Greg Phillinganes, a keyboardist from Detroit, was in Stevie Wonder's band Wonderlove in the early 1970s when producer and composer Quincy Jones invited him to play on a session with jazzman Billy Eckstine. The partnership led to a nearly 50-year relationship in which Phillinganes appeared on classic “Q” productions such as Michael Jackson Outside the Wall and Impressive workplus albums by Patti Austin, George Benson, James Ingram and Jones himself. By phone from New York, where he is working with Pink Floyd's David Gilmour Luck and Strange tour, Phillinganes remembers Jones, his friend and mentor, who died Sunday at 91.
The first time I met him, I was still in high school. I was 18, living in Detroit. Quincy was in town for his new album signing You got it bad girl [in 1973]. I left school early and went downtown to Hudson's [department store] to meet him I bought an album and stood in line. I remember shaking his hand, we talked for a few minutes and I told him I was a musician. I remember him asking me what I played, and I told him keyboards, and he asked if I had a Fender Rhodes. I told him, “No, but I can use one in the band I play in.” He was supportive and wonderful and encouraging.
This led to another meeting, which happened after I joined Stevie's band. He had me come down to the A&M studios to play on a little piece he was producing on Herb Alpert. The name of the song was “The Best Thing,” which was a single for this little artist named Billy Eckstine. [the great jazz singer]. Not long after that, I came up with most [Jones] did. The thing about Quincy is that if he invites you, you're supposed to deserve to be there.
He has a gentle manner. If he sweats, he never lets you see it. He is always able to bring out not only the best in you, but also qualities you didn't even know you had. It's only after the fact that you realize you're a better musician than before you entered.
It was a wonderful surprise to be asked to be part of Michael Jackson's first solo record [Off the Wall]. [Jones] he asked me to cover the song 'I Can't Help It' that Stevie wrote. We got the demo, we're in the studio, we listened to it. It was an up-tempo Latin feeling. Quincy gave me the responsibility to handle it. I thought, 'Great, I'm going to do the same thing that Stevie did, and I'm going to really amp it up and jazz it up.' I made a demo. I had Sheila E. play on it and Michael sang on it. I played it for Quincy and he said, “No.” Quincy said, “No, we have to slow it down and make it sexy.” Quincy was trying to establish Michael as an adult. When I realized this mission, I jumped on it and put on a beautiful Rose and sexy bass and these wonderful rich synths and overdubs. This is the recorded version.
I had a nickname that wasn't from Quincy. He comes from high school in Detroit. This guy started giving people nicknames and I happened to be there. He came up to me and said, “We'll call you Mouse.” From that day on, everyone called me that. As I got older, it became less cute. “Wait, I'm an adult and I'm already small in stature, I don't need to be reminded.” I grew up really popular in Detroit and playing in bands around town, everyone knew me by that name and it just stuck. I moved to Los Angeles in June of '75 and felt this sense of freedom: “I'm starting a new life and no one knows who I am — and most importantly, no one knows me by this scary nickname.” But guess what? There was a friend of mine, another musician who also played keyboards, who started working with Quincy before I did. He told Quincy about me, but he told him that name. Well, the second time I met Quincy, the first thing she said to me was, “What are you doing, mouse?” I went, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAGGGGHH!” Not just him. He would introduce me to friends of his, like Arthur Ash, Colin Powell — he called it a nickname. It's like, really, Quincy? Really;
When he developed the talk show Vibe [in 1997]he called me into his office and said, “I want you to be the musical director of this show.” I said, “That's incredible, I've always wanted to have a band on a TV talk show.” He paused and said, “There is one thing. I want you to use that name.' I said, “Oh come on, man, you gotta give me a break on this one. People will spot me at the mall and say, “Hey, that's the mouse.” He looked at me and said, “That's the idea.” Well, you couldn't fight it. It got to the point where I accepted it from him, because the tone of his voice, the way he called me that, was just so endearing.
The last time I saw him was on June 17th. It took months of planning. I was trying desperately to get in touch with him and it was so hard because the family was really keeping a close eye on things, and understandably so. It was finally arranged and we talked and reminisced. He said things like, “Life is amazing, isn't it, mouse?” He was sitting on a chair and I stood behind him and he held my hand and kissed it. Just so beautiful and intimate, and I will never forget it.
He returns to the instruction given by his mentor [French composition and orchestration teacher] Nadia Boulanger told him, and since then she has told me, and since then I have said to every child I meet, “You are never more of a musician than you are a person.” Quincy was a rare, loving, passionate, spirited, funny and generous person.
— As told to Steve Knopper
from our partners at https://www.billboard.com/pro/quincy-jones-remembered-longtime-collaborator-greg-phillinganes/
