How to Be a Better Human - Jon Batiste | from Design Matters
Episode Date: July 7, 2025Widely recognized as a musical genius and once-in-a-generation talent, Jon Batiste is one of history’s most brilliant, prolific, and accomplished musicians. The Grammy, Emmy, and Oscar-winning star ...joins to discuss his legendary career, connecting people through a shared love of music. This episode originally aired on Design Matters March 31, 2025.For the full text transcript, visit go.ted.com/BHTranscriptsWant to help shape TED’s shows going forward? Fill out our survey here!Learn more about TED Next at ted.com/futureyouFor the Idea Search application, go to ted.com/ideasearch Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.
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Hey everyone, Chris Duffy here.
On How to Be a Better Human, every week we try and help you think a little bit differently
about your life.
And today I want to share an episode from a different podcast from Ted that might also
make you think differently, specifically about your creativity.
The podcast is called Design Matters and it is hosted by the absolutely wonderful Debbie
Millman, who you might have heard on our show just a few weeks ago when we were interviewing
her.
And in this episode we're about to play, Debbie is talking with musical genius John Baptiste
about his legendary career and how he connects people through music.
If you like this episode, you can find more Design Matters wherever you get your podcasts.
We will be back with more How to be a Better Human next week,
but for now, here is an incredible episode of Design Matters.
an incredible episode of Design Matters.
Oh my goodness, it's the best. Bip, bip, bip, bippity, bip, bip, bip,
bip, bip, bip, bippity, leap, leap, boop.
You know, it's a blues, feels great to hear that song
every time, it takes me right back.
From the TED Audio Collective,
this is Design Matters with Debbie Milmo.
On Design Matters, Debbie talks with some of the most creative people in the world about what they do,
how they got to be who they are, and what they're thinking about and working on.
On this episode, John Baptiste talks about why he works so hard.
I can't put half of myself in anything that I'm doing, no matter how big or small.
I have to give it everything.
That's just how I'm wired.
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Maybe you know him as the former bandleader on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.
Maybe you know him from his performances with Alicia Keys, Stevie Wonder, A$AP Rocky, Madonna, or Joni Mitchell.
Or maybe you know about his seven Grammy Awards or his Oscar-winning musical score to the animated Pixar film Soul?
Or maybe you saw the beautiful documentary American Symphony with his wife Suleika Jouad
or have listened to his latest album Beethoven Blues,
a pioneering and playful collaboration with the works of the great Ludwig van.
In any case, somehow, somewhere, you know the music of John Batiste.
He's a musical phenomenon who exists in many of the most joyful corners of our culture.
He joins me today to talk about his life and his extraordinary world. John Batiste, welcome
to Design Matters.
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello.
Hello.
John, I want to start our conversation today with a bold claim you made several years ago.
You stated that Final Fantasy VII is the greatest video game ever made.
Do you still feel that way?
And if so, why?
Final Fantasy VII is the greatest game ever made.
Are in contention for it because the game came out at a time when gaming culture was
in need of something new.
It was desiring something cinematic, something that was world building, something that took
RPGs, role-player games,
and a new direction.
This delivered on all that.
It came at a time when the graphics in video games
were advancing, so you could create this feeling
with the visuals that felt akin to watching a film,
at least for us at the time, now when I look back at it,
it feels like it's old fashioned,
but at the time it was the most cinematic
and synthesized version of the thing
everybody felt we wanted.
In the score, Nobu Uematsu, the composer,
he wrote a score that is such a poignant and well constructed musical
backdrop that it becomes a character.
It's a score that is an embodiment of the story in so many ways, from so many perspectives,
that you can listen to it apart from the game and feel like you're playing the game or you're reading.
It's as if you're reading a novel that is the same narrative of the game.
It's that kind of score that's just, it really is so beautiful.
I understand that you learned how to play piano from learning to play the theme music from some of your
favorite video games.
And in fact, you played so much NBA 2K that you've stated that you're as good at playing
that game as you are on the piano.
Ha!
Yes, yes indeed.
I think that gaming gets a bad rap.
Why?
Why do you think so? Well, you know, it's just one of those things that a lot of parents and kids disagree about.
You know, I had a lot of friends who they would say, man, I play the game and my parents
hate it because I'm not outside or I'm not doing homework.
And I agree, you know, you got to do homework and got to get outside and touch grass
But also there's a thing that happens with at least for me my imagination in my
thought about how to approach reality as a kid who was very quiet very introverted didn't have a lot of
feeling of
Being in control of the world around me,
but had a very rich inner life.
