The Premier Drummer In Jazz And Funk: Mike Clark Interview

[Music] Hello, my name is Jonah Jonathan, and welcome once again to The Jazz Musician's Voice. Today, I'm really pleased to speak with drummer Mike Clark. Really a legend in the drumming, especially in the funk and jazz style of drumming. In fact, he was a member of Herbie Hancock's legendary group, Headhunters, in the '70s and the whole fusion era, but also an extensive drummer on the jazz scene. He has worked with many of the great legends of this music. We're really pleased to speak with him because he's going through some health issues. Recently had surgery for kidney stents and was just gracious enough to speak with us. And, uh, he shares about his life and the music. Really was a prodigy and has played with so many great musicians. Uh, he's also got some stories on Miles Davis that I will be sharing. Uh, so thanks for watching this interview. Uh, check out Mike Clark. Check out the links in the description. Share with your friends. And, uh, stay tuned. Got a lot more future videos coming. And, uh, yeah, thanks for watching.

Ladies and gentlemen, uh, I'm really pleased today to speak with, uh, really one of the heavyweights of jazz and, uh, funk drumming. Uh, today, Mike Clark. And, uh, thanks so, so much for speaking with me, Mike. Um, you know, and thanks for taking the time. Uh, you've got some health issues, and we appreciate that you could talk with us. So, um, for people who aren't familiar with your music, uh, talk a little bit about how you guys started in music. Uh, you're initially from California, from Sacramento, California, right?

I am. My father was, uh, was a drummer, and, uh, he stopped playing when he was about 19 or 20. But he always had, I mean, he played his jazz records like, I mean, like all day and night. And plus, that was his party music, and he was a serious party type person. He loved hanging out and having friends over, and there was always a drum set there in the house. So, I, when I was about four, you know, I'd been hearing its music all the time before I could talk or walk. You know, because he played it all the time. So I guess I internalized it somehow, you know, as a baby, you know. You know, and when I could move around, kind of, uh, on my own, um, I walked over to the drum set and I started playing. I could immediately play. I played kind of like a Gene Krupa tom-tom sing thing type soul, and it all made sense. And my father was like, "Wow!" He was overjoyed, you know. So they took me, him and my mother, took me to a nightclub that night and had me play with his buddies that he used to be in the band. And they played straight ahead. And, uh, and I had, I couldn't, uh, I had to stand up because I couldn't reach the pedals. But I played this, uh, tom-tom solo, and I got, I, I remember I could still see me doing it. And I somehow I knew to go ding jang ling chang changling on the right cymbal. Like, I kind of, it was weird. It was kind of there. It was there.

And then after that, uh, I played in the house like every day. And he would take me to every jazz gig. He was a railroad man, and he traveled. So we traveled everywhere. New Orleans, Atlanta, Philly, Tiff's, Baltimore. And he'd take me to jazz gigs constantly. And then also pay the band drummer. In those days, it's the '50s, so you just buy a guy, usually give a guy five bucks or buy the band a drink, yeah, let him play. So I played with everybody, man. A whole, whole slew of guys. So by the time I was seven or eight, I had a lot of experience. So when I got in school band, I could really, like, I was way, way ahead of everybody. It sort of balanced itself out later, you know, it usually does. But some guys, but that was a big growth period for me. And I, I played all the time. I didn't ever have a lesson. I never had lessons. I had a guy teach me to read.

Well, that, that's really incredible. I mean, you're, yeah, you're like a prodigy. And at that, in that sense, you know, many of us young musicians at that time, like my dad did the same thing. He would come with me with and let me sit in on gigs, and he would drive me places, you know. And, um, uh, that's, that's awesome that you got to go like traveling so much on trains and stuff and, uh, really absorbing all this, uh, this music. I mean, talk about some of the music you were seeing because, uh, that's a, not a legendary era of music. You know, you're born in the, in the '40s, so, uh, by the time you were a kid, you know, you're, you're running into like, you must have been running into that early rock and roll, R&B, soul, all that, you know.

