’t even win a PLAYOFF game under Buddy Ryan and this “dynasty” of a team. They certainly were one of the most popular, most entertaining teams of its era, but who needs to be popular and subpar?

After Buddy was fired in January 1991, offensive coordinator Rich Kotite took over as head coach. We showed flashes. Finally even won a playoff game (1992-93 wildcard against the Saints). Had one of the best 1-2 WR combinations in football with Fred Barnett and Calvin Williams. But this version of the Eagles would soon be eclipsed by the fast-rising, new dynasty of the NFL, the Dallas Cowboys. Let’s jump to the Andy Reid era. The soft-spoken, ample, nice-guy coach brought the Eagles back to dominance in the 2000’s, building a team, like Buddy Ryan, that should have been championship heavy. During the Reid era, he brought us McNabb, Westbrook, TO (HOF), Dawkins (HOF), Trotter, Vincent, Vick, Shady, DJax, Akers, four Championship games, one Super Bowl appearance, but most of all, fourteen years of “Wait ‘til next year”. Almost every year after Reid’s first year as head coach, the Eagles were always expected to “go far”, if not “all the way”. In my 38 years of watching the Eagles, we have, for the most part, been a strong organization. Perennial threats to the title. But then, take January 2003, when the Eagles played in their second of four consecutive NFC Championship games. This time, against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. The stage was set so perfectly. Veterans Stadium, the Eagles home since 1971, was scheduled to be demolished at the conclusion of the Phillies baseball season, making this the final Eagles game ever played at the “Vet”. The Buccaneers were an unbelievable 0-20 in games below 40 degrees. That day, it was 29 degrees. Weather notwithstanding, the Eagles were heavy favorites. The Oakland Raiders would beat the Tennessee Titans in the AFC Championship game later that night. As dominant as they had been all season, the Eagles could have a chance to not only win their first Super Bowl, but they could have avenged their loss to the Raiders in Super Bowl XV. But alas, somehow we blew all of our lines in a perfectly written script as the Eagles lost 27-10. (Ironically, they lost by that same score in Super Bowl XV.) And THAT’S what it meant to be an Eagles fan. Heartbreak. There’s that singer running out of breath and coughing again!

With Chip Kelly at the helm from 2013-2015, the Eagles were completely gutted and dismantled. Every great player we had was either cut or traded. Fans watched in horror as DeSean Jackson was released, Jeremy Maclin was released, LeSean “Shady” McCoy was traded (I’m STILL pissed about that one!), Nick Foles was traded, Michael Vick was released. It was like watching a quack doctor do surgery on a body without anesthesia.

By the time Kelly was fired in week 15 of the 2015 season, it was clear that the Eagles were completely in rebuild mode. Our perennial superstars were replaced by players like Sam Bradford, Mark Sanchez, Ryan Mathews, Jordan Mathews and Kiko Alonzo.

WTF???

When Andy Reid’s coaching protegé (and former backup QB to both Brett Favre and Donovan McNabb) Doug Pederson was hired as head coach in 2016, we took comfort in the fact that Chip Kelly was now off to destroy another team. We drafted a young quarterback from North Dakota State (where??) named Carson Wentz. We still had the man Chip Kelly called “The Swiss Army Knife” (because he was such an incredibly versatile tool), the ageless Darren Sproles. As always, the “Wall”, Jason Peters would be on the line protecting Wentz’s back. The defense didn’t change too much, but they seemed at the very least, decent, so maybe a move here, a move there, and we’d be good.

The 2016-17 Eagles finished with a happily surprising 7-9 record. Most fans and writers expected the Eagles to finish 4-12 or 5-11. To win seven games with a rookie coach and a new cast seemed like a small victory.

