TT 525: Thoughts on Aloysius T. Foster

Guest post by Doug Weiss

(I saw Al Foster’s band many times; it was always great and Doug Weiss was always on bass. Thanks very much to Doug for sharing his memories. — e.i.)

I will speak of him in the present. First off, he never says goodbye on the phone. He is a bit superstitious. He won’t pick money up off the floor, or say goodbye. Never goodbye, always “aight,” or “ok.” The last word he said to me, on May 25, 2025, was “OK.” Click.

We shared Love, Regret and Forgiveness, and Tears.

He plays in tempo on his ride with this rubato dialogue going on underneath, rolling between the two tom-toms with one hand. (I actually had my luthier make a two-headed stick for him.) He holds the sticks in an unorthodox way, not using his right thumb as a fulcrum like many drummers do. He says that he doesn’t really practice rudiments, and it is well known that he can’t read. (I got him a sight reading book and a metronome once for his birthday, because he asked me to, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t get that deep into that book.) He always places a small towel between the beater and the bass drum head.

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As he got older, he had a bit less facility, but made up for that with poetic creativity, and—unlike many drummers—he got softer dynamically.

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Al Foster was part of my musical life for as long as I can remember. I first heard him with Miles in 1982, during the The Man With the Horn tour. The next summer he returned to Chicago with Sonny Rollins.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would become his bassist, then his straw boss, and eventually “half chief.” On his 2019 album Inspirations & Dedications, Al included a song written for me, “Douglas.”

Milt Hinton used to call drummers “section,” as in “rhythm section.” Great sections include Jo Jones and Walter Page, Jimmy Blanton and Sonny Greer, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones, Sam Jones and Louis Hayes, Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins, Ron Carter and Tony Williams, Buster Williams and Billy Hart.

Al has had plenty of dance partners over the years; Ron, Charlie, Buster, Sam, Wilbur Ware, George Mraz, Peter Washington, Larry Grenadier. I am proud to say that I am on that list and am not shy about saying that “we” as a section were on that list. Billy Drummond once commented after hearing a set of Al’s band at the Vanguard: “What you guys have is really special. The way you communicate its on another level.”

I agree. Part of that initially was extreme deference on my part. I knew that I was lucky to be there with him, but also that he needed me to hold the center. He needed my beat and notes. And I was a very good student; I noticed how he heard “around the corner,” and I realized that the most important gift you can give a band was your presence, and hyper-awareness of what was happening. Before that comes the preparation, the listening, the study. Then on stage you forget all of that.

Time and again I watched as he sat down at the drums, just as if he was dropped into this human form for the first time. He would combine sounds, gradually moving around the kit, checking distances, adjusting the cymbal stands…before anything else he was calling to the muses, the ancestors whom he greatly admired…Imagine a 15 year old Al, peeking around the corner as A.T. arrived home after a long night of playing…(A.T. Lived next door to Al in Harlem)…imagine young Aloysius cutting class to go to the Apollo Theatre to hear Miles, Coltrane, Cannon, Brubeck… Imagine him watching Buddy Rich and Philly Joe drum battle, Buddy's left arm in a cast…Imagine, one of his first bands ever was a Trio with Larry Willis and Eddie Gomez, they were 16 years old…Imagine him playing with Blue Michell when he was 19…Blue wanted to record the band but it took him 2 years to convince Alfred Lion to hire Chick!

Alfred vibed Al on that first record, but he got over it. One night when they were playing “Fungii Mama,” Al found a beat that Blue liked so much that Blue stopped the band and said, “Play it like that every time.”

Al played the Worlds’ Fair in 1964 with Illinois Jacquet. Jacquet used to get drunk and get up in Al’s cake and say, “The bass drum is the biggest drum. Hit that M.F.!” And also, “I give Bird $2 and then burn on his ass!” He used to take his entire drum set on the subway. He got the gig at the Playboy club with Kai Winding in 1967 and that gig kept him in beans and allowed him to support his young family: Simone, Monique, Michelle, and Kierra.

Miles heard Al at the Cellar Club in Harlem in 1972, randomly stopping in after Blue Mitchell’s run had been extended another week. That one night got him the gig of a lifetime.

(A surprise highlight of 21st-century gigs by the Al Foster quartet was a mellow version of “Jean-Pierre,” which Foster had played in stadiums with Miles Davis; it appears twice on the double album We Want Miles. In a small club, Foster didn’t need to hit hard to deliver immense groove. The other members of the quartet in this stellar video are Eli Degibri, Kevin Hays, and Doug Weiss. — e.i.)

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My early years with Al offer a snapshot of the jazz life.

I met Al on a 1993 Chris Potter record date for Criss Cross, Sundiata. Al did not make it to the rehearsal. But he turned up at the studio and proceeded to play the music like he wrote it. I recall him looking under his cymbal while I was playing a solo on “Body and Soul,” and smiling at me. My heart skipped a beat. He liked me!

Then about a year later I was asked to play in trio with he and Chris Potter at the Parkside Lounge on Houston Street. I flew in from a gig in Finland that same day, unpacked my bass in Brooklyn, showered, and showed up early and set up and warmed up. When Al arrived he was in a little bit of a beef with the cab driver. The guy wanted to charge him $15 for a 3 block ride, and Al wasn’t having it. His son Brandyn was with him, who must have been about 10 at the time. Other helping hands appeared, and we got his drums inside and set up.