Well, I, his interest was in jazz, of course. So I heard everybody from, I heard, uh, I can't name them all, of course, you know, like Duke Ellington, Count Basie, uh, Harry James, Louis Armstrong. And then, um, uh, whoever it was that wasn't that well-known that we're playing in jazz clubs, we would go and see if I could sit in. And if not, I would just sit and absorb the stuff. But it was also not only, uh, a lot of cultural stuff, uh, also regional, you know what I mean? I was, I was already checking out that people in New Orleans played different than people in Chicago, you know. Same tunes, the same music, but something else, you know, a little something different from each place I'd go. And, uh, and then, uh, um, he brought home an Art Blakey record. He didn't know who Art Blakey was because, you know, his, he was into more big band swing and all this stuff. And, uh, and I, uh, uh, I was about eight years old or nine, and I heard Art Blakey and I went, "Yeah, man, this is where I want to go." I knew. And I just went, "That, whatever that is." I didn't know what to call it. I didn't know bebop. No, I just want that.

So, and so then, uh, he started taking me to hear Cannonball and Art Blakey and this one and that one. And now my record collection started shifting from Benny Goodman to these people and Count Basie and what have you. And then, uh, I ended up as a teen in Texas. And because I was an advanced drummer as a teen, I could work. But nobody asked you about your ID, nobody cared in those days. I never got, nobody said anything to me. Uh, once I became 15 or 14 or so, I would just, every once in a while, if somebody got jealous that I was on a gig and I, they felt that they should have the gig, they'd call the cops on me. But that happened, I think that only happened once, actually. And the guy that did it was a soul singer named, uh, Mighty Joe Hicks, and he was a friend of mine. And I quit his band and joined another band, and he ratted me out.

But, um, in, but in Texas, uh, I was trying to get make myself known as the jazz drummer, of course. I never thought about playing any funk or any of this. I liked it, and it wasn't that popular yet. And, um, I got a, I got, because I could swing, I got offered a lot of, a lot of blues gigs. So as a young teenager, man, I played with Freddie King, Albert King, Jimmy Reed, Jimmy Hughes, O.C. Smith. I mean, I can't even think of all of the guys. Whoever was on that circuit, and how I ended up playing with them, I wasn't in their band. I worked in a couple of nightclubs. I was a popular drummer in a couple of nightclubs, so they'd keep me on. And those guys would come through, and we'd back them up. Pretty sharp.

Yeah. And, uh, um, talk about, like, because, you know, as a, as someone who likes to study the ethnography of stuff, like I wrote about the Harlem scene and stuff. Talk about, like, uh, what it was like to be in some of these clubs as a teenager, you know, like, uh, uh, especially, uh, in those times, it must have still been like, uh, some of that segregation going on and stuff. So, a young white player with these black guys, I mean, there must be, it must be an interesting thing.

You know, there was, well, first of all, you know, when you're young in those days, you're not thinking like that. You're innocent. You're not thinking, "This guy's black, that guy's this, I'm that." You're, I'm just wanting to play, you know. So, yeah. So, and so you're not seeing, I don't, I mean, I'm aware of prejudice, and I'm aware because my father made me aware because we're, uh, California people living in the South. And I was, uh, when I was six years old, I played with, uh, the only black band that was allowed on, uh, on Bourbon Street in the '50s was a guy named Octave Crosby. And he liked my drumming when I was a little boy. And I would come in and play with him. And the cops took me out of there. They removed me. I mean, they didn't beat me up, they moved, but I didn't understand. And they said, "Well, you're gonna cause a riot." So they scolded me and my father. And I could just see it now, it was under this big street lamp, you know, in New Orleans. And we're on, I'm like, "What did I do wrong?" Plus, I was in the middle of a solo on "Sweet Georgia Brown." So I did piss me off, quite frankly, you know.

Yeah. Um, but later in my teen years, uh, I played, uh, with a wide variety of, uh, fellow air-breathing earthlings. Like, I would play, uh, the Chitlin' Circuit a lot. And and the reason I got those gigs is because most of the jazz drummers at that time couldn't play funk very well. It sounded more like Horace Silver kind of funk boogaloo, which is cool. But these guys wanted the more of the R&B kind of sound, and I had it because I was that age. And when you, there was no jazz station. You listen to the radio in the car, and you always listen to rhythm and blues. I never listened to rock and roll. I hated it, you know. And, uh, so, uh, so I knew how to, uh, I kind of could play the James Brown beats. Really, I didn't have to rehearse. I didn't have to practice the beats. I could hear it. And because I played so much jazz, I was like, "Oh, I see what he's doing."

