Since 1992, the Jazzinstitut has been organizing the annual "Jazz Conceptions" workshop together with the cultural center Bessunger Knabenschule. In addition to the six to seven teachers who stay for the whole week, from time to time we invite guest lecturers to give us a glimpse into their view of jazz. In summer 2017, one of these was saxophonist Gerd Dudek, who passed away in November 2022. In conversation with Wolfram Knauer, he talks about his career before the Globe Unity Orchestra, about a meeting with John Coltrane and about the eternal search for the right reed. Before and after the talk Dudek played with the other teachers of the workshop during that year, John-Dennis Renken (tp), Nicole Johänntgen (sax), Uli Partheil (p), Jürgen Wuchner (b) and Martial Frenzel (d).

For the December/January 2023/2024 issue of the magazine Jazz Podium we have transcribed the conversation. Here is a link to Jazz Podium and if you click on the cover, you will find a PDF of the published article with photos of the interview:

Gerd Dudek, 8. Juli 2017, Jazz Conceptions
Bessunger Knabenschule, Darmstadt, 15:00 Uhr

Wolfram Knauer:
Gerd, I'd like to talk to you a bit about your life and your career and your path to jazz, but also, because this is a workshop, a bit about technique, instrument and reeds. Let's start at the beginning. How did you get into jazz?

Gerd Dudek:
I started drumming on old cans as a little boy after the war, in destroyed houses and such. We had an old record player at home and tons of records. I listened to them all, no matter what they were. There were also marches. I listened to everything, I was just interested in music.

Knauer:
You were born near Breslau (now Wroclaw). When did you come to the West?

Dudek:
We didn't get out until 1950. We were repeatedly refused permission to leave the country earlier because we were considered Polish. We were even offered the chance to become "real" Poles. My name is Polish, Dudek, Polish for hoopoe. But our father was in Russian captivity for five years. As I said, we always wanted to get out, but nobody was officially let out. Many fled directly after the war. In any case, it somehow worked out at the end of 1950. Our house is still there, it was taken over by the mayor of Groß-Döbern, Dobrzen Wielki in Polish.

So we went to the west, to Siegerland. My brother then started playing the trumpet. I didn't have an instrument at all back then; I played his trumpet and learned to play scales on the trumpet at the age of twelve or thirteen. After a year, my brother took me to the factory orchestra he played in. The director of the orchestra opened a cupboard and took out a clarinet, an E flat clarinet. I took it, blew into it and trilled something. I then had my first lessons with him, clarinet lessons.

My brother and his friends were already jamming in pubs or at friends' houses, and they also listened to a lot of records, sometimes at this place, sometimes at that. They met up and listened to everything. I heard Charlie Parker, of course, and the sound electrified me immediately. Of course I also heard Johnny Hodges and Coleman Hawkins. From then on, my dream was to play the saxophone. But first I started an architectural apprenticeship and worked in an architecture firm for four and a half years, because my parents thought, "Musician, you can't do that, you have to learn a proper profession. I had always painted a lot, so I was accepted into the office where I made architectural drawings. We built huge projects, high-rise buildings, steelworks, all in South Westphalia. And we were always jamming, even in the office. All the architects played an instrument; we jammed at the Christmas party, we also sat together at Easter and lots of artists came along. That's when I got my first alto saxophone. My brother had organized a big band with friends, the Melodia Rhythmiker - later the band was renamed after my brother, Ossi Dudek Bigband, after Ossi, Oswald Dudek. I played clarinet in it - by then I had a Bb clarinet and played Benny Goodman arrangements, including the solos that were available as transcriptions.

And then I got my first saxophone, and after just a week or two I could play it. I had a few lessons. If you've played the clarinet before, it's not that difficult. Then I started playing in the big band when I was 15 or 16. The first saxophonist, Michalek was his name, then left and I took over the first saxophone part. The band then practically became famous. We played every weekend in huge halls where people danced, of course. We played arrangements by Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller and things like that. And we were always jamming on the side; there were always jam sessions, sometimes in this place, sometimes in that place. I myself was obsessed with the sound of Charlie Parker, but Earl Bostic was even stronger for me, he really got to me going back then. Although I played alto, I actually always thought of tenor saxophone.