In the offseason, the new cast got even newer. The Eagles acquired LeGarrette Blount, fresh off a Super Bowl win with the Patriots, as their number one RB. We also acquired all-star WRs, Alshon Jeffrey & Torrey Smith. There was also Ronald Darby, CB of the Buffalo Bills, who we acquired in a trade with WR Jordan Matthews. During the regular season in week 8, there was quite the surprise acquisition of Miami Dolphins RB Jay Ajayi. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that as LeGarrette Blount seemed to be doing a fine job by himself. But the more RBs, the merrier, I suppose. How much success could this team possibly have with so many newbies? I had to remind myself that this was rebuilding time. During the season, things got challenging as we lost many of our major players to major injuries. Darren Sproles, our swiss army knife, went down for the season with a devastating broken arm and leg in week three. There was Jordan Hicks, Jason Peters, Ronald Darby, and, of all people, Carson Wentz, making a run for league MVP, who tore his ACL in week 14.

Despite the injuries, the Eagles were still winning game after game. The season was almost feeling surreal. But after the injury to Wentz, us Eagles fans couldn’t help but feel impending doom. This wasn’t surreal, this was FO’ real! 😜 So much for the rebuild. Now what do we do this late into the season?

Nick Foles, who the Eagles had reacquired in the off-season, came off the bench. We figured there was no way the rusty Nick Foles could keep this train running smoothly. As he replaced the injured Wentz in the 3rd quarter of that high scoring shootout against the Rams, it seemed we’d be alright as he, in fact, did keep the train running smoothly as we won, 43-35. In the next game against the lowly Giants, the Eagles started off a shade slow, but Foles put up 2013-like numbers, as he went 24/38, 237, 4TD, 0 INT. We were good to go, it seemed.

Up next was a Monday night home game against the Raiders and their 26th-ranked pass defense. This should have been a redux against the Giants – a gimme. But games like this are why cynicism is at the core of every Eagles fan.

Let’s go back to 2010.

The Eagles pulled off one of the greatest comebacks in NFL history, beating the Giants 38-31, in the game called “The New Miracle of the Meadowlands”, as DeSean Jackson ran back that famous punt as time ran out. The Eagles had built immeasurable momentum with that win, as we were fighting to win the NFC East and keep the hated Dallas Cowboys at bay. Their next game after that was a Monday night home game (Because of a snowstorm, it was actually a Tuesday night game) against the Vikings. The Vikings finished last in the NFC North that year. In this game, Joe Webb was starting at QB for an injured Brett Favre. Facing a bad team with a backup QB, this should have been a gimme. So much for the momentum of the Meadowlands Miracle as the Eagles not only lost 24-14, but they lost their next and final regular season game to the Cowboys, 14-13. It seemed as if the Giants comeback didn’t mean a damn thing. It didn’t, as the Eagles also lost to the Packers in the first round of the playoffs, 21-16. Three straight losses after the most amazing comeback in our history. That’s what it means to be an Eagles fan: “Cough! Cough!”

Now, back to the 2017 Monday night game against the Raiders.

The game was indeed a nail biter, but for reasons you wouldn’t suspect. Our running game was good and the defense held David Carr and Marshawn Lynch relatively in check. The problem was with Nick Foles. All of a sudden, he looked clueless. He over and underthrew receivers, couldn’t scramble, couldn’t make anything happen on the fly. We won 19-10, but that was mostly because of our defense making plays and our special teams stepping up. There was deep concern over the play of Foles, who finished with a line of 19/38, 163, 1 TD, 1 INT. The cynicism was flaring badly. We had one game left in the regular season. The opponent? The hated Dallas Cowboys. With the Eagles having locked up home field advantage in the playoffs, the plan was to only play the starters in the first quarter of this game. Foles had 15 minutes (or less) to prove to us that the Raiders game was a stumble, not the norm. Unbelievably, Foles looked as bad, if not worse, than he did in the Raiders game. For Eagles fans, there was a collective “We are so screwed” sentiment amiss.

As the #1 seed Eagles stumbled into the playoffs, doubt was stronger than ever. We’d heard this familiar song way too many times. In our divisional playoff game against the defending NFC Champion Atlanta Falcons, the Eagles were underdogs in their own house. That dubious designation seemed justified as the Falcons entered the playoffs winning four of their last five games, including a wildcard win on the road against the favored Rams. They were looking like the defending champs that they were. The game was eerily similar to the Raiders game. Foles looked tentative as we again won…barely. It took a goal line stand by the defense on the last play of the game to secure the 15-10 win. As we awaited the winner of the Saints-Vikings game, we could only wonder when Foles’s luck would run out. The Vikings, who won in their own miracle, came to Philly favored.