And then a lot of guys on those blues gigs when I was young, nobody was mean to me. They would show me how to get a good backbeat. Cats would come up and say, "You gotta mash down on it a little bit after you hit it, you know what I mean?" Like cats would teach me things. And I was respectful and would listen, you know. And, uh, so I developed a good shuffle and a good backbeat and a good funk groove to play with these guys. And they liked me. And so, uh, and, uh, the crowds were, were black. They, and some of them were sawdust floor joints like you read about. And you'd bring brown bag joints. You come in with a, with this, with a, they serve you with setup ice and ginger ale, and then you bring your own booze and pour it in there, you know. And of course, these guys also turned me onto a lot of weed. So I got stoned very young. And and then when I would hear and see and feel race-oriented, thing-oriented things, it would strike me deeply because I was stoned. So I was paying attention. And I'm like, "Whoa, you know what I mean?" Like, I'm trying to, you know. And I didn't, uh, I, uh, I didn't question my place in it because these guys kept calling me. And every once in a while, they teased me about being white. It was cool. All nice to me. But they, nobody ever, uh, was nasty. They would just be teasing me, you know, sometimes.

Well, I think you, I mean, uh, when we talk about the history of all the people you've played with, I mean, I think you've, uh, you've earned your place as an, as an honorary, uh, person of this music. Uh, um, as a disciple, you know, you, I mean, man, Albert King, for example, I mean, all those blues guys, that stuff is incredible, you know. And, um, you know, but one thing, I, I, I did get to see was the other America. And a lot of white people don't get to see that America, and they don't know that it's there. And I don't see it like a black person because I'm white, but I saw it, bro. And and that changed my life forever, uh, in, in every way, you know. Oh, that's all I say about that. Jesus Christ.

Yeah, let's talk about, like, funk more, because this is something, I mean, you're, you're, you, you definitely are, you what's so-called from what I read is the, what's the East Bay sound, the distinctive East Bay sound and funk drumming in the California scene, you know.

Well, I was in, I had moved to Oakland, uh, and I was playing almost seven, in those days, you had so much work, you played seven nights a week, you worked all the time. We used to sneak out of working, like pretend to be sick because you'd kill yourself, you'd be playing every night. And we made money, man. We, we're young people that own cars and I bought a house and all kinds of stuff, you know. And, um, Paul Jackson, uh, walked into my gig one night. I didn't know him from a can of paint, just some dude that came in and sat down. But he kept staring at me. And so on the break, I went over and I said, "Okay, I know you're a musician because you've been peeping me out all night. My name's Mike Clark." And he said, "Hey, I'm Paul Jackson. He said, uh, I'd love to come up and play." Now, this is an organ band that I had in this club. So I said, "Well, what do you play?" He said, "Well, I'm a bass player, but I can play organ as well." And I said, "Okay, come on. I'm next set." So he came up and he killed on the organ. He wasn't a great organ player, but there was so much blues and so much feeling and so much soul, like this dude was dripping with it. Now, he knocked me out. So I said, "Give me your number before you leave, please." And I, and so that night, I gave him my number and I had a business card. And that night when I got home, back to Oakland, this was out in Walnut Creek somewhere. When I got home that night, he was sitting in my driveway waiting for me. I never met this guy before. And he had some African hashish and a bottle of wine. He said, "Hey, man, I've been waiting for you. Want to hang out?" And I'm like, "You come on in."

And that was the beginning of me and Paul. And, man, we hung out every day for 30 years after that. We became best friends. And it's comparable, inseparable. And, uh, we finally got a place together because both of our girlfriends threw us out. This is true. And so we got, uh, we got a, Paul's father got us a place out in East Oakland. And it became the epicenter for hanging, playing, rehearsing, girlfriends, you know, of eating, you know, where all the musicians were over all the time. So we started a bunch of bands. So, um, but they're all jazz bands. And then Paul, one day, came over with the Fender bass. And he just stuck it in the music room and left it in there for a year. Never went near it because he played the big bass. And one day he picked up the Fender bass and plugged it into an amp. He said, "Play some of that funky stuff you play." So I did. And he played something that was perfect. It went with it. It was a, it was perfect.