And to have something where I could construct worlds and build characters and create a sense
of strategy on how to approach actual life, actual living.
It was almost like a guidebook,
an avatar for building the John Batiste that you see today.
John, you grew up in a legendary New Orleans musical family.
Your father is a bassist who performed with Jackie Wilson and Isaac Hayes.
He co-founded the Batiste Brothers Band,
which was comprised of him and his seven brothers.
It was not unusual for 30 of your relatives
to play together at once on stage.
Was there ever a moment when you thought,
I love music, but I want to do something
completely different?
You know, there were seven sons,
and the majority of my uncles played music, and I want to do something completely different. You know, there were seven sons and majority of my uncles played music and they would play around
city and when I was growing up, they were pretty much in the retirement phase of the band.
They didn't tour as much as they had in the 60s and 70s and even into the 80s. So when they would play it would always feel like a family reunion
or a gathering or just something that felt like much less about it being this profession
and more just a way of life, the way that we lived and connected with each other. And we sometimes have 50 people on stage at the
encore of a show. You would have the cousins and all of the nephews and
nieces and lots of people that were musicians but also some who weren't, who
was still just dabbling music and by the end of the show felt very much like a tribal ritual where there was
music happening and people were dancing and it wasn't about any one person.
That was the biggest influence that I took away from my family and the music that they
made besides my father being a musical mentor for me and my mother
being a mentor for me throughout my whole childhood, it was that communal feeling and
that feeling of ritual, that feeling of it being an expression of everyone collectively
within a culture, within a lineage. It's funny
because I still take that communal vibration with me whether I'm playing
Beethoven or I'm playing in an arena with Prince or if I'm doing a love write
with my band Stay Human,
it's all connected to me.
I don't hear a difference or feel a difference.
You grew up in Kenner, Louisiana,
and I understand that your first instrument
was playing guitar on an old tennis racket.
You then graduated to drums.
Now, your mother had a career as an environmental activist,
but it was actually she who enrolled you in your first piano lessons,
along with your older sister.
And you said that your mom is a visionary and a clairvoyant
when it comes to understanding what someone should be.
What do you think she recognized in you at the time?
Mom has a gift to see the truth of things.
She can look and really zero in on what's happening and see what someone is saying and
also what they're not saying. And that goes for any of the great clairvoyant or near prophetic folks in the history of
the world.
There's just something that they have the ability to see that other people can't see
and it's true.
So she has that and she was really very much a part of the early
years of me figuring out what instrument to land on eventually it being the piano
and figuring out how to go about pedagogy, how to study the instrument, how
to get your craft to a level where no matter what you and your ability is untouchable.
You can do whatever it is that you want to do, which you imagine it can be real.
And she was very, very important in my journey to get to the place of studying the instrument
with that kind of mentality. You were 11 years old when you started playing piano, but have said that it was very late.
11 years is too old to start learning an instrument.
Well, 11 for a professional musician in New Orleans is
pretty
late. If you think about my peers, you know, I had
folks who I grew up with, these real prodigious talents, started when they were three, and by the time we were 13, they had
been a decade long veteran playing shows and touring. You know, talking about folks the likes of Trombone Shorty,
Troy Andrews, who we started,
one of our first projects was starting a band together
when we were both in high school, in 10th grade.
And Trombone Shorty was his name, by the way,
because he played the trombone at the age of two
and the trombone was taller than he
was.
And my other good friend, Sullivan Fortner, who is probably at age five, he was the choir
director and organist at his father's church.
And my biggest inspiration from my cousins was my late cousin Russell Batiste, the young
lion, David Russell Batiste Jr., who passed away last year.
He's pretty much considered one of the greatest drummers in history and inarguably one of
the most important drummers from New Orleans ever. And seeing him play and hearing the stories about him
playing when he was just a kid, he was born with this affinity for the drums and could
play. You know, if there was a griot telling the story and we were going back to the tribe in Africa, he would be the drummer that would just emerge
from the children.
And he would be the one with the orb around him
that is glowing when the drum is put
in the middle of the tribe.
He's got, he had that ability to connect
on a rhythmic level and feel like you're hearing
10 people playing.
How does that happen? Where does that manifest? How do people sort of emerge in their lives at two or three or four years old as prodigies?
Well, there's a prodigy and then there's something that is prodigious, but it is rooted in a lineage of culture that
is very rare to have in the world.
There are hubs of it.