Then it turned out that another big band came along and my brother and I joined it. And then there were people in the band who formed their own band, a quintet. I then went and played in American clubs with the band's trombonist, Hans Ernst, called Jacky Ernest. I had my first of these gigs in Frankfurt on Kaiserstraße. Back then you played in a club for one or maybe two months. I was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and stood in front of the club during the break, it was about as hot as it is today, and then a military checkpoint came by, they wanted to see my ID, they wanted to arrest me...

Knauer:
... because they thought you were American...

Dudek:
Exactly... I played with trombonist Hans Ernst's band for maybe two or three months, then I returned home, stayed there for a month or two, then I played in the next band again. And then there was an engagement in an American hotel in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, in the General Patton Hotel, where I spent the whole summer of '58, and there I met a lot of American musicians who were in the army, Cedar Walton, for example, and Joe Henderson, I think, and we jammed together a lot.

Knauer:
... in Garmisch? or Frankfurt?

Dudek:
... in Garmisch. Hmm, it could also have been in Kitzingen. That's where I had my first tenor. I bought it in Düsseldorf, then took the train to Kitzingen, but had a layover in Frankfurt and gave up my instrument there to go to the AKI movie theater - they were open around the clock in big cities back then. After a few hours, I took my instrument out of storage again, didn't look at it at all and got on the train to Kitzingen. It wasn't until I got there that I opened the case, but nothing worked at all, it was totally bent. It must have happened during storage; they just put the suitcases in a compartment like that and then they probably pushed another suitcase in and it fell down. Anyway, I opened the case and had to cry. A brand new tenor, the first time! I then went to Würzburg, which was nearby, and someone repaired it for me. Thank God I had my alto saxophone and clarinet with me.

After that we went to Garmisch, and then a rock 'n' roll band came along that I also played with in Frankfurt, Fats and his Cats. Back then we had a gig in Hanau, that must have been in early or mid '58. We started playing in the afternoon, no matter how many people were there. Anyway, there was nothing going on in the place that day, nothing at all, nobody there. We just played jazz, Mulligan numbers and Chet Baker/Mulligan, that's right, it was a quartet, with Fats and his Cats, "Hot Cats", as it was written on the drummer's bass drum. They usually played rhythm & blues tunes, Fats Domino stuff. Anyway, one afternoon we were playing there, it was completely dark, the place was empty, but at the very back, in the far corner, there were three guys. And then - I was playing - they slowly got up, they were wearing Hawaiian shirts, and they pulled out their knives, three long blades, and slowly came at me. You have to imagine that: I was playing, and the three of them with their long blades... then the middle one went to the bass drum at the front of the stage, knelt down in front of it while the other two stood there with their knives. And he slowly scratched the letters off the bass drum, "Fats and his Hot Cats". Then they just fell off... I kept on playing. I thought, now it's over, it's over. I still have a photo where you can see the shadows of the writing. They went across the fields and away. There was nobody there to stop them, just the boss of the bar. They were probably GIs, Puerto Ricans on leave. They probably wanted to listen to hot music, not a Mulligan. Later, the military police came and recorded everything. But I don't think they ever got them.

The next step: Then I joined the Berlin Jazz Quintet. That was Helmut Brandt's band, we had gigs in Stuttgart and Hamburg on the radio. Helmut Brandt then left for Berlin to join the RIAS Big Band, and Conny Jackel, trumpet, came in his place. Then came the Jazz Group Hannover, where I replaced the saxophonist Bernd Rabe. But before Edelhagen, my last band was actually Helmut Brandt's, the Berlin Jazz Quintet, with Rudi Füsers on valve trombone and Heinrich Schröder, John Schröder's father, on drums and Klaus Gernhuber on bass. I still have a couple of great photos from those days.

Knauer:
Then you were with Kurt Edelhagen for a few years...

