Glenn Miller

I haven’t got a great jazz band and I don’t want one. Some of the critics, Down Beat’s among them, point their fingers at us and charge us with forsaking real jazz . . . It’s all in what you define as ‘real jazz.’ It happens that to our ears harmony comes first. A dozen colored bands have a better beat than mine. Our band stresses harmony.

I thought I had swell ideas and wonderful musicians but no one else did.

By giving the public a rich and full melody, distinctly arranged and well played, all the time creating new tone colors and patterns, I feel we have a better chance of being successful. I want a kick to my band, but I don’t want the rhythm to hog the spotlight.

A band ought to have a sound all of its own. It ought to have a personality.

It’s been a big week for our side. Over on the beaches of Normandy our boys have fired the opening guns of the long awaited drive to liberate the world.

I haven’t a great Jazz band and I don’t want one.

Music making is the most joyful activity possible, the most perfect expression of any emotion.

I didn’t need to worry about keys, chords, melody if I had that emotion that brought tears and laughter to people’s hearts.

I love Jazz because it has the perfect balance of discipline and freedom.

A melody is not merely something you can hum.

To imitate someone is to insult them.

Technique is the ability to translate your ideas into sound through your instrument.

When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.

When Jazz broke through in England, I remember sneaking to listen on the radio much to my parent’s disapproval.

Just give a drum roll, announce my name and I come out and sing. I have a contract that says I’m a singer. So I sing.

How can I turn emotion into knowledge? That’s what I try to do with my horn.

Forget about upholding the tradition and just play who you really are.

How do I know why Miles walks off the stage? Why don’t you ask him? And besides, maybe we’d all like to be like Miles, and just haven’t got the guts.

When you begin to teach Jazz, the most dangerous thing is to teach style.

Bebop was about change, about evolution. It wasn’t about standing still and being safe.

Even now, at 82 years old, if I don’t learn something every day, you know what I think? It’s a day lost. Now, I don’t practice every day. I just take the guitar, swear at it. But I should be swearing at myself. But I fool with music. I’m doing something musically all the time. And my ears are wide open for anything I can hear.