You know, if you go to parts of Brazil or different parts of the Caribbean or New Orleans,
very much so in America, maybe singularly, there's this culture of multi-generational wisdom that's passed down and traditions that
are passed down. It's something that is such a nurtured concept and a nurtured reality.
And there's a spiritual component to it as well. However deep you want to get into that,
I believe there is something that is transferred
from one generation to the next,
and it can be transferred into someone who's two,
but be something that has been in existence in the world
since the beginning of time.
And that's how you can see a kid,
five years old in the second line,
and they're dancing in this way with so much flavor and
verve and energy that it feels like they've been here before.
New Orleans is a place that's, there's a lot of, you know, they got that hoodoo.
There's a lot of magic going on.
It's very much a different thing than the typical prodigy that you would see.
You described yourself earlier in our conversation as a deeply introverted young boy.
I also understand when you were young, you were really terrified of singing.
What made you so scared of singing on stage?
Well, I started singing before I played the piano, and I had very, very traumatic memories
of it because I was so shy. I wouldn't want to sing, and the moments that I would sing
would be moments where I was encouraged to the point of basically being pushed, but not forced,
but almost, just with the peer pressure of my cousins or my family really having this
vision of, you know, as all the black families from that era, you see the Jacksons and Michael
Jackson, the young, cute kid, that's the one that goes up front to sing.
That was me and I was singing, but I was always shy and I always had this feeling of dread
when I had to sing in front of folks.
And I remember when I was growing up in middle school, the day before I had to sing for a
commercial that we were doing, I was playing hide and
seek on the playground and bang, I got an injury.
Fell into the wall.
There was something that scraped my nose and there was a scar just right across my nose.
And it was the day before I had to film this commercial where I was sitting and in a tree and I
was singing it's like the itsy bitsy spider or some some nursery rhyme I
know it's a bit spot actually I remember having to sing it a million times and
the scars on my nose and I'm afraid of heights so I'm in this tree. And I think that that moment really kind of was like, oh wow, this is really, really something
that I'm going to stray away from for as long as possible.
So I don't think I sung publicly again for maybe 10 years.
Those years then I developed a very serious involvement with my studies of the piano and
studies of jazz and studies of being a composer.
Then even having bands, you know, I started leading bands.
I developed very quickly once I started.
So by the time I was 15, I was putting bands together and composing music and playing
jazz shows with with folks all around town and lead my own recording sessions.
So that was a season and then there was another season and then we came back
around to singing. Do you remember the first song you ever wrote? I wrote a song called Red Beans.
Red Beans, we eat red beans every-
Oh, that's on your first album, I believe.
Yeah, that's right. Red Beans.
Which I know is one of your favorite things as well.
Oh my goodness, it's the best.
Red Beans. Oh my goodness, it's the best. Rave. Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep.
You know, it's a blues.
Feels great to hear that song every time.
It takes me right back.
You and Trombone Shorty began sneaking into clubs to play as teenagers.
And you know, I was wondering, you were talking about the trombone being taller than trombone shorty. How did he sneak a trombone into a club?
You know, he's just a legend. One night, I remember we drove up to a club in the Sixth
Ward and it was after school and a band was playing
and they had called Troy and they said you should come down and meet us and
play and at the time and still to this day I don't really play trumpet it's one
of the few instruments that I don't play but he had a pocket trumpet Troy and
and he's like the way we're gonna go in is,
I'm gonna call him and let him know we're outside.
They're gonna open the door,
and we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing.
And we have to just walk in playing. And we have to just walk in playing Yeah, exactly right. It's a beautiful moment because it was like,
I started to play the pocket trumpet,
he's playing the trombone and we're walking and playing.
And then after a while, you could tell the folks
at the door realized that A, oh, I wasn't playing actually,
and B, we were underage, but then we're like,
just let them, just let them have it.
Now I understand that one of the other things that helped you get out of your introversion
was sports.
And I was really surprised when I read this, you played point guard for one of the teams
in your city and you were on an AAU national team and won a championship.
And one of the things that I thought was so interesting was that you said that the experience
taught you a lot about hustle, team hierarchy, and ego. And I was wondering if you could
elaborate on how it taught you that and what you took away from that in your music and included
in your music. Wow, there's so much that you can learn from playing on a sports team.
It's very, very hard to win at that level without a coordinated effort.
It's never one individual.
So all of that's very, very important, very important lessons as an artist,
as a composer, as a band leader.
I remember reading or hearing Michael Jordan.