And the fun, now, your question about the Oakland sound, it was kind of like these broken display 16th notes. David Garibaldi, a dear friend of mine with Tower of Power, and myself were kind of the guys that made that style well-known. I had my version of it, and he had his. And I didn't do it unless Paul was there. Otherwise, I played jazz. I'm like a real heavy jazz head. I'd be like, "Yeah, that's cool, but I want to play jazz. I want to swing, man."

Next to where we live, there was a barbecue joint called Everett and Jones. And they had just moved up from Georgia. And they were right next door to where we lived. So we'd smell the food coming in every day, and we'd go over there and eat constantly. I'm surprised we didn't have heart attacks because we just ate ribs and potato salad, everything. We're young, you know, we're having fun. Well, Mrs. Jones said, "If you guys record, I'm gonna, if you were gonna advertise on KBLX, which was the soul station in Oakland, and if you record something, we'll feed you free for a month." And we're like, "Oh, yeah, you got it." So we wrote on a napkin while we were waiting for our order. We wrote, because you couldn't sit down there, you had to stand up and wait to get your order. We wrote a tune called "God Make Funky." And people could hear it. And then they started advertising the food on the on KBLX, and you could hear us in the background. And people were calling in saying, "What's that song?" And they liked the song. So it became, so we recorded it later with the Headhunters and sold 100,000 records. And it became one of the most sampled drum loops in hip-hop. Probably not anymore, but for a while, everybody, every DJ had to have that loop. And, uh, so, um, oops.

So that's what, uh, happened with the, uh, with the funk thing. And then, uh, me and Paul are doing that. But then I'm really, I'm playing with a guy named Vince Guaraldi, and I'm playing with Bobby Hutcherson and Woody Shaw. So I'm ensconced in this jazz thing. So Paul Jackson gets a gig with Herbie Hancock. And I'm elated for him. I'm like, "Wow, that's fantastic." And he says, "Yeah, but we're gonna play funk." And I'm like, "Who cares? Herbie Hancock, gee." So I mean, like, you know, play whatever, play whatever he wants to. So Harvey Mason did the first record. And then he had such a lucrative studio career that he didn't want to go on the road for $300 a week or something like that. So Herbie called me on Paul's recommendation. And I've been talking to Hancock on the phone quite a bit anyway, because he was calling to talk to Paul over to the house, and Paul was never home. So I'd end up talking to Herbie for hours. And he's a hell of a conversationalist. Talk about anything, Muhammad Ali, boxing, cars, whatever, and jazz, the whole mind, Tony Williams, Elvin, whatever you feel like. A great guy. And so he said, uh, "Well, I hear you play your own style of funk." And I'm like, "Well, I don't know. You. Why don't you play with me and see what you think?" So he did, and he hired me, you know what I mean? That's the story, you know.

And so, uh, I went on the road with him and I stayed in that band for, I think, four years. But then, uh, my, my desire to play jazz was overriding my desire to be in that band. And they were getting more commercial and more straight and more straight. And very soon, I was just playing a two and four backbeat with no singer. You know, I'm backing up. I felt like I was, I didn't like it at this point. I loved it when I first got in. We were playing "Actual Proof" and all this like challenging music. And then it became like a Top 40 gig, kind of swipe. I had to get out of there, you know.

Well, you know, uh, talk a little bit about more about, uh, Herbie, because, you know, such a unique guy. I mean, uh, came up doing his stuff in the '60s, some of those recordings, and the whole watermelon thing, play with Miles, and then start going in this, uh, electric fusion direction, especially with all those keyboards back then. Those are huge instruments. You gotta have all those, uh, things. He must have been carrying all of that with him. But, uh, yeah, eventually went into more of that, uh, more, uh, pop type of sound, which probably is not so jazz, interesting, you know.

