Chattanooga Times Free Press music reporter Casey Phillips spoke with Sammie “Big Sam” Williams, founder of the New Orleans-based urban funk group Funky Nation, about how basketball contributed to his musical development, the key to being a great front man and his continuing relationship with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band.
CP: Your new album is called “King of the Party.” Why do you think you warrant that title?
BS: Because everywhere I go, it’s always a party. Whether you know it or not, when we come, we come to party. That happens all the time, every time. This rarely happens, but if there are only two people at a show in the middle of the week, if we’re there, it’s still going to be a party. Whatever we do, we’re definitely there to party.
CP: Your music has been described by some as “urban funk.” What, in your mind, sets that apart from straight-up funk?
BS: Well, somebody else came up with that. (Laughs.) They told me I was urban funk. I can’t remember what article it was in. I think of it as funk from the streets. I took what I did from the streets of New Orleans and brought it to the stage. It all boils from there, so I figured I’d go along with that.
CP: Why, when you started playing music, did you decide to play the trombone? What was the appeal?
BS: There was no fascination for me. I was always big as a kid. I was always a big boy. It got to the point where, when I was playing basketball, I got too big to play with my age group and too young to play with the older cats. So I decided to join my middle school marching band. The leader asked me what I wanted to play, and I said, “Well, what do you need somebody on?” and he said, “The trombone” and I said, “What’s that?” (Laughs.) I think, at the time, it was because nobody else wanted to play it.
CP: Do you play any other instruments?
BS: Oh yeah, the sousaphone, the trumpet and piano. I get around on the drums. Yeah, I play a few other instruments as well.
CP: Given the number of funk musicians in New Orleans, it seems like it would be a really difficult place to make your mark. What was the level of competition like growing up?
BS: I’ve been playing with Funky Nation for about eight years, and by the time I came out, most of the guys were still playing Meters songs and Neville Brothers songs, things like that – the classics. When I came out, I played those in clubs, but I also made sure I played a lot of my originals. My stuff was more of a P-Funk deal or James Brown but still with New Orleans in it. I would still add the Neville Brothers and the Meters and all those different groves into my music but still made sure I showed myself and what I saw myself as.
CP: How did you do that in your music, bring your personality out? What did you do that was different?
BS: Oh, you’re trying to get my secrets out? (Laughs.) Like, everybody plays the “Sissy Strut” (by The Meters), and they try to play it exactly the way that the Meters played it on their album. I would do the complete opposite. I would play it similar to how he played it, but Zigaboo (Modeliste) was one of the baddest drummers ever or that ever will be. You can’t try to copy that, you know? Don’t mess with that. Just make your drummer do his own thing. That’s just an example: don’t do like somebody else’s recording, don’t try and emulate their sound, come up with your own sound. It’s cool to be inspired by them, but you don’t need to copy them beat for beat, word for word, note for note.
CP: You’ve mentioned the Neville Brothers and the Meters a couple times. Were they influences of yours? If not them, then who?
BS: For me, once I got into the music scene, the Dirty Dozen Brass Band was definitely my main influence.
CP: You were a teenager when you joined up with them, weren’t you?
BS: I was 18. That was in 2000.
CP: Watching videos of you on stage, you’re dancing and engaging the crowd, and judging by your work, the trombone is no joke to play, physically. It looks exhausting. What do you feel like at the end of a performance?
BS: I feel great. (Laughs.) I feel like I want to play some more. Most places, I only stop playing because the club has a curfew. They have guidelines so they don’t get fired, but then, they come back and find us. Like I said, I’m the king of the party. (Laughs.)
CP: Were you the one who came up with that title or did someone else suggest it?
BS: Nah, I came up with the name myself. (Laughs.)
CP: Does anybody else call you that? Has it stuck?
BS: Everybody. (Laughs.) It’s definitely stuck.
CP: You’re a very engaging front man. Do you feel like, because of the association of funk music to dancing, there’s more pressure on you to get the crowd off their feet?
BS: Oh yeah, definitely. When you hear New Orleans music, whoever it is, the music is going to be great. You have to be able, especially as front man, to come through and deliver. You have to be able to deliver. If you can’t do that, you might as well just sit down somewhere, you know?
