The Sound and the Glory

Jazz Drum prodigy Justin Faulkner is ready for the big time.

by Shaun Brady

Photos By: Mark Stehle

Onstage at the Montreal Jazz Festival in July, Branford Marsalis cracked a joke and wheeled around, surprised, when drummer Justin Faulkner punctuated it with a rimshot.

It seems that during Faulkner's first gig as the new drummer in the Branford Marsalis Quartet — which just happened to coincide with his 18th birthday — one of the bandleader's wisecracks was met by silence from the stage.

"Where's the rimshot?" Marsalis had asked, only to be met with a confused shrug. Referencing vaudeville only helped to muddy the situation. On the stage in Montreal, Marsalis shook his head. "He's young," he said with a grin, "But he's getting it together now."

He may be only 18, but Faulkner has had several years to get it together. He played his first gig professionally at 13, when bassist Jamaaladeen Tacuma hired him for a weekly spot at Café Harlem in Yeadon, Pa. By that time he'd already been playing the drums for more than a decade, ever since his mother brought an Ohio Arts "Rock the World" toy kit (and a new set of pots and pans, to replace the one belonging to his grandmother that the infant drummer had destroyed) back to their West Philly home near 51st and Baltimore.

"I think I had it for about a week," Faulkner recalls, "and I beat through the heads."

Perhaps it was at that moment that he was destined to succeed Jeff "Tain" Watts in the Marsalis Quartet, given his predecessor's reputation as a percussion powerhouse. "Assuming the position in the Branford Marsalis Quartet was scary at first, because Tain is probably one of the most powerful drummers I've ever heard in my life," Faulkner says. "Tain used to pile-drive through that music."

Watts, 49, had been in the legendary saxophonist's band since 1988 — three years before Faulkner was born.

By: Mark Stehle

Sitting in a conference room on the fourth floor of the Clef Club on Broad Street, Justin Faulkner is soft-spoken and articulate, seeming far more mature than your average teenager — perhaps predictably so, given his already impressive list of accomplishments. Even aside from the Marsalis gig, which will bring him to the Newport Jazz Festival this weekend in Rhode Island, he's played with numerous jazz notables — some of them several multiples of his own age — including Orrin Evans, Bootsie Barnes, the Mingus Big Band, Jimmy Heath and Bobby McFerrin. He's the drummer of choice for actor/singer Terrence Howard, and was recently named one of five jazz drummers to watch by critic Ben Ratliff in The New York Times. And at the end of this month, he'll be heading off to Berklee College of Music in Boston.

But Faulkner is no old-soul misfit; a few minutes earlier, in the Clef Club office, the 18-year-old shone through the professional musician's façade. Running into friends, he waved off some who were teasing about his outfit — a combo of gray T-shirt, purple sneakers, and yellow sunglasses — while simultaneously fielding text messages.

"I've been on the jazz scene since I was 13," Faulkner says, "so now I'm used to handling myself a certain way. Playing with these guys made me mature a lot faster than some of my friends, which seemed a little weird to them but it helped me out a lot."

Faulkner was given an ensemble to instruct for the first time at last month's Clef Club Summer Jazz Camp, composed of advanced students not much younger, albeit with much less experience, than their teacher.

"A lot of kids forget that he's still 18," says Lovett Hines, the Clef Club's director of music education and one of Faulkner's mentors. "He has a special dialogue with his peers, because they look up to him but he's also one of them. But when I talk with him, he's playing with text messages and getting enthusiastic about girlfriends or his computer."

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Faulkner first laid eyes on a drummer at the church he attended with his parents in West Philly. Not that there was any shortage of music in the house: His mother and grandmother were classical pianists, his father a vocalist, and his grandfather had been in the Navy drum and bugle corps. But young Justin, barely old enough to walk, began banging on anything that would make a sound.

"When I heard Justin, I heard that he was born to do what he was doing," says Philly piano titan Orrin Evans, another of Faulkner's mentors. "He wasn't playing because his mom or dad told him to. He was playing because he was born to play."