Well, he's, uh, he's an amazing guy. First of all, he's a champion of humanity. He really is. He's the most amazing. He's a genius on, and he's accessible. He's funny as hell. He's fun, you know. And, uh, the hang is great. He's smart. And, uh, and, uh, he's a great guy. He's a great guy. So it was fun being with him. I liked being with him more than I did playing the music he was playing because I wanted to play jazz too. But, um, I think what happened to him, in my, uh, estimation, would be that he ran out of money with his Mwandishi. Couldn't afford to keep the band on the road. And he already had a lot of that equipment from his experience with that band, because he was using the Moog ring modulator and the, this, and the Rhodes. And, you know, and, um, so, um, I think, and he, from Fat Albert also, he was kind of leaning towards, he liked funky music. He liked Sly. He loved James Brown. So he was, I think he, uh, it was timely for him because I think he wanted to make this move. And I mean, this guy had played all those great records he made on as a leader and a sideman. And then the Miles stuff, having that behind him at 20, at 30 years old, he wanted to do something different. He didn't want to go back and repeat the Blue Note stuff like everybody wanted, you know. He'd done it all. And he wanted, he's the kind of guy that he keeps moving. Maybe not in the direction people would like to see him go, but he keeps moving, you know. And I think, uh, um, it served him well, man. He had a bunch of hit records. And, and, uh, it changed his life.

Yeah. Now, when, I mean, I bet you didn't think about it at the time, but now a lot of those, uh, videos on YouTube, "Actual Proof," all that stuff, probably, you probably might not even know they were filming. But now that's like, uh, those, those videos have millions of views. And that is complicated music. I've played some of that stuff on electric. Paul was doing, you know. And you, on on drums, like, uh, are that, that even though, like, yes, you are equally established jazz player, I think the funk thing kind of got you a whole different audience with like, people and like these drum shops and drum drum camps and such, you know. But, um, didn't see that one coming.

You know, but it did. But, um, I liked what we did on "Thrust." I liked what the band was doing the first couple of years because we were experimenting and trying to find something different, new. We were challenging ourselves and each other. But then I could see that it was starting to become a commercial, uh, type of organization, and I was starting to become unhappy, you know. And I, I was young. I wanted to play. I mean, I don't care, even if you're playing with a guy who's famous, you want to do your thing. You want people to know who you are musically, you know. But yes, it was a completely rewarding experience on a million levels, not just musically, all the way around. It was like an unbelievable, fantastic, you know.

Well, you know, as a, as a drummer, as a jazz drummer, I mean, uh, man, like you, you work extensively with so many diverse names on hundreds of recordings, you know, uh, Woody Shaw, Tony Bennett, John Scofield, Nicholas Payton, Billy Childs, Donald Harrison, Chris Potter, Eddie Henderson, Lonnie Smith Jr. Man, uh, talk about some of some of these names. Who, who are some of your favorite, uh, jazz musicians to, to have played with over, over your, uh, extensive career?

Well, two come to mind right away. One would be Eddie Henderson, who's a dear friend of mine and and a marvelous musician. And Eddie hears everything. He hears the whole picture. So you don't have to worry about copying for him. He doesn't need you to help him. He's, he's already there, you know. When he, before he even takes the stage, he's there. Uh, he's wonderful. And also Donald Harrison, uh, is, uh, a brilliant artist. And he's got so much soul and funk in him that it's, it's crazy. I mean, and, and, uh, and he's also understands Charlie Parker, the schematic, the harmonically, he's very advanced. He can address anything at any time. And he's one of my favorite artists to play with and people to be with. I, I don't know this guy very well, but I played a gig the, uh, with, uh, Wayne Scoffery, and George Cables was on the gig. And I was really, really, uh, spiritually lifted real high by George's playing. Uh, it knocked me out because he plays all of this magnificent stuff, but it's all inside the groove. It's all in the swing. It's all inside the collage. It's a conversation. It's just amazing. Uh, I love playing with, uh, the bassist Gerald Cannon. Cannon and Essiet, Essiet. I think they're marvelous players. Um, uh, uh, there's a guitarist here named Jack Wilkins, who many people know, well-known guitarist. He's one of the best jazz musicians I've ever worked with. Just, he, it's crazy what he hears and the place that you can visit with him. Um, uh, I, um, I love, well, I, I played with Woody Shaw when I was young, but I really dug playing with. He's a drummer's trumpet player. You can play all the drums you want behind that guy, and there's not gonna be a problem, you know what I mean? Like he's got that kind of fire. And plus, he was an interesting guy to hang with. Um, I love all those guys, man. I mean, I, I can't think, there's not too many people that I don't like to play with, especially out of the names you just, uh, mentioned. Um, uh, I just, uh, have been, I recorded, I'm on Eddie's new record, "Shuffle and Deal," which is, I see it's number three on the charts right now on the Jazz Weekly charts. And that's with Donald, Gerald Cannon, myself, and Kenny Barron. Oh, Kenny Barron's another guy. I don't know well, but I played maybe four or five gigs with him. But man, sure.

