A host of local notables and out-of-towners descended on his seat of operations, the Velvet Lounge, to pay tribute to the man who has provided shelter and showcase to so many creative musicians since he opened his first club in 1978. The week-long celebration embraced such Anderson cohorts as bassists Henry Grimes, Harrison Bankhead, Richard Davis and Tatsu Aoki; drummers Avreeayl Ra, Chad Taylor, Ernie Adams, Kahil El’Zabar and Isaiah Spencer; and fellow reedists Edward “Kidd” Jordan, Hamiet Bluiett, Ed Wilkerson, Mwata Bowden, Ken Vandermark and Jimmy Ellis, to name a few.

Among the impromptu aggregations, saxophonist Ernest Dawkins presented the first annual Chicago Excellence in Creative Music Awards, which included performances from three established local groups: his own New Horizons Ensemble, singer Dee Alexander’s group plus guest flutist Nicole Mitchell and saxophonist Ari Brown’s Quartet.

Memorable scenes from the celebration included a dogwhistle-high altissimo rendition of “Happy Birthday” from Jordan; the presentation of a “Fred Anderson Day” citation from Chicago Mayor Richard Daley; a taping for an upcoming Delmark CD/DVD release; and heartfelt poetic recitations to “Baba” Fred from Alexander, Douglas Ewart and pianist Soji Adebayo, not to discount a tearful tribute from Anderson’s son Eugene, a drummer, reunited for the first onstage jam with his father in 30 years.

Like his “elder brother” on the Chicago scene, Von Freeman, Anderson has been a self-motivator from the get-go. “Fred’s my partner out here, and he’s always stuck right with it,” said Freeman, “He’s strictly got his own thing going and he’s great at it. You gotta believe in yourself down here, then whatever else you do will work out. Fred always dreamed of being a success in this business and his dream has come true.”

Success, of course, is measured on a sliding scale. But when Anderson talks about his current creative activities, at an age when most folks are preoccupied with the rearview mirror, it is nothing short of inspirational. Aside from the live birthday gig on Delmark, Fred has several new releases on a plethora of labels slated in upcoming months and is constantly collaborating in new situations. Case in point was a match-up last June with the Amsterdam-based trio of pianist Michiel Braam, bassist Wilbert De Joode and drummer Michael Vatcher. The tenorist’s second set with the trio witnessed strong, practically non-stop blowing for a solid hour. De Joode was particularly impressed, talking of the “fantastic connection” and his enthusiasm to record in a duo with Anderson. Braam commented succinctly that he “heard a language” in the saxophonist’s playing, which echoed a comment from bassist William Parker, with whom Anderson had performed at New York’s Vision Festival the week before.

“Fred follows the tradition of Coleman Hawkins, Don Byas and Sonny Rollins and all the great tenors who had voices,” said Parker over the phone. “Before melody, rhythm is his signature. He has his own intervallic path, phrasing and timing. The old, the now and the future are present in Fred Anderson’s playing; you hear blues, deep soul, gospel all the tradition. In one low B-flat you can hear that.”

Another (unrelated) Parker, guitarist Jeff, has recorded with Anderson for the Delmark, Thrill Jockey and Asian Improv labels. He recalls a night at the Velvet Lounge when the bass player didn’t show. “(Drummer) Chad Taylor and I decided to play as a duo,” Parker said. “We were getting pretty deep into the Charlie Parker composition ‘Relaxin’ At Camarillo,’ then I saw this shadowy figure from the corner of my eye and there was Fred. He came from behind the bar with his tenor strapped on and joined us for the rest of the set.”

Parker toured with Anderson and drummer Hamid Drake and observed the Chicagoan’s daily regimen. “He always makes time for practice,” he said. “Before it is time to hit he steps into the persona of taking care of business on the horn, everything rises up way above the occasion. He doesn’t try to play the music; he becomes the music.”

Parker points out Anderson’s adoration of Charlie Parker, and his espousal of Bird’s creative spirit, as a prototype. When DownBeat met with Anderson at the Velvet Lounge—the clean storefront space with brightly colored walls that he opened in 2006 at 67 E.Cermak, just around the corner from its former site — the room resounded to Charlie Parker from the sound system. “It’s a new boxed set I ordered online from ESP,” Anderson enthused. “It’s called Bird In Time, with interviews and rare recordings.”

In May 2008 Anderson performed for the first time in Charlie Parker’s hometown, Kansas City, with a trio of bassist Josh Abrams and drummer Isaiah Spencer. “It was at the Blueroom,” said Anderson, “where they have the alto that Buster Smith used to play on the wall. It was in Bird’s possession when he died.” Though he visited Parker’s grave on his visit, Fred insisted that on the gig, “We didn’t play any Parker tunes, we just played Fred Anderson.”

Jeff Parker and Anderson discussed recording a set of Charlie Parker tunes and even had a couple of rehearsals, but it never happened. “I guess he decided to focus on his own music,” acknowledges Parker, adding that it was Anderson’s counsel to “trust his instincts” that made a big impression on him at a crucial time in his development. “It was very important advice for a young musician,” insists Parker. “It basically meant, ‘Be true to yourself.’”

Lauren Deutsch, director of the Jazz Institute of Chicago, has had a peculiarly intimate relationship with Anderson for 20 years — from behind a lens. Deutsch photographed Anderson for the cover of the Nessa album The Missing Link in 1979 and has subsequently been involved with numerous promotional and fine art projects with Anderson as the subject, including two recent releases from Asian Improv, a particularly forceful Anderson outing from a birthday concert in 2000 and a taping at the club from 2008. Not perhaps the most glamorous of subjects, with his TV-framed spectacles and habit of playing archbacked with face pointing floorward, Deutsch was impressed by the softspoken way he always stood his ground.

Drawn to the creative proving ground that the original Velvet Lounge became as well as the characters who patronized the place, Deutsch would get there early to find a good vantage point for photography.

“Fred’s a seeker,” Deutsch observed. “When I arrived before a concert once, he was alone there. He was listening to a recording of himself, Hamid Drake and bassist Harrison Bankhead, from the Vision Festival.” Fred wanted to hear whether what he had played really came across the way he thought it had. “I marveled that even a master is not sure. Fred said cats who think they are ‘there’ end right there. They never continue to grow.” Nevertheless for Deutsch, Anderson’s courage in his convictions helped her develop a voice in a new digital photographic medium. “This is how Fred has mentored us non-musicians,” claims Deutsch. “He is a firm believer in everything he stands for: the freedom and desire to create absolutely original music, the importance of cultivating new players and new sounds, and the role of mentorship in the jazz community.”

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