Drummer Jimmy Madison at home in Kerhonkson (photography by AJ Lee)

As a New York immigrant, jazz is the music of dreams for me: it is the soundtrack of classic Manhattan movies and the literal sound you hear on the subway station at West 4th Street. It is the stale corners and sticky tables in Blue Note, and the twinkly skyline behind the stage at Dizzy’s. It can make any venue or person cooler by osmosis.

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So, I was pretty thrilled to stumble across an outdoor jazz gig on the patio at Lydia’s Cafe in Stone Ridge, when my husband and I sat down for a rare adult-only dinner one late summer evening last year. Even better, as we tucked into dimly lit food in COVID-safe foil containers, string lights bobbing in the breeze, it was announced that a local jazz legend — the drummer James ‘Jimmy’ Madison — would be stepping up to play a song with the band… and he did not disappoint.

I hadn’t heard of Jimmy before, but some quick Googling revealed that he has worked with a jaw-dropping number of 20th Century musical greats. Lionel Hampton, Chet Baker, George Benson, Maceo Parker, Quincy Jones… the list goes on. I had to find out more, and Mark, the co-owner of Lydia’s (and driver of their musical repertoire), was kind enough to connect us.

When Jimmy and I finally spoke it was like stepping into a fantasy time travel portal, transporting me to the hustle and flair of the 1970s music scene. As he grabbed a bottle wine and settled down in the sun in his backyard to chat, he took me on a journey from his beginnings as a child prodigy in Cincinnati — ”My parents said I was beating on my high chair in time with the music on the radio” — to touring the world with the stars. He recorded with Nina Simone “on an ancient farm in Belgium”, toured Europe with James Brown (“He liked the way I played funk”), created an 18 piece Big Band with award-winning musicians across the city — “That was a bad f**king band; everybody in New York City wanted to be in that band” — and he’s still going: he recently collaborated with soprano Joyce Didonato on her album Songplay that won a Grammy in 2020.

Amidst all this gritty glamor, Jimmy bumped into a friend with a backpack one day in 1977: “What is that?” he asked. “As a beebop, stay-up-all night jazz musician I had no idea.” That chance meeting sparked a stream of camping trips upstate and before long Jimmy became a keen climber, scaling cliffs from the Adirondacks to the Himalayas — his identity as an alpinist sitting in unexpected harmony with that of a restless musician.

After many years taking the 7.30 am bus to New Paltz to hike at weekends, Jimmy and his wife (and their new kitten Dizzy) now live full time in their home in Kerhonkson, NY, surrounded by Tolkien-esque carpets of moss — a spot chosen for its proximity to ‘the Gunks’ (short for the Shawangunk Mountains) for climbing, and to NYC for playing. “I never wrote or studied music, all I can do is read the rhythm,” Jimmy told me with classic drummer humility, and the Village Voice once described him as “The best kept secret in jazz.” And yet, his lifetime of talent and wild experience speaks for itself: we are blessed to have this understated musical giant moving amongst us.

Jimmy’s drums boxed up at home (photography by AJ Lee)

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AJL: Jimmy, what an honor. Let’s take it back to the early days. What do you remember about playing jam sessions as a 12 year old kid in smokey venues like The Whisper Room in Cincinnati?JL: My very first professional gig was a club date and this bass player who drove me and my drums to the gig said “After, would you like to go to a jam session?” So I played a tune and I guess I did OK cos they would invite me back; I knew I was playing catch up and being in a bar with cigarettes and alcohol was strange and scary; but I just watched all the other drummers.

The two owners of the bar were twins who weighed about 300 pounds each, and both played the piano — during the set they would come up and play ‘Satin Doll,’ that was their thing, together, like a four-handed piano. It was a riot. Somebody tipped off Herb (one of the twins) that I was younger than I should be but he said if I brought an adult I could stay. So every Sunday my mum would sit and have a cocktail and I would have a Shirley Temple, she loved it.

You moved to New York City in 1969. How did it feel to be part of the music scene in the city at that time?I had no money and was staying with my first wife in a 25 dollar-a-week downtown hotel with the pimps and the hustlers and no AC. Boy it was a lot of fun. January the year I got there I started playing with Marian McPartland through Michael Moore, a bass player I knew in Cincinnati. Then with Bobby Hackett at Downbeat Club in Manhattan; then one day I was in a club with Vic Dickenson, the trombone player — he played his ass off and rolled the best joints I’ve ever seen, rolled it and rolled it and rolled it until it look like a store bought cigarette. Roland Kirk (before he was Rahsaan) comes in and his guy comes over to me and says “Roland would like you to sit in on the Vanguard on Monday.” And sure enough, on Monday he called me up for the second set: I was petrified, in the most famous jazz club in the world with this really famous guy.