Dudek:
Yes, we also played in Cologne back then, at the Bohème, a pub in the famous Eigelstein scene. And musicians from the Edelhagen band came by and joined us, Derek Humble, Jimmy Deuchar, and we jammed the whole evening. And then Derek suddenly asked: Do you want to join the Edelhagen band? There had just been a change in the saxophone section because the tenor player, Jean-Louis Chautemps, was going back to Paris. I had to do an audition at the end of 1959. I had just been engaged on a riverboat in Lübeck, and the Edelhagen band was playing in a large hall in Hamburg. I went there and went on stage. They were all sitting there in front of their sheet music, and I just played everything from the sheet music, slow pieces, fast pieces. The funniest thing: Edelhagen wasn't even there. I had to go straight back to Lübeck because I had the gig that evening, and just as I was leaving the stage, Edelhagen came in. A week later I got the news: I had the gig. I then started in February 1960.

Dusko Goykovitch was also in the band at the time. I had only been in the band for a few weeks when Dusko suggested: Gerd, let's go to Düsseldorf tomorrow, where Jazz at the Philharmonic is playing. That was a tour with the Miles Davis Quintet, the Stan Getz Quartet and Oscar Peterson, among others. They were also making television recordings. So Dusko and I went to the Apollo Theater in Düsseldorf. Everything was dark there, nothing was happening on stage. Stan Getz was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Dusko talked to him and introduced me: Stan, meet Gerd Dudek, a fantastic tenor player. Oh, nice to meet you. They were all waiting for Miles, for Miles Davis, but he never came. I saw Coltrane walking around and then I went to the canteen for a coffee. There was a long counter, like from a Hopper picture, with a waitress behind it in a white smock apron. Just 1950s.

So I went to the canteen and Coltrane walked right next to me. We went to the counter together and ordered coffee. Coltrane was wearing a tuxedo and a short black corduroy jacket over it. He was about half a head shorter than me and very thin. Then we went back to the stage. Miles still hadn't come, and then Stan Getz and Coltrane started playing something in F, "Hackensack". It was recorded but never broadcast. Sometime later I asked Ali Haurand, who had worked for WDR, and then the tapes were found somewhere in the back corner of the archive. I then got a copy, as audio, not video. Oscar Peterson, Paul Chambers, Jimmy Cobb play on it. Wynton Kelly was also there, in the band, and Coltrane played in the quartet, and he played "Hackensack" with Stan Getz. (The original was actually called "Rifftide" and was written by Coleman Hawkins).

Knauer:
For those who would like to see this story illustrated now: There is actually a clip of this session on YouTube, Stan Getz and John Coltrane at their only joint performance, from Düsseldorf.

Tell us a bit about your influences as a saxophonist.

Dudek:
In the beginning it was mainly Stan Getz. That was the absolute master for me, his technique, his sound. I also listened to Coleman Hawkins and Charlie Parker. But after I switched to tenor, it was Stan Getz, absolutely. There was this music store called Hummel on Taunusstrasse in Frankfurt, I used to go there, Don Menza used to come there too. I played like Stan Getz back then, with exactly that sound. Menza had all kinds of records, and he would tell me: Gerd, listen to this, listen to that, listen to this. Then he mainly played me Coltrane records, the old Coltrane records on Prestige. It was an incredible sound, but I wasn't into it at all. The sound was just too hard for me back then, I was really into Stan Getz, his homogeneous, round sound. Coltrane was just too hard for me, that's not a saxophone. Later, of course, I found out what it was all about. In any case, I still remember exactly how Stan Getz communicated with Coltrane, not verbally, but actually just with looks.

Knauer:
Back to Edelhagen again. You started out in a big band with your brother Ossi, then you played in small ensembles, and then with the Edelhagen band, which was not only a jazz orchestra but also recorded a lot of dance music and pop music. Is that kind of thing frustrating for a jazz musician in the 1960s? Or is it mainly seen as a good source of income?

Dudek:
Well, the band was super-precise. Derek Humble was the first alto player to sit right next to me for four and a half years. I can still remember exactly how he played, the timing and everything. I learned that from him. And the Edelhagen band was the top orchestra in the whole of Europe at the time because of this precision. And we also played a lot of jazz, we actually had jazz concerts all the time. When Johnny Griffin came, I jammed with Johnny Griffin as soon as the rehearsals were over, with Johnny and Maffy Falay, trumpet, and there was also Mely Güröl, a Turkish French horn player who later went to Hollywood and wrote film music. We stood in a circle, one of us played the chorus, Johnny Griffin played the bass on the saxophone. And then he took my horn and gave me his. I played his and he played mine, I played his horn and he played mine. You know, Johnny always played King. I suppose he just wanted to play a Selmer - I had this old Selmer. Later he switched to a Selmer because he loved the sound.

