Quincy Jones has been one of the most influential, behind-the-scenes figures in my life, a man I knew of but never fully appreciated until recently. His philosophy on music distills down to a simple truth: there are just 12 notes. But it’s not the notes themselves that create a song; it’s the way we arrange them, infuse them with emotion and interpret them to turn a musical score into a masterpiece. To me, this quote extends beyond music — it’s a metaphor for life. Now, over 40 years old, I see that Quincy didn’t only create the soundtrack of my life but also that of my parents and, in part, even my grandparents.
This musical genius from Chicago began his career with jazz and Big Band legends like Dizzy Gillespie, Frank Sinatra, Dinah Washington and Ray Charles. In more recent years, he’s worked with prodigies like Jacob Collier. Quincy Jones is the architect of a “Musical Matrix,” a Morpheus offering us a choice to dive deep into the rabbit hole of music. At age seven or eight, I didn’t know this architect, but he was guiding me through every step into the world of music.
It started when I watched “Moonwalker,” where Michael Jackson’s music videos stitched together to illustrate his greatness. I admired Jackson’s dance moves, smooth style, ad-libs and unique sound — all without realizing Quincy Jones was the maestro behind it all. But his reach didn’t stop there. As a teenager, I became a fan of the “Austin Powers” series and found myself dancing to the theme song. When I looked it up, I discovered it was called “Soul Bossa Nova” — another creation of Quincy’s. And when Lionel Richie united artists for “We Are the World” to support Ethiopia, Quincy orchestrated that historic recording session, compelling artists to set aside their egos for a greater cause.
TV and movies I thought were originals as a teen, I later learned were remakes. Watching first-generation cinema, I discovered Quincy had done the scores for “In the Heat of the Night,” “The Italian Job” and “The Color Purple.”
Even when I step away from music to watch TV, Quincy’s influence is everywhere. “The Fresh Prince of Be-Air” only came to life because Quincy pushed executives to build a show around Will Smith at a time when the young star’s career was in a tough spot. Series like “The Cosby Show,” “Sanford & Son” and “Roots” all had Quincy’s touch. I wish I could say he only shaped Black media, but he reached far beyond. He created the theme song to the television series “Ironside,” which became iconic as the fight music in Quentin Tarantino’s “Kill Bill.” Even watching “The Sopranos,” I recognized Quincy’s work when I heard “Peter Gunn” in the first episode of the show’s third season.
Growing up as a Black boy, a drummer, a writer, and a teen discovering myself, I saw Quincy’s work permeating my world. He was like a god in this universe of music and media.
Through music, Quincy gives us a lesson about life. Those twelve notes on a keyboard represent sounds that can be played alone, in harmony, sped up, slowed down, or even silenced — each way creating something that says, “Life was here.” It’s no different from life’s experiences — childhood, adulthood, love, pain, joy, peace, belonging, independence and stillness. The basic elements of life, like the 12 notes, are just options we arrange in unique ways to create meaning. For Frank Sinatra, these notes helped him become one of the greatest singers ever. For Ray Charles, they enabled him to break barriers and blend genres. For Will Smith, they led him from Grammy success to Emmy and Oscar achievements. And for Quincy’s daughter, Rashida Jones, they helped her become a respected actress and producer of shows like “The Office” and “#BlackAF.”
A truly full-circle moment came when I stumbled upon a song that had haunted my memory for years. As a kid on the way to church with my father, I’d hear this Latin-fusion melody in the car. Early this year I asked my father about the song. He couldn’t recall its name and my humming it didn’t help. As a child, the song accompanied countless conversations about God, baseball, my father’s childhood in Cleveland and family, but I eventually gave up searching for it. Then, while writing this piece and listening to Quincy’s work on Tidal, I heard it again. That song — “Setembro” — was Quincy’s all along, filling my mind with vivid memories of my father.
In Quincy’s hands, those 12 notes became a symphony that taught us all a little something about creating, living and transcending the ordinary. Ninety-one years is a long time for creativity. From the after-hours allure of “The Erotic Garden” to the soulful reflections of “Everything Must Change,” he leaves a legacy. Objectivity is hard to find when writing about a man whose music helped me stand proud in a world that often felt mute. Quincy may not have said, “Let there be light,” but he waved a baton that demanded sound.
Thank you, Mr. Jones, for a life of struggle and joy, of darkness and light, painting music in colors for a black-and-white world.
Featured image: Photo by Terence Faircloth via Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
Edited by James Sutton
Eric E. Brown Jr. The 12 Note essay of Quincy Jones, reminds me of the Charlie Parker’s passion and discipline and The Harlem, USA Jazzmobile instructor/Director Kenny Roger’s unique musical approach.
I took a class Harlem, USA Jazzmobile. He told his students playing a instrument is just that. Playing a instrument! But when When you translate your approach to from something you doing to something you are, you don’t separate the instrument from the human being but you become the metaphor of the Sexophone, by being the object in the human form.
Musicians like the wisdom of Quincy Jones, Charlie Parker, Kenny Rogers create magic out of people who conceptualized their art form with a unique Philosophy.
Thank you Eric E. Brown for the piece on the wisdom of musician Quincy Jones’s 12 key approach, not only changes lives mechanics of the craft of art form creativity.
Thank you