Finding his calling in church, Faulkner was given not only an instrument but a purpose in playing it. "God is the main powering force behind everything that I'm doing," he says. He points to fellow drummer Kendrick Scott, who inscribes a prayer onto each of his drumsticks: "Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Thy Peace."

"That's basically my whole philosophy," says Faulkner. "I'm just trying to make sure I'm doing whatever I have to do in order for His message to be sent out to people. It's a blessing for me to be able to do this."

In the beginning, it was gospel music that most attracted Faulkner's attention, and he continues to perform in church today. He also listened to rap and hip-hop; jazz, he says, "had no relevance to me."

But classical music had even less relevance, it seems. Faulkner began his formal training at Settlement Music School, first through a program at his elementary school and continuing via a Settlement scholarship. When his instructor recognized that he had no interest in classical playing, she transferred him to Samuel Ruttenberg, who Faulkner counts as the first major musical mentor in his life. Through him, Faulkner began listening to the players who would become his primary influences.

"I heard Elvin Jones play, and it scared me," Faulkner recalls. "Then I heard Art Blakey play and tried to compare the two, and that's how I determined what swing was."

Ruttenberg not only introduced Faulkner to jazz music, but lectured him about his commitment.

"I was really stubborn," Faulkner admits. "I hated practicing. I played whatever I wanted, but I would never practice what I was supposed to. Eventually Mr. Ruttenberg got down on me and said, 'You're going to be terrible unless you practice.' And it just hit me."

The lesson stuck, as it was his dedication that made Faulkner stand out in the eyes of those who would become his most important teachers.

Lovett Hines has seen a number of future jazz superstars come through his program at the Clef Club, including bassist Christian McBride, saxophonist Jaleel Shaw, organist Joey DeFrancesco and singer Bilal Oliver. In all of them, Hines has recognized certain traits that also appeared shortly after Faulkner enrolled in the program at the age of 14.

"One thing that I've found that those kids had in common," Hines says, "is that they were always conscientious — always at every rehearsal, never complaining about whatever we wanted them to do, never boastful. If there was another drummer on the scene, Justin was willing to share. And the thing that really struck me about Justin was his historical knowledge of the music. He's really a student of the music."

Evans began working with Faulkner not long after he enrolled at the Clef Club. At the time, Evans was leading the Rohm and Haas Jazz Ensemble, an inelegantly named group at Settlement saddled with the moniker of one of the school's major sponsors. Faulkner's mother called Evans and, needing a drummer, he invited the high school freshman to try out.

"Honestly, I haven't seen that type of talent and dedication on the high school level in Philadelphia in a long time," Evans says. "When I was coming up, there was McBride, Joey DeFrancesco, The Roots — the musicianship was on a different level and most of those people are still playing. But when I started teaching, I noticed that things had changed. They just weren't as naturally talented or as dedicated as the generation before. So when I met Justin it was refreshing."

It has been Evans, Faulkner insists with raised eyebrows, who has been hardest on him. "I would finish playing and he would say, 'You sounded OK.' I would be sitting there saying, 'I thought I killed.' And he'd just say, 'No, not at all, bro.' It was cool, because it kept my head level and also made me think that maybe I haven't reached my peak yet. Maybe there's some other things I could learn."

"The reality was, I knew he was going to be picked up really quickly," Evans says. "Everybody was going to tell him he was great. I wasn't going to sit there and stroke his ego at 15 like everyone else. Forget being more talented than the other 15-year-olds; you need to be talented, period. Man, Tony Williams was 17 when he was playing with Jackie McLean and Miles Davis. Christian McBride was 18 playing with tons of people. So that didn't really impress me. That's why I was hard on him."

For years, Faulkner has been hailed with the inordinate praise that greets all child prodigies. "My trademark used to be '13-year-old Justin Faulkner,' or '14-year-old Justin Faulkner,'" he says. "But I always had to think of myself not just as the 13-year-old kid who everybody's going to treat nicely. At this point, I'm in a realm with a bunch of musicians who are old enough to be my grandfather."