No, actually it was Scottie Pippen who said that Michael Jordan wasn't just a great player.
He was also the reason that so many of us could play better.
Oh yeah. Yeah. I'm a huge studier of Michael Jordan.
He's like a muse of sorts.
And I've studied how he would practice.
In the practice, he would bring the same level of intensity
or sometimes more than he would bring in a game.
So that when the game happened, it wasn't unusual for him to
push to that level.
What did that do?
It made everyone that was on the team in practice rise to a level where maybe they weren't used
to doing that in their entire career before then.
And then the level of the team rises because everyone is now rising to this level.
It's like that with music.
It's the same thing.
There's some players who, when they play in a band, something happens to make everybody
want to play more together, want to play better.
That's the type of thing that you want to feed, you want to nurture.
Doesn't matter whose name is on the bill.
If you're on a bandstand, you may not be the person who wrote the arrangement, but we got
to be able to talk it out.
We got to be able to discuss what will make it better.
You may not be me, my name is on the headline, but guess what?
I have no ego about you telling me I'm wrong.
The best idea must always rise to the top. And that's what's going to serve the
people the best. That's what's going to nurture everybody that's out there who
came to be a part of this community that we've built around the music. That's why
we're here. I think also that's what makes your live show so electric. There's
this sense of the word isn't really even collaboration.
It's more transcendent than that,
where you're all in the zone together working to make something electric.
John, you released your first album,
Times in New Orleans, in 2005.
You also co-produced the album with your father.
Back then you were a 17-year-old Jonathan Bateiste, very formal.
I was very surprised to see that on the cover of the first album.
Yes.
Times in New Orleans.
Despite growing up with all the musicians in your family being self-taught.
After graduating from New Orleans Center for Creative Arts High School,
you became the first person in your family to go to college for music.
I'm wondering if you can tell us about your audition to get into Juilliard. Well, I had a real lineage of musicians, obviously, as we talked about.
But in my immediate family, going to New York and living in New York, that hadn't happened.
So there were a few things that took an adjustment.
One was the snow.
I didn't have a winter coat.
And the first time I went to New York, One was the snow. I didn't have a winter coat. And the first time I went
to New York, it was snowing. My audition was in the snowy morning after landing the night
before from Louisiana. And it was the first audition of the year at Juilliard. And people
have so much pressure over these auditions because the acceptance rate is so low that you
got to come in and it feels like you're going to play a debut at the biggest moment of your life.
And there's all this energy around it. And you walk in and I'm walking with my Converse All-Stars
and I'm trekking through the snow and I got a hole in my Converse All Stars
at the bottom.
So they just turn into lily pads as I'm walking across the concert hall floor to my audition.
And then I sit at the most grand piano that I've ever seen in my entire life.
And there's anticipation in there. I remember sitting down, settling in,
and looking over to my right,
and there's a panel of stern faced audition monitors,
who are the instructors,
who are a real lineage of jazz musicians
who I've known from records,
but never have met in person before.
And they're there to kind of witness this audition and to prompt me to do different
things.
So I sit and I'm playing and I go through all the different things that I'm asked to
do successfully. successfully and then there's a moment where there's a piece of music that's placed on
the piano, the music bed is set for you to sight read.
Play this piece that you've never seen and we'll just wait until you're done. So I'm looking and as I start to play I'm improvising
while looking at the sheet of music knowing that what I'm playing is not
what's on the sheet of music. The reason being is that I started at 11 and by the time I was 13, I developed my ear so quickly that I sped
past sight reading and I learned to read, but I never really sight read music before.
So I graduated high school a year early, so I'm there 16 or 17 years old and I hadn't
really learned to sight read yet,
but I didn't want to tell them that.
So I start to create music extemporaneously,
which now in retrospect,
I realize was perhaps even more unusual
and singularly impressive for me to do that than to read what was on the page.
So I get in, but I left that audition completely puzzled because I didn't know what they thought.
And there was just such a moment of quandary after it was a moment of silence, pregnant
pause. They say they're looking at me like, hmm.
Hmm.
They're like, hmm, okay.
So let's, you moved to New York City,
you get pneumonia right away.
Did you get pneumonia because of walking in the snow
that day in your lily pad sneakers?
No, so that was, the audition was at a different time.
It was the winter, and then the year goes by into the summer and they let you know and
Then the next fall you go
So I came back after that first audition and I got the letter
And you get in and you sign up and you go up to New York and I move into the dorms and I'm there and then
a week in I'm so low. I'm just like
what's going on? I'm tired. My energy is so zapped and I find out that I have walking pneumonia.
