Ben Sidran (BS’67, English) has been a major force in the modern-day history of jazz and rock ‘n’ roll, having played keyboards with or produced such artists as Steve Miller x'67, Diana Ross and Van Morrison.
This spring, UW-Madison alumni will have the chance to catch Sidran — one of this year’s Distinguished Alumni Award recipients — on stage when the Wisconsin Alumni Association hosts a five-city tour, with stops in Chicago, Los Angeles, Madison, Milwaukee and New York.
When Sue Zaeske ’89, MA’92, PhD’97 — associate dean for advancement, arts and humanities in the College of Letters and Science— sat down with Sidran at Barriques Coffee Shop near Camp Randall Stadium this month, the conversation included musings on style, storytelling and the real meaning of jazz:
What was the failed opportunity that led you to music?
I couldn’t get a job teaching. In 1971, I had a new PhD from Sussex University in American Studies, and I got a few offers from English departments, but I really was not qualified. At the same time, all of the students who went to graduate school to get out of Vietnam were looking for a job, and the market was flooded. I sent out around 100 letters, and it wasn’t happening.
So I decided to go to L.A. and get into the music business. I was just riding a horse in the direction it was going.
Tell me about developing your style.

Developing style comes from embracing your mistakes and the process of recovery. You can try to artificially brand yourself, but you’ll be found out in a minute — it has to have authenticity to it.
No one talks about style. I once asked Miles Davis where his style came from, and he replied, “It’s like your sweat.” It’s not a verbal process, or a linear or rational process. Your style comes from wanting to imitate your heroes. You try, and fail, and you find yourself in the context of who you aren’t, as opposed to who you are.
I think it takes a lot of courage to develop style.
You have to be stubborn for sure. And have no alternative.
What about risk? Isn’t risk important, and the willingness to fail?
People who really develop a style ultimately have no alternative, because along the way, if you had an alternative, you’d surely take it. Sometimes people say to me, ‘Ben, you designed your life perfectly.’ But I didn’t design anything! I had no choice. I was driven by my love for music, and I am just such a fan. To this day, I can listen to a Horace Silver record, and I’m 13 again, in love with the girl next door, and marveling at the sound of these guys, and it feels exactly the same — nothing has gone.

I could talk for hours on what technology has done to the production of music. In the 1960s, great jazz was recorded in little studios, where musicians sat together and played, and listened to each other in a very physical space.
Suddenly, with the invention of multi-track recording, musicians put on headphones and listened to themselves. You could also go back later and re-record. So now, what was originally captured — a bunch of people together in a room — becomes manufactured. That’s the main thrust of the music business over the last 40 years, and I caught it at the moment it started to happen. I saw how the recording process worked at my first recording session in England, in the studio where the Beatles and the Rolling Stones played. They were so far ahead of the States, because they saw music as theater. In America, everyone was desperate to be authentic, but in the UK, it was about the performance and theatrics. The Rolling Stones weren’t really “street fighting men”— they were art school kids, and you can see how that played out into other artists like David Bowie.
They did the same thing with production, and learned to create oral theater — technique that did eventually make its way to the United States, and here we are today with Lady Gaga.