The very first tune Al called was “Footprints.” So, I started playing the famous bass line, but nobody came in. I was like, “what the fuck?” And Chris kind of chuckled and said “I think he means ‘E.S.P.’” I knew that song also, thank God. And we were off and running. It honestly felt like I might never touch the ground again. Music was so easy to play, there were so many choices and all of them seem to be right.

After the first set I went to the bar and I noticed that there were quite a few bass players hanging around. Word had gotten out that Al was putting a band together, and that maybe he needed a bassist. One of them asked me if they could sit in. I said no. There was no way I was gonna let Al hear anyone else. Fuck that! I had a strong feeling that the opportunity was for me, and I knew it might be the only chance I would get. After the gig, Al said, “You have nice notes. I’m gonna call you.” That seemed to me a good omen, because I think having nice notes is something a band leader might need.

A couple of weeks later he called and asked, “What’s the least amount of money you’re willing to go to Europe, for one week?” I said, $1000, He said, “Solid, you got it,” and hung up. That was how it all started.

I sat next to Al on our flight from JFK to Frankfurt. He told me about all the bass players he had played with in New York, and why he didn’t like them! After listening to that for a while, I asked him, “Who are your favorite bassists?” He had a nice list for me. He loved playing with Charlie Haden, George Mraz, Ron Carter, and Buster Williams. And he loved my friend Larry Grenadier.

And then he said “hopefully, you!” He explained to me that he had done a short tour with Renee Rosnes, Chris Potter, and Larry. He told me that he cried because he realized he could never keep a band like that together. They were all destined for big things.

So, I knew that I had some big shoes to fill. I would really need to take care of business. I had learned all of his songs because Dave Kikoski had passed me a book of charts. We had one rehearsal at Al’s place on the lower east side: Al said, “Anyone got anything new?”

Someone asked “Like tunes?”

Al replied “No, ideas…”

I was ready in terms of learning, but there’s another level of ready when you play with people like that. You have to be ready to face the music and dance. Fear does not play any part. Leave your ego at the door and come with strong hands, open ears and an open heart.

We landed in Frankfurt and our driver picked us up and informed us that our first gig was in Berlin, which is a good 6 1/2 hour drive. So we strapped in, and eventually we arrived in front of the A-Trane club, late. We had to set up in front of a packed house of mildly irritated clients.

Then we hit. And when I say we hit, I mean we hit it good. Chris looked over at me after his first solo, with a smile as if to say, “Now, you see.”

Through the years I’ve had experiences like that with certain drummers, they just bring the best out of everybody around them. It’s about selflessness, and selfishness at the same time if that makes any sense. Or maybe it’s just being decisive. Just going for it having the courage to make a statement. Al had that and all you needed to do is be prepared to receive and to contribute. He needed people to bring something to the table, not just to wait around for something to happen.

On that tour, we played a concert hall in Prague, and George Mraz was there. I think there’s a video of this concert somewhere. George sat in, playing the first tune of the second set. He had learned Al’s “Brandyn,” and played the melody, super lyrical and just so tasty. I said damn, I gotta follow that? But I stepped to it, and we played the famous “E.S.P.” again. I started to realize that we could start with almost nothing, and then build it through 2, 2.5, 3 over 4, 12/8, fast swing…All those gates were wide open.

We were working every night, and traveling during the day. I had taken the cushion out of my flight case and put it on the floor so one of us could sleep and the other stretch out on the bench.

On the third or fourth day we made Al’s first acoustic record as a band leader, Brandyn for Laika records. There was a misunderstanding about the money, which was not in our favor. But we all wanted it to happen and went to the studio and set up in the evening. I remember feeling that the spirit was really with us when we did our sound check that night, and we were totally ready to knock this out. But the engineer insisted that he wanted to start in the morning. If I had been straw boss then I would’ve put my foot down. We were ready to capture everything in first takes, I just knew it. Al knew it too. This is when I started to realize that we had an understanding/wavelength between us. We heard and felt things kind of the same way.

After the last gig, trio with Dave in Prague, we drove overnight to attempt to catch our return flight from Frankfurt to JFK. Along the way we got stuck at the border, then lost, then stuck in a ditch! We had to take everything out of the back (bass, drum set and suitcases) and get out and push. One of the drivers hurt his hand during this. Once we finally got going everyone dozed off, and I recall waking up and seeing a sign “Frankfurt 100 km” and looking at my watch and realizing we are going to miss the flight.

When we arrived at the airport Al took out a stack of paper (cash) and bought us three tickets on Air India to New York. I think it cost him something like 400 each. I quietly went up to him and gave him 400 bucks, which he took from me, and then folded it over and handed it back. He would remind me of that moment over the years saying, “That’s when I knew you were good people.”

After our final concert someone had given Al a bouquet of flowers. He held onto them, saying that he wanted to give them to his wife Bonnie when he got home. But by the time we boarded that first flight they were wilted. When we got to JFK, he still had the flowers on top of his luggage cart. I turned away. Something caught in my throat, or a speck of dust in my eye…

Thinking about that now makes me sad because it’s a lesson about our intentions in life, and how sometimes the world has other plans for us. Those flowers knew what we did not yet know, which is that tomorrow is not promised.

— Doug Weiss