In Evans' eyes, Faulkner has come a long way toward disavowing the age-related qualifiers. "I don't consider him 18 anymore. He's already stepped into a man's world — he's got a man's gig, with Branford. He's gonna spend too much money on iPhones and sneakers and have to deal with overweight luggage at the airport — all of that will show that he's 18. But musically, he's a drummer to me."

In an interview in the May 2008 issue of DownBeat magazine, Branford Marsalis recalled recruiting bassist Eric Revis into his quartet back in 1996. "[He was] raw as hell, but he won me over with his determination and desire."

Thirteen years later, he might very well use the same words about his new drummer. "I first heard him playing with a high school band that was, admittedly, not too good," Marsalis recounted via e-mail. "But I was surprised at his ability to keep time and swing, and not try to call attention to himself."

Faulkner recalled that incident, head in hands. He was playing with a group of friends as part of a student chamber music program in the summer of 2007. "Everybody in my band forgot the music and couldn't remember the arrangements. So we winged it. And I was playing on a practice drum set that sounded like a bunch of trash cans. I was just trying to keep the band together so Branford wouldn't stop us. Afterward, he went down the line and told everyone what they did wrong, and I was just sitting there shaking and sweating. And he gets to me and says, 'Good job, kid.' I think my chest was probably about 12 feet out."

Three weeks later, he got a call to sit in for Watts in San Antonio that October. Earlier this year, the spot became his permanently, before he'd even finished high school. His final semester was spent on the road, cutting short post-show celebrations to finish his homework. He returned home just in time for prom and graduation.

"I have no qualms with age," Marsalis says. "Just maturity. I've played with musicians who are much older, yet behave much younger on an emotional level. Mature young players have a desire to learn, and they bring instant energy to a bunch of old fogies like us."

Faulkner faces the daunting task of filling the shoes of someone with whom the leader has had a long relationship and friendship. Watts finally left the Quartet only when his opportunities as a leader became too demanding to continue as a sideman. In that DownBeat article last May, Marsalis was already anticipating the departure. "I leave them an option to quit if they don't think it's right," he said of his bandmates. "If Tain starts getting a lot of gigs with his band, and that's what he wants, how can I fault him?"

Marsalis simply shrugs off comparisons between his old and new drummers. "When someone new enters the band, it becomes a new band. Given Tain's experience and greatness, comparing someone Justin's age to him is not only pointless, but also musically irresponsible. Justin is similar in potential to what we were when we were his age, although I must admit, we weren't nearly as precocious as The Kid."

But with all of these

luminaries pushing him to excel, one influence stands out. "My mom is probably my biggest influence aside from God," Faulkner says. "I wouldn't be where I am if it hadn't been for her. She's my backbone."

He credits his mother with three mottos that he continues to live by: Everything will always be OK (a testament both to faith and to their mother-son bond); always do things like it's your last time doing them; and everything will happen in God's time.

On her part, Carol Faulkner faces her son's success with the conflicting attitudes of proud parent and clinging mother. "First and foremost, I don't want him to go," she laughs regarding his imminent departure for Berklee, while cooking his Sunday dinner. "I'm going to miss him tremendously. But I hope that he gets what he wants out of the experience and can continue to do what he needs to for his musical life and his life and general. Whatever he does, I'll support him to the fullest. I'm just hoping that I can keep up with him."

Looking forward to studying with drummer Ralph Peterson Jr. at Berklee, Faulkner appears to have a promising future in jazz. He's quick to point out, however, that his open-mindedness may lead down other paths.

"I'll play anything that has a beat. Music is music to me, and I try to incorporate it all into my playing in some way while still being true to the tradition. If it's God's will, I just want to be a part of music until I leave this Earth. As long as that happens, I'm pretty sure I'll be OK."

(editorial@citypaper.net)

Justin Faulkner will perform Tue., Aug. 25, 8 p.m., $3, at Chris' Jazz Cafe weekly jazz jam with vibraphonist Tony Miceli's trio, 1421 Sansom St., 215-568-3131, chrisjazzcafe.com.