You fainted in the subway, right?
Oh yeah, fainted in the subway, all types of things that just like,
in the subway, all types of things that just like, it was a comedy of errors except there was no laughter, only the errors.
I went to the hospital and that was a moment of truth where I'm in the hospital, they keep
me there for a few days, three or four days, actually almost a week, and I'm sitting there
missing the beginnings of everyone developing their friendships and
the orientation of all the students coming together and the adjustment of moving to a
new place.
And I'm thinking, should I even be here?
What am I doing?
Maybe it's time for me to go home.
Maybe it's time for me to figure out another path.
Just in general, being alone, not having family, I didn't tell my folks until later because
I didn't want to have the situation of making them worried and also feeling like they had
to come up.
But at the same time, it was no one but my cousin, my second cousin Lisa, who lived in
Harlem.
She showed up as my only family.
And then I got out, get back into school and just keep on pushing
and the rest is history. I stuck it out, but that was a moment of truth. Those first few
months were very much a trying time. And even after that, there was an adjustment in terms of the culture of Juilliard and of this sort of European classical New York North Eastern
vibration and approach.
And there's a lot to New York.
It's just the best place to be and also one of the most daunting places to try and conquer
or take a bite out of, the Big Apple, right?
So there's so much, so much stimulus, so much opportunity, so many things pushing a young
artist in different directions, so many things encouraging you or competing for your attention,
both polarities existing all at once from all angles, right?
So that really was something where you have to find yourself in the midst of it all.
And you have to cultivate who you are and construct your style, construct your artistry.
And it felt like a building of something from the ground up.
And in many ways, the first month was that sort of trial by fire, that refinement.
You got to go through the fire to really refine your resolve.
So that was a beautiful thing in retrospect.
In many ways, it was beautiful to face some level of adversity alone and to figure your way through it.
You decided to stay at Jilliard and then go on to get your master's degree.
How did studying classical music impact your musicianship?
Well, I had studied classical music when I was a kid, and my mother was really the one
that in those early years when I was talking about study, she was approaching the classical
side of study in New Orleans, actually.
So she was approaching that form of pedagogy as an important building block.
And I had a teacher, Ms. Shirley, who I studied with for years. And then I moved to New York and I found a teacher who I still study with, William Dogley.
He was and is one of the reasons that I really understood the classical repertoire and understood
piano technique as a whole and the craft that I've built over the years, I'm very
indebted to him for kind of giving me some foundational principles about the instrument.
So between Ms. Shirley in the early years and then moving to New York and working with William and then going to Juilliard. There was a lot of different
perspectives on the canon, classical music and the history of it, understanding all the aspects of
where it has arrived in contemporary culture and its place in contemporary culture.
And thinking about my lineage, my history, and my place in culture and where I come from
and the convergence of all those things.
While you were in school, you were mentored by Wynton Marsalis, you toured with Cassandra Wilson,
you played with Letty Kravitz and Prince,
you scored the organ music for Spike Lee's Red Hook Summer,
you became artistic director at large
for the National Jazz Museum in Harlem.
What was driving you then?
And is it the same thing that is still driving you now?
I'm very driven and I think about my place in history and where I am best positioned
to have the type of impact that will really resonate.
And that's the thing that I think about often that drives me to this day is you have this
real gift of being here, being alive.
You have this time on earth to really do
what only you can do.
You are you.
You are you.
And it just is very much a true gift to be who you are,
whoever you are.
And we have to be able to figure that out
in a very short amount of time.
There's so much that I feel is inspiring or interesting,
or maybe it's something that I am drawn to,
but you have to zero in on a few things
and you have to really find out how to
Maximize everything that you're doing because you just don't have that much time
so for me, that's what I was thinking back then and I'm still thinking like that now and
Sometimes that can come across as perfectionism. I
Can't put half of myself in anything that I'm doing, no matter how big or small.
I have to give it everything.
So whether it's writing a new piece of music
or making an album or a performance,
or whether it's figuring out the best way
for us to have a great vacation with Sulika and I and our
friends or just how to relax at the highest possible level of execution, how to execute
relaxation at the highest level.
That's just how I'm wired. No matter what I've gotten to or what I've been able to do,
I'm always just driving for the core of things.
Just how do we get right to it?
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John, I want to talk about faith for a moment.
I heard you say that you have a Bible app on your phone that you look at daily.
