KELLY SILL'S MUSICALITY, INTENSITY, AND SINCERITY CELEBRATED

PROMOTING AND NURTURING JAZZ IN CHICAGO NOVEMBER 2022

By Corey Hall

For fifty-two seconds, even silence stood still after Wayne Shorter’s “Infant Eyes” ended. This song, played from a CD brought by Jeff Stitely, had just flowed through the speakers at the Jazz Showcase in the drummer’s attempt to establish healing, meditative moments for “Kelly Sill: A Celebration of Life.” Sill, whose bass, pedagogy, and personality inspired, intimidated, and intrigued many during his four decades on Chicago’s jazz scene, died on September 28 at age seventy. “Infant Eyes,” Stitely noted, had been cited by Sill as a perfect composition and personal favorite.

Stitely, the celebration’s host, spoke, even when pain caused his voice to rise to resist breaking apart. Before him, mounted on an easel, stood a blackand-white photograph of Sill, hands carefully clutching his instrument, staring into the camera through everpresent spectacles, shoulder-length hair combed and cascading just right. Complementing this photograph were roses intertwined with a replica bass.

Sill, born in Fargo, North Dakota, on March 2, 1952, possessed prodigious recording and live experience credits with John Campbell, Jackie McLean, Anita O’Day, Mose Allison, and goo gobs more.

Before yielding the microphone to the celebration’s featured celebrants – Art Davis, Naomi Sill, Mark Sonksen, Brad Goode, and John Lawler – Stitely addressed the remorse he and other people present were experiencing about not having contacted Sill as his health eroded.

“The person you were in his life, and he was in our lives, is really what it’s about, not something we didn’t do,” he said. “Let’s have this be a sacred place of forgiveness for those thoughts and those of you having those thoughts.”

Trumpeter Art Davis – whose friendship with Sill began fifty-two years ago at U. of I-Champaign – admired Sill’s tastes, which included everyone in Miles’ late ‘60s quintet, to Rachmaninoff, to saxophonist Scott Hamil- ton. Davis also recalled what Sill said about his life’s purpose.

“He said, ‘I came here’ – and I now know he meant this planet, this plane of existence – ‘to help people,’ ” Davis recalled. “And I thought, ‘Wow. He didn’t say, ‘I came here to be a bass player, a great musician or composer.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, Kel. That’s probably the most important thing you’ve done.’

”Naomi Sill, -- “Kel” and Kelly (Brand’s) daughter -- discussed her dad’s sensitivity, spirituality, and ever-present support. Naomi recalled sitting with her parents outside their home, playing frisbee, and getting destroyed by Davis in Scrabble. She also remembered the deep discussions she had with her father about how the communications between mind and body were so important.

“My dad taught me that it was okay to feel anything and everything,” Naomi said. “He told me that was the reason we were alive. We want to give love. We want to receive love.

“He taught me to not even think bad thoughts about other human beings,” she continued, “because our thoughts matter. Our thoughts could manifest, and I thought that was really powerful.”

Mark Sonksen, trusted by Sill to perform maintenance on his axes, remembered how his friend since the early 1990s said that playing music made life beautiful and worth living. Sonksen also recalled Sill’s response to a listener who, after a performance, said he loved music and wished he had kept playing. “Without missing a beat, Kelly simply looked at him, smiled, and said, ‘No you don’t. If you really wanted to play, you would have played,’” Sonksen stated. “That’s the Kel we all know and loved… and now he’s with the ancestors.”

Trumpeter Brad Goode recalled presenting his concept for an ensemble that would play original, unorthodox arrangements. Would Sill participate? “Brad, you have called the right person, and I will make this work,” Goode recalled being told. Sill would then play in Goode’s ensembles for the next twenty-five years.

Goode’s Kelly story detailed what happened after the sessions for That’s Right, his 2018 album. Sill’s enthusiasm about the music led him to demand involvement in its post-production. “I need to be there mixing with you,” Sill said, “and you really need to have me there.” Then, two days later, Sill called Goode at his home in Colorado and repeated his request. He added that purchasing a plane ticket for him to attend would be a good idea. Goode responded as requested.

On day one, Goode and the engineer heard Sill say, “This sounds really good.” Other than those five syllables, stated intermittently, Sill stayed silent. On day two, Sill emerged from his shell when the playback for “A Sense of Fairness,” his composition, happened. “He said to the engineer, ‘Let me hear that bass solo again,’” Goode recalled. Sill listened and then repeated his request. “Then Kelly said, ‘Just play that one lick!’ Then Kelly looked at me and said, ‘I can’t play that! Play it again!’ That was Kelly’s contribution to the mix.”

Sill, the guru, was also celebrated by mentee, bassist John Lawler. Before Lawler bombed an audition in 2010 at DePaul University, he had been told by Sill in his campus office to write down his number and remain in touch. After Lawler’s failures were confirmed, he connected with Sill and began weekly lessons.

“You never took the bass out of the case at his house,” Lawler said. “He would always be sitting down at the piano talking music. It was really about your understanding of what you were hearing and whether or not you were grasping it.”

Sill’s intensity about humor never faded, Lawler continued. “Even when he was going to the darkest places in his life, he would call me up to tell a joke just so that he knew he could tell that joke.

“Know that Kelly would tell you this,” Lawler said. “Don’t lose your sense of humor, because it is the one defining human characteristic that will set you above and beyond everyone else.”

When Stitely returned to conclude the celebration’s spoken set, he expressed regret that a death had to happen for these stories to be told. “We should have had this party with Kelly,” he said. He then shared something that Sill told him while they discussed their motivations for playing music. “He said, ‘I play for the music that’s in the moment. Then I play for God, and then I play for the people in the room. Myself is last.’ That really made me think.”

Stitely then yielded the stage to two ensembles led by Goode, saxophonist Geof Bradfield, and pianist Dennis Luxion. The ensembles performed two Sill originals: “Naomi” and “Ironic Line.” For the jam session that followed, led by saxophonist Eric Schneider, Stitely let everyone know Kelly’s Rules of Conduct for such sessions. The first?

“Three horn players on the stage, max!” he began, as the attendees in the packed venue laughed, in remembrance or regret. And the second? “When a tune is called, if you’re not sure of the melody and start playing it…you’re out! All of Kelly’s particles are going to come here, reform, and give you the stink eye!”