R.I.P. Quincy Jones

A eulogy for one of the most important producers, arrangers, writers, wranglers, and performers of the 20th Century

The greatest and most influential producer and arranger of the 20th Century, Quincy Jones, a towering figure across multiple generations and genres of music, has died. He was 91.

Jones produced the three greatest Michael Jackson albums (Off The Wall, Thriller, Bad) making MJ an international superstar — and yet he had already done so much with music before that, having several careers (performer, arranger, producer, soundtrack composer) and intersecting with the “Michael Jacksons” of earlier days: Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald, Ray Charles, Frank Sinatra, and Miles Davis.

If you want to truly understand the span of Jones’ career in one sentence, across one giant timeline, think purely of the fact that he was connected to Billie Holiday and Charlie Parker at one end of his life, and introduced Tevin Campbell and Will Smith to the world, creating platforms for both, so many years later.

In the years between, a teenaged Jones was on stage with Ray Charles at the start of both of their careers, was a trusted arranger for Frank Sinatra and Miles Davis, composed the scores for The Italian Job, Roots, The Color Purple, and many other TV shows and movies, was the producer of dozens of classics, and created jazz and funk albums under his own name too; often bringing in superstar musicians, or making jobbing players the session stars of tomorrow.

I often think of musicians and producers whose span is enormous — who changed music several times. Someone like Brian Eno for instance. I cannot think of another person that was more influential, more important than Quincy Jones. He was one of the only Boomers (in fact he was pre-Baby Boom, but the tag fits in this context) to correctly understand, appreciate, and influence hip-hop. What’s more he advanced it. His 1989 album Back On The Block, hot on the heels of his world beating work with Michael Jackson, combined the talents of Ella Fitzgerald and Big Daddy Kane. It featured Bobby McFerrin, and the then 13-year-old Tevin Campbell. He updated several jazz classics, combining samples and new recordings, and both advanced the language of the genre, and explained it to skeptics and detractors. He showed the point of the genre and its links back to jazz; demonstrating how both were collaborative ideals for how music was meant to be made, and shared.

If I think about Jones’ music and its impact on my life, I can think of how Back on the Block, not only legitimised hip-hop and introduced jazz properly to my life, it bonded me to my parents over both. His music to The Color Purple and Roots was early, crucial soundtrack work for me also. And then there’s his arranging — Killer Joe in particular, across multiple versions, just floored me. Then. And now.

And of course I was a Michael Jackson fan. Who wasn’t? In recent years, connected I guess with the 40th Anniversary of Thriller — a couple of years back now — I came to hear the album for what it actually is: A Quincy Jones Album, with guest vocalist Michael Jackson.

When I got hooked on Miles Davis, there was Quincy again! Arranging and producing Miles’ very last concert recording. When I got hooked on Frank Sinatra, there was Quincy yet again. The arranger during a golden period.

We had 1981’s The Dude in our house. And Q’s Jook Joint (1995). And everyone listened to those albums. My mum. My dad. My brother. And me. Together and alone. I think it’s only really The Rolling Stones, Split Enz and Tony Bennett that we can also say that about. The aforementioned Back on the Block went around and around in my mother’s tiny convertible as we drove around the streets of Hastings thinking we might be anywhere else in the early 1990s. (If you saw someone in an MX5 listening to jazz-rap crossover music now you’d wonder what SNL skit they were auditioning for!)

There will be better tributes, and they should run for days and weeks, and we still won’t find a way to cover everything Q had a hand in — from running the boards and wrangling the talent and charts for We Are The World all the way back to being part of Lionel Hampton’s band. Quincy’s legacy, and musical fingerprints are all through my record collection, the way they should be through any great music library. His insatiable need to create, and collaborate, might not have quite healed the world. But it did have a strong go at making it a better place: For you and for me, and the entire human race.

R.I.P. Q — legend