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Reached at home in Southern California, pianist-singer Les McCann revisited his rich life as a musician in a far-ranging interview.

Stories dating back half a century came pouring from him as if they'd happened yesterday. His photographic recall of details was impressive, and his warmth and laughter as he recalled these "golden moments" was irresistible.

On launching his musical career:

"A few years after I got out of the Navy, Miles Davis was playing in a jam session in Los Angeles. After he finished his set, I came onstage, and he walked up to me and said, 'How come you didn't play when I was up there?' I was too nervous to play with anybody like that in those days. Next thing I know, I'm getting a call from Cannonball Adderley saying I'd been recommended by Miles to join the new band he was building at that time. I told him, 'Thank you, but I'm starting my own band.'"

On presiding over the Hollywood jazz scene in the 1950s:

"I lived in Hollywood and tried to bring music of a different nature there. They called me the King of the Coffeehouses. I had all the coffeehouses. I worked two hours here, one hour over there, 'til four o'clock in the morning. People in town — musicians and singers — would come by and sit in with me. Plus, I used to be the emcee at all the jam sessions. I was going to Los Angeles City College at the same time, too. It was perfect timing for what I was doing, 'cause not only were we playing up and down the Sunset Strip but every day at school we'd have a jam session on the campus. It was an early learning period, you know?"

On an unlikely recording session with Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention in 1966:

"There was a big party, and they gave everyone instruments as they walked into the room and said, 'Do whatever you want.' That was wild. That's kind of the way I handled my band. It wasn't a matter of playing songs. Since all of us knew how to play, it was just, 'Start a feel or a chord and let it go where it is,' which is what I called at that time 'true jazz.' 'Cause it was all spontaneous, and that's what Zappa was doing. So, I don't know if I got it from him or whoever, but it was all part of my growth in the music business, and my two favorite albums, "Invitation to Openness" (1972) and "Layers" (1973), were done that way.

On recording "Swiss Movement," his most popular album, in 1968:

My producer, Joel Dorn, said, 'You're going to the Montreux Jazz Festival this year, and it's your first time there. One of our other artists, (saxophonist) Eddie Harris, is going to be there, too, and we think you all should get to know each other and play together.' I'd heard him before, and I loved his music. So, we met and said, 'OK, let's do it.' When we flew to Switzerland, only he and I were there. The other guys had missed the plane, so they didn't even show up until the day before we played. When we were onstage doing the concert, after everybody finally showed up, none of them knew the songs, so I'm yelling out the chords from the stage while we're playing."

On discovering North Carolina native and soul superstar Roberta Flack:

"For two or three years, Tony Taylor, who owned a club called Bohemian Caverns, in Washington, D.C., was telling me about this young lady who he thought was the greatest thing he'd ever heard. Once, I had a Monday night off, so I went to Washington a day or two early, and Roberta happened to be working at the club. When I heard her, I knew right away something had to be done, so I went back to California, picked up my recording equipment and recorded her. I sent the tape to Atlantic Records, and they said, 'We don't need another singer; we've got Aretha Franklin.' So, I sent it to Columbia, and somebody there said, 'Yeah, we're interested.' When they heard that, Atlantic came back and said, 'Wait a minute. We have a second thought here.' And that's how she got to be known."

Parke Puterbaugh is a freelance contributor.

Greensboro musician to play with musical pioneer

On Friday, a musical reunion will take place in Greensboro. One of the parties may only vaguely recall the other, which won't diminish the event's momentousness for the other party.

The story begins more than three and a half decades ago in Boston. Michael Roberto, who grew up in New York, was just beginning work on a doctorate in history at Boston College. A music aficionado, he'd grown up hearing '60s rock and soul music and played drums in bands during his teenage years.

Then, in Boston, he came across an album by jazz-soul pioneer Les McCann, and everything changed for him.

McCann is a singer and pianist best-known for "Compared to What?" — a powerful piece of social commentary that appeared on his top-selling "Swiss Movement" album, released in 1968. But McCann's catalog spans half a century, including pioneering soul-jazz albums in the early 1960s and jazz-fusion albums from the early 1970s. Grabbed by his music, Roberto wound up seeing McCann every chance he could at places such as Paul's Mall and the Jazz Workshop.

"If I didn't go 100 times, I must've gone at least 50 times," says Roberto, who teaches history at N.C. A&T. "When he came to town, if he was there for a week, I'd be down at the club every night."

Something about McCann's effortless synthesis of jazz and soul grabbed Roberto. And what he heard conga player and percussionist Buck Clark doing triggered a turning event in his musical life.

"He played congas and bongos in a style that wasn't really Afro-Cuban," Roberto recalls. "In other words, he didn't play like Mongo Santamaria. He played in more of a rhythm & blues and soul kind of tradition. I was drawn to that, so I went out and bought congas and started to play."

Les McCann, reached at home in California, chuckled at the mention of Clark's name: "Buck Clark, that's right! Very great percussionist. Wild kind of guy, wore chains and belts and buckles and leather.

"We just did what I do with Buck doing what he does," he continued. "It was just soul music with the conga drums and the cowbells and whatever else we could use."

It had such a profound impact on Roberto that he begged McCann for a chance to sit in with him on congas.

"He'd never let me sit in with him," recalls Roberto. "He kept telling me to make a tape, and I never did that because I didn't know what I was doing."

Roberto finally got his chance in 1977. During a blizzard in Boston, he boarded an Amtrak train to Washington, where McCann was playing for a week.

"I walked into the club looking like Che Guevara holding a bunch of congas," laughs Roberto. "Les said, 'I told you not to do this,' but he let me sit in and it was a real thrill. He said, 'You play OK.'"

Roberto continued to develop as a self-taught conga player and moved to Miami, where he played with R&B bands. His Ph.D. studies got put on hold during this period. He ultimately completed the degree back in Boston in the 1990s and has been teaching here at A&T since 1997.

All the while, he's been playing with area jazz and soul musicians on the side, and Les McCann's music has never been far from his heart.

"I've never let go of his music, because his music has always defined my music," he says. "Buck Clark's playing and Les McCann's music defined my musical sensibilities. It was my earth center of jazz. It was my earth center of soul."

When McCann performs at A&T's Harrison Auditorium on Friday, he will be accompanied by pianist Turner Battle, trumpet player Mondre Moffit, saxophonist Galvin Crisp, bassist Leroy Roberson, drummer Mike Pitts – and, on conga drums, Michael Roberto.

"This concert at A&T is a big deal to me," Roberto says. "I've always dreamed of doing a gig with Les McCann, and now it's coming to pass."

Parke Puterbaugh is a freelance contributor. Contact him at parkeputerbaugh@earthlink.net.