Goodbye to a Jazz Trumpet Immortal

On December 29, 2008 jazz lost one of it's greatest champions.  Freddie Hubbard left us at the age of 70 after breaking new ground with regards to trumpet playing.  When a friend sent me a text message with the news of his passing, I was in complete and utter shock.  While I knew he was sick I hoped he would come through it fine.  As one of the jazz trumpet immortals, I think I believed he would be here forever.

When I listened to Freddie play, he gave me two feelings - inspiration and intimidation.  Hearing him soar through the music with reckless abandon would make me want to run to the practice room to work on my craft.  At the same time, hearing him play was the equivalent of looking at a 100 foot wall that you know you'll never scale.  I still struggle with those two emotions and have experienced them with other players like Lee Morgan and Woody Shaw.  They all set the bar so high with regards to creativity and technique.  Hearing Freddie rip through a song like "Powder Keg" from Wayne Shorter's Wayning Moments is always enough to make me want to toss my horn into the nearest trash can and become a spectator again.  Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on the day), I love the music and horn too much.  Trumpet players are masochists in every sense of the word.

Freddie Hubbard's body of work is some of the finest jazz.  On every recording that I own he swung for the fences and left nothing in the tank.  His ability to kick up the energy of a recording session was obvious to the ear.  You could feel it too.  I imagined the studio completely ablaze as a result of his playing.  As a result, band mates would respond in kind for fear of letting the fire that he started - die.  Freddie did not save his best work for sessions where he was leader.  Some of his finest playing was as a sideman as evident in Oliver Nelson's Blues and the Abstract Truth, Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage (as well as Empyrean Isles) and Wayne Shorter's Speak No Evil.  His work with Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers remain some of my favorites.

While Freddie was known for his fiery playing he could lay down a ballad better than anyone in the business.  When I decided to play flugelhorn as my main axe I was told by Pat Harbison to seek out a recording of Freddie playing "Here's That Rainy Day" from his Straight Life recording.  It's a textbook example to how a flugelhorn should sound.  Combine that sound with Freddie's ability to weave melodic lines effortlessly...  to say it was beautiful was an understatement.  I played that tune into the wee hours of the night when I heard Freddie had passed and the tears flowed.

Here Comes That Rainy Day

God speed Freddie Hubbard.  You'll be missed but never forgotten.  There isn't a jazz musician alive today who was not touched or inspired by your work.  I and legions of others will think of you whenever we pick up our horns to play.