By Mike
Zwerin International
Herald Tribune, November 1999 Leon Nabatov
was 16 when he volunteered for the Soviet Red Army after
Hitler invaded his native Belarus. After the war, because he
spoke German, he was stationed in Berlin. He met Americans
for the first time. He liked them. He was a music student
and he particularly liked jazz. GI's encouraged him to
defect. One of them said: "You have an American
soul." He wished for
nothing more, but he didn't dare. His family was in the
U.S.S.R. But by now Nabatov's body has caught up with his
soul. A retired choir conductor and pianist, he lives with
his wife, Regina, in the East Village. "Just think," says
their son, Simon, with wonder in his voice and, yes, stars
in his eyes: "My folks live in the hippest part of New York.
And they love it." Simon Nabatov
is a prodigious pianist and composer reaching a new career
plateau. With a Eurojazz and new improvised music
perspective, he invents forms and seeks new links with past
forms. Mainstream and classical influences are evident. Now
40, having grown up with his father's "gorgeous" jazz record
collection, he can play Thelonius Monk, bebop and stride.
People other than musicians are discovering
him. His first
important live listening experience came when he was 12 and
heard Duke Ellington's orchestra in Moscow in 1971. A
resolution to become a jazz musician was confirmed a year
later, when he heard the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band on a tour
of the Soviet Union sponsored by the U.S. State Department.
And by 17 he was playing with musicians he describes as "the
heaviest beboppers in Moscow." A more experienced pianist
had taken ill and Nabatov was getting his calls. He played
the few clubs and festivals that existed back then. And he
remembers nonstop, two-day jam sessions in private
apartments - at cats' pads, as he puts it. His syntax is
classic hipster American. His accent gives his origins away.
The Nabatov family was permitted to leave the Soviet Union
in 1979, during the Brezhnev years. In theory they were on
their way to be reunited with family in Israel. Nabatov
recalls that they had a false document reading something
like "Uncle Moishe is happy to invite you to live with him."
When the plane landed in Vienna,about half of the passengers
took off again for Tel Aviv. The Nabatovs waited for U.S.
visas in Rome. Simon Nabatov,
then 20, had "the time of my life" in Rome: "After being
locked. up in Russia, here I was in this beautiful,
culturally rich town with friendly, free people and good
weather. " He became the house pianist in the Mississippi
Jazz Club, backing up the likes of Chet Baker and Art
Farmer. The veteran clarinetist and longtime Rome resident
Tony Scott befriended, briefed and encouraged him. He
learned standards, worked television shows, went to museums
and sat in the cafes. Finally, the
family settled in Lefrak City in New York - "deep Queens,"
Nabatov calls it. They dug in with determination. There were
no other options. Now he sees how much easier it is for
younger musicians who left after the implosion of the Soviet
Union: "There's less pressure. They haven't been spat on or
shown fingers by Russians who remained. " But maybe in the
end the pressure was better. It toughened him up. He got to
appreciate the music in depth. He had been in the habit of
memorizing every recording that was important to him. A jazz
record was a precious commodity. It seems crazy now, but
being a jazz musician in the U.S.S.R. was a political
statement. Improvising musicians were seen as rejecting the
entire system. "Then I get to America and it means
absolutely nothing," he laughs. "If you say 'I play jazz,'
they say 'So what do you do for a living'?"' Graduating from
the Juilliard School, he played chamber music and
accompanied choirs and former Soviet singing stars touring
the growing circuit of Russian communities in the United
States. He played jazz in big halls and small joints.
Increasingly, he traveled the well-worn round-trip trail to
wider appreciation In Western Europe. Europe permitted him
to make music for more than money. He was a featured sideman
with Perry Robinson, Ray Anderson, Arthur Blythe and Steve
Lacy and he played with the NDR Hamburg radio big band. He
taught at the Folkwang School in Essen. The more time he
spent in Europe the fewer reasons there were to go back to
New York. Ten years ago
he fell in love with a German woman and they settled in
Cologne. He has never returned to Russia. Like his father,
he learned to speak German "quite well," which made him
fluent in three languages ("It's not such a big deal, you do
what you have to do.") He travels on
an American passport. Here in Amsterdam, he performed
"Nature Morte," his adaptation of a text by Joseph Brodsky,
the Russian poet who was expelled by the Soviet rulers. Two
other musicians whom musicians are talking about were in the
front line - the British singer Phil Minton and Nils Wogram,
a German trombonist. Like Nabatov, both are breaking through
to another side. And in another
return to roots, he has recorded - on "Shall We Dance?" (2nd
Floor Records) - "The Good People," his version of
Prokofiev's "Folkdance" from "Romeo and Julia. " He also has
written a suite inspired by Mikhail Bulgakov's novel "The
Master and Margarita." When he was still very young, his
parents had exposed him to Bulgakov. There is no text, the
work connects with the literary inspiration, but the music
can stand on its own. Now the
esoteric Swiss record label Hat
Hut
is planning the release of five Nabatov albums, including
the Brodsky and the Bulgakov. "People are starting to take
notice a bit," he says. "The word out there is, "Hey,
there's this guy with a new voice who has something to
say".
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