“Live every day as if it were your last, because one day you’ll be right.” This quote from Quincy Jones has always been one of my favorites, and unfortunately on the morning of Monday, November 4, I learned of his passing. Because of his advanced age, I knew this day would eventually come, but I was nonetheless shocked.
A few days earlier I had been in Los Angeles with a visit to Westlake Studios planned, along with meetings with several of his musicians — all of whom spoke of him with unending praise. So he was very much on my mind during that California trip, and I didn’t imagine him leaving us just as I was returning to France.
When an artist who has accompanied us in daily life departs, we replay their records and memories resurface. It becomes a kind of personal review that allows us to realize the mark they’ve left. For Quincy, it’s clear that he will remain one of the most influential figures in 20th-century American music. And yet it was far from guaranteed, given how far he started.
Born in 1933 in Chicago, he spent his childhood in poverty, with a mother who ended up in an asylum. In that situation, it would have been easy to fall into delinquency. Fortunately, he immersed himself in music, and even as a teenager was already something of a miracle story. I won’t recount his entire journey that took him from being a friend and trumpeter of Ray Charles to one of the most respected producers on the planet — many sites can do that better than me, and I never sought to compete with Wikipedia.
I will speak from my point of view as an admirer who loved much of his work. Becoming a Michael Jackson fan and examining album credits made me interested in Jackson’s producer and broadened my musical knowledge. For me, it all began with the trilogy *Off The Wall/Thriller/Bad*, but over time I learned to include *The Wiz* soundtrack in that pattern, because without it, nothing that followed would have happened. While I understand some reservations about the film itself, I find that soundtrack magnificent.
Quincy’s team of musicians and technicians expanded over the albums, but the base was already there for *The Wiz*, alongside engineer Bruce Swedien, another iconic figure in Jackson’s discography. After devouring all these albums, I wanted to understand how one could achieve such a level of talent and excellence. The answer was that Quincy Jones chose the best musicians and refined his selection according to each track.
He had an instinct and musical ear that allowed him to call on Eddie Van Halen for a rock guitar solo, Greg Phillinganes and David Paich for beautiful piano melodies, and Steve Porcaro and Michael Boddicker for synthesizer programming. The same went for composers in different styles like Tom Bahler and Rod Temperton, and when incorporating new sounds with the Synclavier, he was always open — explaining his longevity across decades and genres.
That desire to renew himself also meant finding new talent. You could cite singers like Siedah Garrett and Brandy, whose participation at just 16 on *Q’s Jook Joint* in 1995 marked a turning point toward hip-hop with *Back On The Block*. It’s impossible to name them all here, but this team around Quincy gave me the desire to explore his own solo albums like *The Dude* (released a year before *Thriller*) and the compilation *From Q With Love* (1999), which contains, in my opinion, a gem in the track *I Am Yours*.
This duet between Siedah Garrett and El DeBarge feels perfect and makes you wonder if Quincy didn’t imagine Michael joining again. I adore this song, but every time I listen, I feel a sense of a missed rendezvous. In 1999, Michael Jackson had nothing left to prove, and I think that this turn with *Invincible* might have taken a different course by returning, even briefly, to the source. That evolution of the Jackson/Jones collaboration deeply fascinates me, and I will come back to it more in detail later.
Quincy’s discography goes beyond Jackson. I turned to other albums he produced — from George Benson to Rufus, the Brothers Johnson, Donna Summer, and James Ingram — that list is far from exhaustive. Those who know me well know that my favorite band is Toto, whose members are pillars of this musical universe. I’ve often been grateful to Michael Jackson for allowing me to turn toward this group, because they brought so much to my life.
Over the years, I’ve come to fully realize that this gratitude also applies to the producer of those albums. Since I began writing about the King of Pop, Quincy has always been an integral part of that story. I remember many interviews preparing questions, and he was always there; I felt I had to mention him as he deserved.
In 2013, the year my first book came out, I saw him for the first time during his 80th birthday concert in Montreux with many of the *Thriller* studio contributors. I even had my book signed by John Robinson, Siedah Garrett, and Rod Temperton. Yet I didn’t get Quincy’s signature when I passed him on the street, partly due to a kind of block and my being impressed by the man. I now somewhat regret that choice and planned to do it next time — which I did when he came to the Vienne Jazz Festival.
I recall bringing a test copy of my book to have signed, and he did sign it in front of me with warmth and kindness — one of my best memories. Quincy would later return to Montreux, and I attended a concert featuring Janet Jackson with Quincy on stage; he even smiled and acknowledged me. Yet none of that lessens the shock of losing him.
Quincy Jones continued to be an inspiration as Michael was, and I developed my work in that spirit. Unfortunately, I can no longer share it with him, but I will continue to honor him as I do Michael, Bruce Swedien, and Rod Temperton. Pages turn, but the importance of honoring these amazing artists remains.
**Rest in peace, Mr. Quincy Jones — and Thank Q!**
