Bill Evans: Unknown Audio Interview with David Cayer
David Cayer (1928-2017) was a delightful gentleman who I got to know during my years teaching at the Rutgers University campus in Newark, New Jersey. He was based at the main Rutgers campus in New Brunswick, first on the faculty of the Political Science department, and then in administrative positions for many years. But Dave’s passion for jazz caused him to spend many hours at the Newark campus, where he was a founder of the Institute of Jazz Studies, the world’s largest jazz archive. He continued to volunteer at the archive as a journal editor, grant writer, and in many other capacities. In fact, when I was interviewed by a group of people around May 1986 for the music professorship that I was later offered, I remember that David asked if I had any interest in James P. Johnson, which of course I did, and still do. (By the way, a major new Johnson biography is here.)
On one occasion—I believe for a New Jersey print publication—David Cayer and another man interviewed pianist Bill Evans (1929-1980). I don’t know who the other person was, but it might have been the late Chuck Nanry, a Rutgers sociology professor who worked with Cayer on jazz projects. There are a number of audio interviews with Evans online, but this one has never been shared before. Based on the albums that Bill mentions, I can confirm that the interview was conducted around mid- or late June of 1971.
Bill is in a very chatty mood and gives very detailed answers, starting with his early years in New Jersey and first teachers. At 2:05 he talks about his college years at Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond, about 60 miles north of New Orleans. After college he toured with Herbie Fields in 1950 and then went into the Army band. But he returns to his college years, and at 3:15 he tells about one of the “wild” gigs he played in Louisiana where everybody had a gun. At 3:45, he returns to New Jersey after the Army in January 1954. At 4:38, the second interviewer asks about Bill playing with Miles Davis in 1958. Bill says at 5:40 that one of the reasons he left Miles is that his father had a stroke—I don’t recall Bill talking about this elsewhere, although his father died in 1966 after suffering from several strokes. Miles helped him get set up as a leader of a trio, but he was barely making a living until after the now famous LaFaro-Motian group. Bill discusses why trio is his favorite format. At 8:55 Cayer notes that Scott was a melodic player, and Bill says that Scott would have demanded the freedom to do that, implying that Scott was a strong personality. Bill talks at length about LaFaro, then at 10:10 adds that his current bassist Eddie Gomez is “at least on a level with Scott,” as a virtuoso. It’s unclear if he means that musically too?
At 12:40 the other interviewer asks about Bill’s album Conversations with Myself. He rambles a bit, and luckily Bill breaks in to reply. He discloses that he made an experimental recording for Columbia where he and Gomez dubbed Fender Rhodes piano and electric bass over their acoustic instruments. At 16:45, Bill discusses his recent album From Left to Right, and a just-completed album for Columbia (which helps to date this interview). He talks at length about the Fender Rhodes. He says that the touch—that is, the weight of the keys—is too light—and at 18:40 he says that Chick Corea agrees with him about that. At 19:10, Bill compares European audiences to American ones, and notes that he was pleased to see more young people at his Boston engagement in January of “this year.” Cayer notes that Willie “the Lion” Smith played at every Rutgers campus, which I believe happened due to Dave’s efforts. And Bill mentions that Monk toured on a double bill opening for Blood, Sweat and Tears “recently”—in fact, that was early March 1971. Finally, Bill talks about societal problems in the U.S.A. and the way music reflects them. He says the prospect of new music will be “unbelievable.” Please listen, and enjoy:
All the best,
Lewis

Thank you thank you thank you
Thank you for this.