This was several years ago in an interview that you did, and I'm wondering if you still
have that same relationship with the Bible.
Yes, I have a prayer room at home.
And as someone who is away from home in those early years of traveling with different bands when I'm, you know, 17, 18, 19, I'm touring
around the world with Roy Hargrove, you know, Cassandra Wilson. I had the Bible app and the
Bible, you know, Pocket Bible, and then now I have a Bible, it's an audio friend of mine in the
Bahamas gave me this, it's like a necklace that you can wear and there's an audio Bible
attached to it.
Between that and then every time I go back to my room and finding that time to be alone
in conversation with God and the Creator gives you that direction and that love, that divine
alignment occurs in your life and you have a peace that comes
from that. There's a peace that comes and my grandfather, he gave me a Bible. He also,
he passed away last year and he was one of my heroes in life. He wasn't a musician, he was my mother's father. He was instrumental
in helping to really inspire me in my activism and the different ways of using my belief
about humanity and my faith as a means to advocate for people. He wrote in my Bible the year that he passed, he said, keep the faith.
And he used to always say that. He used to always say, you know, every time you sign off, we're talking to him,
keep the faith, you know, you're going through something, keep the faith. That was his thing.
And he lived that. So just between all of those examples that he said
between my relationship with the faith, I've found so much strength and so much of an inspiration in ways that may be evident
in my work and also in other ways that maybe it's beneath the surface, but it's always
there. You talk about music as something divine and how we're all at our best when we're in union
with God or the Creator, and is that something you have to work at?
Oh yeah, yeah.
Well, there's a sense that someone can be closer to God, or think they're closer to God than
someone else, and I don't believe that.
That's not true.
There's no authority to have someone who has dedicated more time doesn't mean that they're
closer to God.
We all have access to God. We all have access to God. That's the part that I think can seem like
a paradox of reality because it does take work, but all of us have access to it. If
you spend the time, then you can have the presence of the Spirit more alive within you
and alive within your life.
And it helps you to deal with the darkness that will come.
And if you don't put the time in and don't put the work in,
God is still always there.
So we can sometimes get into trouble when someone thinks they're an authority or
can dictate to you because they feel that they have more of a line to God than you do.
So that part, I'm always, whenever I share anything about faith, especially for those who may
not have a faith practice, I always want to encourage folks, you know, you don't have
to have a faith practice to know that God is with you.
And once you know that, it changes everything.
You'll find it. You'll find it.
You'll find your way.
You're not on the outside of this.
We're all here.
You've talked about your belief that the Creator has a master plan for our lives,
that He knew us before we were born and all the hairs of our head are accounted for.
Do you have a sense of what the master plan of your life is?
I mean, it's to serve him. To be very clear, everything that I pursue and all the ambition and drive that I have,
it's really about this idea of being a good steward.
You have a gift you've been given, you have a limited amount of time, and there's a lot
of distractions.
Okay, so that's the setup.
That's the equation, right?
So if that's the equation, then you have to figure out when you're doing something how
to do it at the highest level to the best
of your ability as if you were doing it unto God Himself or herself.
Doing everything as if it's unto God, even if I'm seeing someone on the street and they
are in need of shelter or they're in need of some attention, even just a hello.
That's God. There's God there. If you give someone some food who is hungry, you're doing that unto
God. Just this belief to walk in this space, one of my inspirations as my Uncle Thomas, he's not a professional
musician, he's the youngest of the seven, he's the seventh son.
He has this glow about him.
And when we were kids, when we would visit him, because he moved from New Orleans when
we were kids and we would visit him in California.
And whenever he would see someone, he really
embodied that. You know, anytime without fail, he would keep, I remember him keeping money in his
shirt pocket just to give to people who he would see on the street because he felt that we can't
leave these people behind. That's what's really the drive of everything that I'm all about.
So just trying to be excellent at the craft and push it and get to the highest level of
musicianship and be remembered, but mainly remembered for that vibration.
That's what we came up with the idea of calling the band Stay Human.
All of the intention comes from that space.
And I infused that into the craft
and it creates this thing that you see.
So that infusion or tapping into that energy,
how did you make the decision if it was a decision
or how did you evolve to bringing that energy
into your live performances?
I've always wanted to break or evolve the form of everything that I'm doing, and not to be
recognized for it. I think in some ways things are just now catching up to some of the stuff
that my colleagues and I were able to do, which is not an ego
trip or saying anything other than to say that I don't care.