Something happened.

My guess is that head coach Doug Pederson smartly realized that Foles was the ONLY bright spot during the Chip Kelly years. Pederson put Foles in a time capsule, let him turn back the clock and seemingly busted out the 2013 playbook. Foles’ play mixed in with Pederson’s aggressive playcalling turned Foles into a madman. He torched the Vikings! All of a sudden, it seemed like that evil football ghost was dead. Foles and the Eagles crushed the Vikings, 38-7. Foles finished with a line of 26/33, 352, 3 TDS, 0 INT. Up next, the SUPER BOWL!

It absolutely had to be against the greatest sports dynasty since the Chicago Bulls of the 90’s – Tom Brady, Bill Belichick and the New England Patriots. None of this meant anything unless we were going up against the best. Lack of defense by either team notwithstanding, the Eagles looked confident and played like they expected to win. In Super Bowl XV, they looked scattered and unprepared. In Super Bowl XXXIX, they looked overwhelmed and a bit nervous. (Not to mention, Andy Reid’s questionable clock management.) But in this game, they collectively stared down the mighty Patriots and beat them, not without drama, 41-33. The 2017-18 Eagles got the monkey off our back. We were finally World Champions. Years of heartbreak finally turned into victorious bliss. That metaphorical last note was given its full value and sung fortissimo!! If only my grandfather and my uncle Butch were alive to see this. They withstood way more heartbreak than I did.

So why isn’t this win sinking in? Maybe because I still don’t know this team well. I feel like I’m just getting to know these cats. Jake Elliot? Ronald Darby? Jay Ajayi? Tim Jernigan? Chris Long? Rodney McLeod? These guys have been Eagles less than a year. Some less than six months! We just met you and go and win it all? Whuuuuut? Eagles, traditionally you’re supposed to gravely disappoint us many times before you go winning a Suoer Bowl!

I suppose that since the ‘80, ‘81, ‘88, ‘89, ‘90, ‘95, ‘01, ‘02, ‘03, ‘04, ‘06, ‘08, ‘09, ‘10, ‘13 teams – all great Eagle teams that had perennial Pro Bowlers who had grown together and picked to go far in the playoffs – couldn’t win a Lombardi Trophy, how could this ‘17-18 team be the one that does it? Those previous teams gave us unyielding hope every year for many years. We haven’t had a chance to marinate in our customary loyal and loving disappointment with this particular squad. But seriously, I think about how many times the great Brian Dawkins left it all out on the field in Midnight Green and never won a ring. To think about how many games Donovan McNabb, Brian Westbrook, Jeremiah Trotter, Hugh Douglas and David Akers played in an Eagles uniform – not to mention the late Jim Johnson….I wish they could have gotten a ring. The Buddy Ryan squad – Randall Cunningham, Jerome Brown, Seth Joyner, Cris Carter, Clyde Simmons, Keith Jackson, Keith Byars, Andre Waters. From the “Body Bag Game” to the “Bounty Hunt Game”, what great memories you gave us. 😄 The Dick Vermeil gang – Ron Jaworski, Wilbert Montgomery, Harold Carmichael, Herman Edwards, Bill Bergey, Frank LeMaster….these were the players that were with the Eagles during the lean years of the mid and late 70’s that quickly turned the club around. I think it’s safe to say that this trophy was won for all of them. Eagles, you finally sang that last note like Maria Callas in Carmen! Thank you Jeffrey Lurie, Howie Roseman, Doug Pederson, and all the great players on our 2017-18 Super Bowl team. And of course, the voice of the Eagles for the last 41 years, Merrill Reese (who worked with my uncle Butch at WHAT-AM in the late 60’s and early 70’s.) 😄

Fly, Eagles, Fly.