Four Inane Questions with Kansas City Jazz Orchestra’s Clint Ashlock
Clint Ashlock. // Courtesy photo
Forget singer/dancer/actor. Clint Ashlock is a triple threat of another kind. The trumpeter/composer/bandleader grew up in the Kansas City area, performing alongside such powerhouse vocalists as Aretha Franklin and Natalie Cole, as well as being a mainstay here on the local circuit.
Ashlock will also celebrate his 10-year anniversary as the artistic director of the Kansas City Jazz Orchestra this year. In addition to producing or being a part of several recordings over the years, he tells us he’s excited for KCJO’s newest release, In The Key of KC, which debuts September 23. And, of course, he says don’t miss KCJO’s upcoming 2023 – 2024 season kicking off this month as well.
Ashlock is also hyper-involved in jazz education, establishing KCJO’s “JazzWorks!” initiative as well as teaching college-level courses for 15 years.
We caught up with the musician extraordinaire to bombard him with our bonkers questionnaire. We also requested he play a song or two by Paula Abdul, but, you know, jazzy. He politely declined. Bless.
Photo by Nicole Bissey
The Pitch: What’s the best photo ever taken in the history of photographs, in your humble opinion?
This is a monumentally difficult question to answer!
I have two favorites: Ali triumphant over Liston and Robert Frank’s Trolley Car from The Americans. The Ali photo because I think he’s the most important athlete ever, and it’s just so perfectly framed. Plus, the lighting is fantastic—and it encapsulates the great man.
The Americans is my favorite book of photography ever, and this photo shows the social juxtaposition of our country: relevant then and now. It could be argued that the first photo ever taken, by Niépce, is the most important, or Cartier-Bresson’s “Decisive Moment.”
But I think the best photo ever taken is “Earthrise” from Apollo astronaut Bill Anders. It’s beautiful and gives such a daunting perspective to our place in the universe.
How do you feel about RC Cola? Be honest.
So, I used to love RC Cola when I was a kid. I think it was because the can had Kansas Jayhawk colors, but if given the opportunity I’d pick it over Coke and Pepsi. (Yeah, I know Pepsi has the same colors). Now it seems like you can’t ever find it, and I try not to drink much soda anymore.
There’s a great little Chicago-Italian beef/hot dog/pub-style pizza place in Lenexa called “The Pizza Man,” and I think they have RC. I think I’ve gotten an RC there, but I’m not sure. And I think it tasted fine. So, I actually have no idea if I like it or not, but let’s say that I absolutely love it.
Which bird do you have the most spiritual connection with?
Let’s say it’s a mockingbird. The coolest thing about a mockingbird, to me, is that they can learn any other bird call and repeat it beautifully—but they don’t just do it note for note. Mockingbirds improvise those calls in tons of different ways: they change the pitch, change the rhythm, alter phrases, and basically elaborate on the original theme. As a big band arranger, I’m constantly doing that.
So maybe I’m not a panda after all?
Describe your recurring theatre dream/nightmare? Everyone has one.
I don’t, though.
Although, I’ll have a dream once or twice a year where I’m trying to get to a gig, but a wide variety of issues prevent me getting there. I read that maybe it means you’re feeling stuck. With or without pants! In front of the class!
Bonus 5th Question: If you were a cloud, what kind of cloud would you be?
I should probably just say “cumulus,” but I’d choose to be a lenticular cloud. I like that they form perpendicular to wind direction, which is sorta what it feels like to be a jazz musician: perpendicular to the overwhelmingly dominant trends. I also love that they’re shaped like lenses, which appeals to my philosophy that jazz and other abstract art forms allow us an opportunity to broaden our field of view.
When we allow non-literal art into our lives, we have to use our imaginations—which is great because so much of our society is now completely literal. This act draws upon intangible facets of the human experience—facets we all share! Abstraction deepens our understanding of self and those around us.