I just want us to be authentic on stage and there's so many things set up for you to be
constricted and for you to fit into a mold that exists instead of to exist as you are.
And for me, if I'm on stage and I'm in a concert hall, just a simple thing of the separation
between the audience and me as a performer is something that I don't prescribe to.
So you have to break form just to create a cohesive experience both sonically from a
technical perspective, from a lighting perspective, from a choreography perspective,
from a musical perspective, from a flow and time perspective, sequence, all these things you have to reconfigure just
to create a relationship with the audience that isn't this hierarchical setup of performer
on stage, up high, audience down low, in the dark observing. And that dynamic also is valuable in certain moments because maybe we want to shift into
a dynamic where I'm in a prayer or meditation posture and there's an observance of that.
So then how do we configure a performance or if you want to call it that, it's really
a spiritual practice.
How do we lead the audience through this spiritual practice and also have them be a part of creating
it?
So then you're doing both.
So then it's not just a breakdown of this relationship, but it's a synthesis and an
additional aspect of it that is being added.
So now it becomes something that I've not seen or heard and there's not a precedent
for it unless I go back into some indigenous cultures or ancient cultures, but even then
it doesn't have the contemporary elements that I'm bringing to it, which is when we started to call what we do social music because the terms, words,
the terms were just not encompassing enough to describe it and genres were too narrow
and dare I say insidious. But then I started to think about how these indigenous cultures, ancient
cultures, ancient rituals were not about entertaining. It's music before it was commodified in this
way where it's put into these genre corridors. And if you play this kind of music, you play
in this kind of place. And if you sell this kind of music, you play in this kind of place, and if you sell this kind of music, you're on this kind of label, and you're in this section, then
you kind of message it and market it and all the things according to that.
And the performance then becomes a commodity that is in line with that thought process.
Well, all of that wasn't in existence
when people were making music
before music was a form of entertainment
and a part of a business structure.
Music as a part of the fabric of everyday life.
Music as a part of the way that we pass on wisdom and a time capsule of our
wisdom and it still is that.
And that was the big epiphany that I had when I was a kid in college.
It was like, oh, music still is that.
So how do we enact that reality of what the power of music is, particularly in live performance,
and also participate in the contemporary world and in the music culture of our time.
That was really my first steps into developing the live performance idiom that I've created that you see whenever you,
you know, in all the different forms of whether it's me at a solo piano or me on the stage
with my band and musicians from around the world or me within orchestra.
Thinking about words, maybe think about how you've evolved your voice.
And you began singing on your albums more prominently
around the time you formed Stay Human.
You have quite a range,
a rather extraordinary range of singing techniques.
Have you, I'm assuming you've studied voice,
the way that you've studied piano.
I did study voice, yes, absolutely.
And still do, as I still study the piano.
In your 2021 album, We Are,
it showcased your voice not just as an instrument,
but you were really fulfilling this role as a storyteller.
It was deeply personal, it was politically resonant.
You were talking about the commodification of music.
One of the most extraordinary things about that album was that
this 11 Grammys you were nominated for were in all these different,
really diverse categories.
The first time that's ever happened in the history of music awards.
But you've been very vocal about your purpose as a musician,
not ever being about being rich or famous.
Did becoming as well-known as you did after winning your Oscar for
Soul and the boatload of Grammys change your perspective to making music?
Were you ever concerned that that sort of outward
kind of judgment or assessment would impact
the sort of divinity that you have in making your own music?
You know, it's impossible for it not to change
your perspective.
There's two things that happen
that are on opposite sides of the spectrum.
One is your perspective shifts
because there's a lot more attention
and a lot more expectation around what you're doing.
But then for me, on the other side of the spectrum,
I had been making music since I was a kid
and professionally doing it, putting out independent albums.
Every other year, an album or an EP independently,
self-produced, self-funded.
My first one, my dad and I produced.
My second one, I'm 19 years old. I'm in New York
My NY yep all albums of diverse musical exploration developing under the banner of my
form of music social music my vision of music and what music is in society today and developing this concept of
is in society today and developing this concept of really paying homage to so many of those who I stand on the shoulders of while also trying to add to this continuum in a way that's
authentic and of the highest level of craft and really being rigorous about all of this
and also trying to make it entertaining and accessible and make a live experience that is both unique and also aligned
with all of those principles of excellence of the great live performers of history.
That means learning how to sing, learning how to dance, learning how to play, learning
how to bandley, learning how to arrange and orchestrate, all these things that I'm bringing
together.