Oh, yeah. Well, you know, yeah, you're talking about some of the, the real greats. I mean, you, you're quite a humble guy. I mean, you're not gonna push yourself, uh, to us. But for us young guys, I mean, when you do the extensive research on drummer Mike Clark, man, you played on so many legendary recordings. What would be your advice to young, young drummers who want to follow in your footsteps of being a successful drummer, you know?

Well, provided that COVID lets up and that we have an America left when all of this goes one way or the other, I would say that, uh, play with practicing is great. Drumming technique is fun. Coordination, all that. It's challenging and it's like an athletic, almost. It's fun. I like it. But my favorite thing is playing with human beings, playing with the band. So I say, get all the experience you can playing with a, a band and playing with people, whether it's even if it's not in the club for money, wherever. That's where you find out what you can do and what you can't do. That's the proving ground right there. And that's how you learn how to blend and swing and get funky and, excuse me, and play, you know. That's where it goes down. It's the practice room is great and having chops is great. I'm, I, I got my drum set here, I shed. But playing with the cat, playing with the band, that's it. So I say, get as much band as you can.

Well, I mean, uh, you're coming actually up on on your birthday, 74th birthday now. And, uh, you, you lived in one of the greatest periods of music. So much great music happened at that time. And, um, so, from what I gathered, and I, you said you didn't take much lessons. Talk about, uh, now about jazz education and music education in general, because, so you come from more of a, uh, doing it on the gig kind of scene, whereas now young players, there's not enough gigs for that, so they go to music schools in that aspect.

Well, I think it's fantastic. I, I know a lot of guys talk bad about music schools, or feel, uh, one where I hear, you know, different to me. I wish I could have gone because you're going to learn to read, you're going to have a chance to play with people all the time in those classrooms, you know, and you're going to be around a lot of your peers, like, you know. Uh, so, um, that wasn't there. There was only a few music schools when I was coming up, you know. And, and I could have gone to, uh, a college in Sacramento that would let me play with the band, but it was like, uh, it was the band was terrible. The band was terrible, and they didn't play jazz. And I was already working and making a living. And, you know, I'm like, "Nah." So, uh, but one thing I had in my environment was all these great drummers. I would go every, every chance I could. Lenny White was a friend of mine. I'd go hear him every chance I could. I'd go hear Philly Joe, Max Roach, you know, I, I'm not gonna, obviously, Elvin and Tony, everybody, every chance I could. And then I'd try to meet them and talk to them, Mark Blakey, all of them, and try to, uh, glean something about what they were doing. And each guy would eventually tell me a little something that helped me understand what, where they were coming from as artists and what they were doing. Because, uh, um, uh, most of those guys told me to be sure and have my own style. Don't, they'd say, "You can take some of my licks, but don't try to be me. You know, you gotta be you." And, uh, but, yeah, I, I think music education, what's wrong with that, you know? The more you can learn, the better. But, but still, um, the playing, no matter what degree you have on the wall or anything, playing jazz music, that's the way you find out how. That's where the rubber. Many artists that can say it better than I can, but they don't have the experience to play it, you know, with confidence. It takes a lifetime. I'm still trying how to play, man. We all are. I don't care how famous the guy is or how much he talks, everybody's still trying to learn to play better. We're trying to grow, right?

Yeah, yeah. Let me fight David Garibaldi, Michael Shrieve, and Greg Errico from Sly and His Family Stone, the great drummers. Michael from Santana, Lenny, of course. And David Garibaldi from Tower. Myself, we're, uh, recording through, uh, on Zoom. And we call ourselves The Stick People. And we're telling our stories and telling what made us play the way we did, who politically what was going on, the climate around the Bay Area. And although Lenny, and we're looking when we have people helping us, uh, to turning it into an episodic, uh, show of some kind. We're talking to Netflix and all these people. And I, the other vlog I want to put in for myself is Leon Lee Dorsey, the great bassist. Michael Wolff, the great piano player, who I've been playing with forever. And myself have a record out now called "Wolf, Clark, and Dorsey Play Sergeant Pepper." And I just, when I looked at Eddie Henderson's record on the charts, I see that ours just came in at number 40. So we're climbing up there. We, and we played Beatles tunes, but straight ahead and swinging, you know.