CP: How do you do that? What do you do to deliver, night after night?
BS: I just do me. I do what I feel coming from New Orleans, and luckily that’s all I need to do. I do what comes naturally to me, and the rest of the band does what comes naturally to them. It just so happens that, when we start playing, people feel this vibe that they can’t resist and they start dancing. And we’re on stage dancing as well, so that inspires them to have a good time, too. I’m always like, “Look, ya’ll are sitting down, but I want you to get up and dance because you’re going to go home at the end of the night and think, ‘That show was great. I wish I’d danced.'” Soon enough, everybody starts dancing, and they enjoy themselves. We don’t want anybody to come to the show all stuck up. They paid good money to have a good time, so it’s like, “Let’s do it.”
CP: Would you feel like you failed in any way if you played a show and nobody danced?
BS: (Laughs.) No, not at all. That’s never happened. (Laughs.) But I don’t think I’d feel like I’d failed, not at all, because I’d know that I put my all into it. There’s never been a show where I’ve not put my all into it. As long as I know I put 100 percent into it and my guys do as well, I feel great about the show.
CP: When you formed Funky Nation in 2002, how did you put together your group?
BS: There are four other guys now, but I started off with a nine-piece band, because The Dirty Dozen was my band, and I wanted to play like them. I started out with four horns and two guitars and bass and drums and percussion. That was the original lineup.
All of us went to school together. We all went to high school together at NOCCA, The New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. When I had the first group together, it was a bunch of guys I went to high school with and a bunch I went to college with as well. Throughout the years, things change. People move away and start families and things like that. It’s changed over the years.
CP: There was an overlap between when you started Funky Nation and your time with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. Was it difficult juggling your responsibilities to both groups?
BS: The thing is, once you start a band, you’re not touring and playing a lot shows. Just because your start a band doesn’t guarantee you a lot of work. I started the band in 2002, and of course, I was with the Dozen, so the only shows I had in 2002 were shows around New Orleans. I had a weekly gig at the Funky Butt every Sunday night, and that became a hot spot. The Dirty Dozen had a month off, so I was able to be there for the whole first month. After that, the club owner was like, “Do you want to continue here?” I was like, “Well, I’m not going to be here every week, but if you’re cool with and the guys are cool with it, I’m fine with it.” Even when I was on the road, the band would play there every Sunday. Once I got there, I would add that extra energy to it. All the fans would be like, “All the fans would be like, the band sounds good even when you’re not there, but you add all this extra energy.” It’s like, “Daddy’s home.” (Laughs.)
Then, it came to the point where I wanted to pursue my band full time. I realized the Dozen were working at least 300 days of the year, and my band wasn’t going to be able to happen that way. I was like, “Well, I want to do my thing full time.” They didn’t like it at all, but they understood where I was coming from. In 2004, that’s when I left to do Funky Nation full time, and then, Katrina happened. We know the rest after that.
CP: Was that initial decision to focus on Funky Nation and leave the Dirty Dozen easy to make?
BS: Nah, it was hard as hell to go from playing with guys like Widespread Panic and Karl Denson to just doing your own thing. It’s hard to get out there on your own. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do on my own. They were paying me well, and going from that to playing local gigs was a hard decision to make, from a financial point as well.
CP: Have you ever second guessed your decision to leave the Dozen?
BS: No, not at all. I love them to death. They’re my musical icons. They’re the whole reason why I got into playing music. So nah, I’ve never go back and said, “I should have stayed with them more.”
I still do jams with them whenever they play around town. We’re like a family. It’s like (Dirty Dozen founding member) Roger Lewis told me, “Once you’re a Dozen, you’re always a Dozen.”
CP: Have you thought beyond “King of the Party” to the next project?
BS: Oh yeah, I’m always thinking about the next project. I’m all about dancing and having a good time and having the music reinforce that. I’m definitely thinking about the next project, but I haven’t keyed in one thing I want to deal with.
CP: Have you got a rough mental deadline for when you’d like to see it out?
BS: About two years. So 2012.