Well, and then came Donald Byrd and Jimmy Giuffre with Steve Swallow and Paul Bley... I went shopping with Jimmy Giuffre on the famous Hohe Strasse in Cologne. We had a tailor from the big band who told me: "You buy the fabric, I'll make you suits. Today you can't even pay for something like that anymore.

Knauer:
You've now talked a lot about a time and music that probably not many people in this room associate you with. Many people know you more from the ensemble you performed with on this stage last year, the Globe Unity Orchestra. Which means, more with free music than with big band music. How did you get involved in this independent scene?

Dudek:
Well, one day I made a total break with the Edelhagen band. From one day to the next I said, I'm gone, Kurt, I'm leaving! Three months' notice. We had always played these TV shows, films with Joachim 'Blacky' Fuchsberger and so on... "Just don't get nervous" was one of them. And they filmed it in the studio for days, but you weren't allowed to play a single note because the playback had already been recorded. So you sit in the spotlight for two weeks, films, break, next scene and so on. During the breaks, I always sat in the corner and practiced until it was time to get back on stage. So back on stage again. I was only 24 or 25, so that was 1964. I wanted to play.

And then we went on a tour of Russia. In 1964, in the middle of the Cold War, and the first stop was Moscow, then Leningrad and Sochi. We arrive at the hotel, a huge hotel, wait in the lobby and then we don't get our rooms. We were told to go to another hotel, which was very cheap and a bit out of town. Derek Humble woke up the first night and was completely bitten by bugs. Why all this? The Bolshoy Ballet was in exchange for the Edelhagen Big Band in Germany, Bolshoy Ballet. And the German authorities had expelled two of the people from the Bolshoy Ballet, I don't know what the reason was, whether they had been spying or something. In any case, I assume that our relocation to the bugged hotel was a tit-for-tat. Apart from that, we always had a 'friendly companion' with us on tour. We played for two weeks in Moscow, and also in the other cities, sometimes in stadiums and in front of thousands of people, 20,000 people, every night...

So then I quit Edelhagen and went straight to Berlin, where Fritz Bauer, Joe Nay and Hans Rettenbacher wanted to do a quartet with me. I had a big 220 Mercedes and went straight to Berlin with Bob Carter, an American and the last bass player I had played with at Edelhagen. There I met Johnny Griffin again, who was playing in Berlin. We lived together with other musicians in a huge apartment on Westfälische Straße. Kenny Barron's brother, the saxophonist Bill Barron, came and told me about John Coltrane. He had been at school with Coltrane. The two had started making music together; Bill Barron had initially been much more modern than Coltrane, who had played quite conventionally, still on the alto saxophone. Then, of course, he developed further.

Bill advised me: "Don't look at Sonny Rollins, look at Coltrane. I was still practicing. In Berlin, I met many American musicians who were already active in the free scene. Then I played with the drummer Stu Martin in a totally free context. But I wasn't quite ready yet. One evening we played a set and I quoted "All the Things You Are" in between. And Stu drove in from behind: BAAAA! What's that?! That was a radical change.

We already had a quintet with Manfred Schoof and Alexander von Schlippenbach in the Edelhagen days, with whom we mainly played hard bop, Art Blakey, Horace Silver. I had already been in Berlin for a year and a half when Manfred called me: "Gerd, come back to Cologne, we're reorganizing our quintet, but now with our own pieces, no more bebop numbers. I went back to Cologne straight away. We practiced in Marburg; Claus Schreiner lived there, as did Buschi Niebergall, with whom I usually stayed. So only our own pieces. We rehearsed and practiced and played, and then the first record came out on Lippmann+Rau, "Voices", which became a huge hit all over Europe. We went on to play all the festivals, Molde, Montreux, Prague, Warsaw...