Uh, yeah. This gorgeous, the girlfriend of mine, right? She was so fine, you damn near to fight cats off on the street, right? And everybody wanted to go out with her. She was completely a knockout. And she, some reason, she just liked me. And she liked the drumming and all this kind of thing. She didn't know who Miles Davis was or anything like that. She wasn't a music person. But she was a beautiful woman, ridiculous. So where Miles is getting ready to open for Herbie Hancock. And, um, so we're doing a show somewhere. And I'm, Herbie was a playful guy, so you could sneak into it. We were all young, you know. I'm 26. So you could sneak into his dressing room and try to tackle him or something, or, you know, like some kind of silly stuff. We always goofed around. So I come in with my girlfriend, and I open the door real fast because I'm going to try to do something crazy with Hancock. And Miles Davis is sitting on the couch. And I'm like, "Damn, there's Miles Davis." Geez. And he's got like a hat down with the brim down like this. And he has this, uh, real hip-looking leather bag. And and he's smoking a cigarette, you know. And I'm like, "Wow." And, you know, Hancock can talk very hip. He can talk so hip, you gotta think about what it is he just said to you sometimes. But he can also talk really square and collegiate. And you, you know, he, he says all kinds of different stuff, whatever bag he's in at that moment. So he says to Miles Davis in this voice, he goes, "Miles, this is my drummer, Mike Clark, and his lovely girlfriend, B." Her name was B. And I'm like, "Holy, you know, that's that, nah." And and, uh, and so Miles looks at me and he's like, he's like, just like he checks me out, you know. And then he looks at her, he's checking. And then he looks and then he goes like this. [Laughter] I said, "Man, that's not quite how I wanted this to go when I met Miles Davis, you know what I mean?" But it's a funny story.

And then later on, I, uh, we played opposite each other. But he was bugged because he had to open for Herbie. He didn't care for that at all. Because in his mind, and I can dig it, he felt like, "Well, I discovered this dude, and now I'm opening for him." But Herbie had sold so many records, you know. And then, uh, one other time, uh, we were playing the show, and it was me and Paul and Herbie playing, uh, at this one part of this tune. And it, it got so funky, I couldn't believe it. I don't even know what was going on, man. I mean, it was otherworldly, man. And it was going down, and it was like, it's like happening to you, you're not doing it, it's doing you. You're just like, "Oh, man." You know, it's ridiculous, man. Especially when Hancock fires it up, forget it. That's the top of the world. From game over, man. Seriously. And Paul, oh my god. So, man, I got my foot deep in it, like we're doing it. And, and I'm, I'm moving, you know, I'm taking it all in and playing. And I just have to look up, you know. And there's some, somebody on the stage. I don't know, I can't, my eyes are loud. I've always been poor, not, you know. So I'm like, I, I think it's maybe some roadie out there doing, you know, doing something. So playing, and the guy moves in closer. And we're really getting funky now. I'm on the cymbal, man. We're doing it, you know. And it's Miles Davis. And he's doing this wicked dance that almost looks like, do you know what stop-time animation is? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Where they're shooting it like clay animation. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And his movement is almost like stop-time animation. It's the funkiest, wickedest dance I've ever seen a cat do. It was on. It was unearthly. I was like, "Jeez, what, oh my god." And then he comes kind of sort of near the floor tom. And he looks at me and Paul and he goes, "You, you funky ass, you." And then he dances off the stage. And I'm like, I'm like, "What the, was that?" You know, like, so anyway, I'm like, "Wow." And we do the show. And, uh, I go back upstairs into the dressing room. And, uh, we all had an, uh, and Herbie says to me, man, you know, uh, "I think Miles was really feeling you and Paul up there, man. Did you check that out?" And I went, "Yeah, I did." You know. And so then, and then like a jerk, I knew that him and Herbie had been at odds with each other a little bit and not getting along so great. So I tried to make it so in the most square, collegiate voice that I have, I go, "Oh, Herbie, he really liked you too." And Herbie goes, "Get the out of my dressing room." You gotta tell me about it. Wow. And Paul was like, "Ah, you know what I mean?" I got back anyway. It was funny as hell. I had a lot of, yeah.