My life has been a continuous thing like that: a roll. It’s all I ever wanted to do — no responsibilities other than where’s the gig and what are we playing, and count me off.

Jimmy playing at Birdland circa 1980s (image courtesy of James Madison)

It blows my mind how many musical greats you have played and recorded with. Who have you loved collaborating with the most and why?Chet Baker. He was so laid back and so good. We played at Gillys in Dayton, Ohio and no one had remembered to bring the pot, but Chet always had film cans stuffed with pot so we all went over to his room. He never raised his voice, he was the most mellow cat.

Roland Kirk was weird to work for, but he always treated me with great respect. One day, Roland looks right at me and said ‘Do you know who Sid Cattlet was?’ I did — a legend of a drummer — but I didn’t know what to do, all these people staring at me. So, I stood up and saluted and shouted ‘Yessir boss’ and the whole f**king place dissolved, so many drinks were bought for me, this little white kid playing the drums.

Your career has taken you all around the world. Is there a tour experience that stands out for you as particularly memorable? The James Brown tour in ‘70 or ‘71 was interesting to me. We got to London and by the time we got there it was so late we had to go right to the Royal Albert Hall for the sound check. I wasn’t playing that night (James had three drummers plus me) so all the guys said “Go get us some food,” and when I was out there I had my pocket picked: about $400 and two joints of the best pot I ever smoked, from an Argentinean girl I’d met in a club in Paris the night before. I went back to the hall and I’m looking under the scrims; James comes out of this dressing room and asks “What are you doing?” Then he takes his wallet out and gives me a $100 bill, saying: “This won’t make up for what you lost but it may make you think about being better next time.”

James was all about respect. Everything had to be perfect. You had to have your shoe shined and your suit pressed, you had to be clean. James had a fine system. If one guy in the band had his shoes not shined, James would turn his back to the audience and hold up his hands like this [Jimmy opened and shut both his hands, twice] — that was 20 bucks. Gert was his costume manager, the gate keeper to the dressing room; she was the one who would watch the show and would write it down whenever he would fine someone, and that would come out of their pay.

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James was in his 40s by then, not quite as spry as he used to be. He would come on for the first number then go off while other people played. Then Bobby Byrd would say [Jimmy does an air-drum intro] “It’s star time… are you ready… Mr Please Please Himself, it’s James Brown!” and James would come back on and start doing his moves.

In the late ‘70s you started what would become a lifelong pursuit of mountaineering. Where are your favorite spots in New York State to climb?The Gunks. Every weekend I’d get the early bus, have breakfast at the Bistro in New Paltz, then hitchhike to the cliff with the pack with all my stuff. When things were slowing down musically I would go up there and smoke a joint and contemplate. The climbing kept me going. I’ve climbed every year until last year — it’s totally addictive, but it is dangerous. I once did Mont Blanc, there was a storm coming in, we were 14,000 ft up and we got stuck there for two days and had to dig an ice cave to stay alive. But after you’ve climbed the same mountain fifty times, it’s ‘been there, done that’ — I don’t have to prove I’m a man again every weekend.

Photos of Jimmy climbing, alongside oil paintings by his mother, at his home (photography by AJ Lee)

You and your wife settled in the Hudson Valley in the 1980s. What attracted you to the area?I started camping up here every weekend when I wasn’t on the road with George Benson. I took rock climbing lessons at the North East School of Mountaineering; spent two weeks in British Columbia. In 1986 I met my wife, Sylvia, and she became a good climber too. Now I basically live here — there isn’t really a music business for a 70-something year old like me. I have everything I want to do up here, I’m just happy to be alive.

I’m so curious: you started your career so young, and you’re still making Grammy award winning albums. What keeps you excited and motivated to keep playing?The Jazz business has been sinking in the toilet for a long time now. I had almost given up and disappeared into my garden when people started pushing me to form another band. This trio* has changed my mind. There IS hope for Jazz, apparently. Anyway, I realized I can no more give up performing than I can stop breathing. So………..I’ll keep on keepin’ on.

*Jimmy, Tim Regusis and Tarik Shah — the trio that played Lydia’s Cafe in June.

Jimmy’s kitten, Dizzy, at home in Kerhonkson (photography by AJ Lee)

Thank you Jimmy for these incredible stories and your generous hospitality. I can’t wait to see you in action at Lydia’s again soon.

Lydia’s Cafe in Stone Ridge has a packed calendar of live music events this Summer, and Jimmy will be back performing there this Fall. Don’t miss it.

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