Knauer:
You played your own pieces; you started to improvise more freely. You actually came from a completely different kind of music, that's a big aesthetic shift, isn't it? How did the audience react to it

Dudek:
Yes, it was quite sudden. I was amazed at the reactions, they were mostly positive. Of course, there were also boos from the die-hard jazz fans. But even from American musicians we only got encouragement. Woody Shaw and saxophonist Nathan Davis had a group that was booked to play a gig with us. Woody Shaw came up to me afterwards and said: "Awww, fantastic. I'd like to play like you." Most Americans weren't that free back then, in the mid-1960s. And we just did it. Well, and of course we had already been in contact with modern composers, Bernd Alois Zimmermann and Karlheinz Stockhausen, who both lived in Cologne. In 1965, we had taken part in the world premiere of Zimmermann's opera "Die Soldaten", and later in "Requiem für einen jungen Dichter".

I had been on the "Free Action" record with Wolfgang Dauner and Jean Luc Ponty in 1967. Wolfgang had already notated his pieces correctly, but the improvisations in between were always free. And then of course there was Globe Unity, from 1966, where we performed in Berlin. In the band, there were also written parts, which more or less set the direction - from here to there - and the structure ¬ now he plays a solo or two soloists together, but then comes another written block. These were mostly graphic scores, but gradually they were abandoned altogether. Well, there were still scores, for example on an Asian tour for the Goethe-Institut, where we initially played pieces. But then we were in Bombay at the festival and Alex just said: no sheet music today! And then we just played freely. You have to imagine it: a huge open-air festival. Stan Getz played before us, and then we, 20, 21 people, completely free improvisation, and then you could already see the first people leaving. But we just kept on playing, in the end there was hardly anyone left. There was a huge review in the press, you read about an unparalleled cacophony.

Knauer:
What was it like for you when you realized that the audience that loved you before suddenly couldn't relate to your music anymore? As a musician, do you ask yourself whether you're still doing everything right? Or did you say: Now more than ever!

Dudek:
Yes, that's a good question. We used to play for the audience. And then came this upheaval in the 1960s, when we wanted to show them, didn't want to make flattering music, beautiful music anymore. I myself ... it was always a bit too much for me. I always tried to steer clear of the free passages. You know, there were also people back then who could barely play their instrument, but then played "freely".

Knauer:
At the end of this conversation, I would like to talk about instrumental matters, about technique. How often do you practise each day?

Dudek:
I actually practise every day, even if it's only for half an hour. I'm still trying to find the right sound, a sound that is in harmony with the body. That has as much to do with the instrument as with the mouthpieces. I've just been given a saxophone to look at that belonged to the saxophonist Frank Wright. It hasn't been played for a long time and it has a completely different sound. He had one of these custom-made in Paris. I play with Markus Lüppertz from time to time, and Frankie Wollny, who organizes it, had the instrument at home. They used to live in the same area, at least he had the saxophone with him for decades. Last week we played with Lüppertz in a church, a different kind of music, free, but also melodic. Anyway, the organizer has two sons who also play, and one son tried out the saxophone but could hardly get anything out of it. Frankie then gave it to me to check out; I had to clean it up a bit first.

Knauer:
So every instrument has its own sound? You don't make the sound, only you and the instrument together...

Dudek:
Yes, that's very important to me. Your instrument must not overwhelm you. You have to be able to do what you want with it. And that's why I have the beautiful old Mark VI from 1959, it's like a part of me.

Knauer:
Do you still play the soprano saxophone? Flute?

Dudek:
Yes, I play the flute every day. I would like to play the flute and clarinet more, that can be very important for tuning. On the other hand, an instrument basically already contains all that. But I'm still looking for mouthpieces and reeds. That's a topic in itself, saxophone reeds. I recently played with Klaus Doldinger at the Düsseldorf Jazz Rally in the new state parliament, and Klaus recommended these reeds to me. I bought them straight away, but I just can't get to grips with them. You just keep on searching...

Knauer:
So you've been playing the saxophone for many, many years and are still looking for the right reed, still searching for the right sound?

Dudek:
That's right, yes.