I think, I mean, I figured I would ask the story about Miles because, you know, I, I always grew up listening to it like "Kind of Blue" and stuff. But my dad told me he saw Miles in Hawaii when he lived in Hawaii, the Aloha Bowl. And Miles, uh, played the whole time with his back to the audience. So I always had that impression of him. Then later, I took a class with Lewis Porter at Rutgers, all about Miles Davis and all that, all those intricacies. You know, we read the autobiography. And so, yeah, he definitely developed that kind of, uh, that that aura about him, that legend, Miles Davis. But yeah, that's an incredible, to me, to so many times for all of us, man. He did.

So, I mean, I can't even imagine what, what he was thinking. He was so advanced, you know. I was like, one of my huge heroes, you know. I didn't really get to know him, but at least I had those couple of little cool interactions with him that are funny as hell to tell, you know. What, I was, I was so young, I didn't understand, uh, everything that I was dealing with, you know what I mean? I was just this young dude, and it was just like, "Wow." I tell my friends back home, and they had no idea what they were like, "Wow."

You know, I kind of know exactly what you're talking about when you talk about like, kind of getting so funky and going out and like, it's almost like the music is playing itself. That's like, it's almost a meditative thing. Uh, man, I saw you guys playing "Actual Proof" on that YouTube video. And man, it goes out, like especially when Herbie's doing, uh, that harmonic stuff that goes out. Man, you guys are probably living on it in a different plane of existence while that's happening, you know.

Point. Every night when you'd go to work, you were ready to visit that place and take it a step farther. After a while, I wasn't even sure if Hancock was playing the form, but I'd make the hits anyway. But he was really stretching it out, man. Wow. You know, um, he just seemed to want to break the rules and break barriers, you know. He was this kind of guy. He couldn't be contained. He refused to be contained, you know. He's a great cat, man, you know.

Like, well, you know, uh, Mike, thanks for doing this. Before we finish up, the final question, like, uh, you lived such a long experience with, uh, so many of these guys aren't around anymore. Um, now you are reaching to your elder age. What, what would you say, how, how do you feel about that? Like, you know, some of your peers have passed already. Um, how do you keep them, keep going and keep the flame going, you know?

Well, I feel like, um, uh, except for this little health setback that I just had, I basically feel like I did when I was 20. So I, I, I, I do. I mean, you know, I, if it wasn't for the fact that I had this kidney stone, when I could still play baseball, you know what I mean? I can, I mean, it's like, you know. And so, okay, uh, I, we all know how great Buster Williams is, you know, and what a giant he is. And look at all he's done. Oh my goodness. And I was, uh, hearing him with his band with Lenny White and George Colligan and Steve Wilson a while back. And I remember feeling funny about saying this to Buster, but I said, "Man, you're, I think you're improving. You're already at the top of the world." So I'm, it's not a left-handed compliment, but I said, "You're sound." And I mean, I stayed an extra set just to listen to him because he was what he was doing. So I think if you can live the, the, uh, the older you get, we're not like baseball players. You're at 45, you could be through, you know what I mean? Or football, for sure, you know what I mean? You're a boxer, you know. Um, uh, but so if we could stay alive and take care of ourselves, we can continue to grow as artists and grow as human beings. That's what I think. I think the reason people practice and and is because they're trying to polish their inner world. We, of course, it seems like you want your drumming to be great, but we want us to be great people. We want to open our lives up and be beautiful and and love people and and give a gift. I don't want to take anything from anybody. If I can make a contribution, I'm down. I'm really down to do that. If that's possible. And, um, so I think we keep getting better at being humans. We keep, we learn more compassion and tolerance. And, and, uh, um, and I think we improve as artists as well. My hands, my chops are as is better than they ever were. And I think I'm growing as an artist. Still, this COVID thing kind of stopped all of us in our tracks. So now, but I'm still thinking about it all the time, you know. Uh, and I think you try to, uh, what I, um, polish the inside of your life so that your, uh, communications with others is pure. So it's right from the universe into, you know what I mean? Like, you know, like, uh, um, something like that, you know, while still being able to have a beer and have some fun and have a good time.

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