And I felt for many years, especially by the Grammys, that I was doing this and there was
no consequential critical analysis of it.
There was no awards, not even nominations.
There was no recognition of it. There was no sense of, wow, look at
all that this young man and this group of young musicians have decided to be stewards
of, to take on. And it was so counterculture. Even the jazz community and the classical community didn't necessarily embrace it.
And even my mentors who were of the greats
in these different communities
didn't understand it at first.
Many of them didn't know what I was doing
and thought that I was maybe going in a direction
that was aimless.
A lot of this was very lonely.
Then to reach the year 2021, 22,
and to have all of these things in one moment
almost in the span of two or three years be recognized,
it didn't change what my intentions or my approach is because it had been so ingrained
and I had gotten so used to being ignored and developing my wants, getting my wants
in order, getting the things that matter to me in order to the point where, yes, I think
this work should be recognized.
Yes, I think what we're doing is very significant.
And also taking my ego out of it, taking any sort of desire for recognition out of it,
this is important and I would be doing it even if nobody knew and if nobody ever recognizes
it.
So then when I got the highest level of recognition, there was a
funny thing that happened again on two fronts. It changes your perspective because then it kind
of makes you, well, maybe the expectation and the attention is now an opportunity to forward
things and pursue things that I've always wanted to share with a wider base of people
so that it can be remembered in history in a way that influences the next generation and continues
building the lineage of all the things that I know are important and vital to us all.
And then on the other side, I'm like, well, not caring about that is what
And then on the other side, I'm like, well, not caring about that is what
what's pushed me here in the first place. That's what's most important at the end of the day. So it's kind of now a bit of a, it's a negotiation or rather a collaboration between
using the platform and knowing the power of it,
but also staying true to that kid that's within,
that was just doing things and breaking rules
and disrupting from the inside.
So I'm just, it's both.
And I think it's good to have that polarity,
that balance that's happening, because it breeds new things.
It just, I'm in a new era now. Well, you recently released a glorious new album titled
Beethoven Blues, and you are adding genres to Beethoven's music that didn't even exist
when he was alive, flamenco and gospel and soul.
And you've said that the idea for this record was something you felt uniquely positioned to do.
Why is that?
Well, there's a true authenticity to me approaching Beethoven like this,
that perhaps is more authentic than me playing Beethoven as he composed it.
It's more authentic for me to think of all music in this way.
When I hear Beethoven and I'm playing that music when I was growing up and doing piano
competitions and I was playing Bach or I was doing a competition or a recital
and then I would go and play at the Maple Leaf with Trombone Shorty and Troy and I would
play and sometimes I would slip some of that Chopin or that Mozart into our show at the
Maple Leaf.
I've always felt that music in particular going back to the video game music that I
would listen to and I learned a lot vicariously from playing the games and absorbing the score
of the game. Those scores would go all around the world and sometimes within one score there
would be influences from all types of different music. So my relationship with music and melody is not one that's based in thinking of it as
a separate silo.
If you're in classical and the approach to it is the same way.
So it's very authentic to play Beethoven, think about ways that it could it can be
expansive
250 plus years of any melody existing I think
It's due for an update
Because it doesn't revoke
the greatness of what it is and what it what it was created to be and its impact will stand.
That doesn't ever change.
But to expand on what this melody or this body of work,
this canon of work has done in the world,
perhaps is more the objective that we should be thinking about
250 years in rather than preservation. And in particular, when there's so many styles of music
that have come to bear that aren't canon, that should be canon. And we think of these styles and these techniques
in a light that is lesser than what they are.
There's quite a few musicians that cover other musicians' work
and have referred to that sort of coverage as interpretations.
It feels to me when I'm listening to Beethoven blues
that you're having a conversation with
Beethoven.
It feels like there's this back and forthness that's happening.
I don't know if that was something that you intended, but it doesn't feel so much as you're
interpreting as you are conversing.
It's a conversation, 1000% a conversation that is big for me to have at this time in
my life and time in my artistry to go back to classical music and have a conversation
with Beethoven on record.
Now, I noticed that the album has a subtitle and it is, Batiste Piano Series Volume 1.
That leads me to believe that there might be a volume two
and a three and maybe a four.
Any hints as to what that might be?
Yes.
On Mozart, Batiste on Monk, Batiste on...
I mean, there's so many different composers, artists in history that I want to have a conversation
with.
So I'm just imagining that as a place for that.
And there's so many different repertoire, so much that I could see myself in conversation
with. And this is all again a way of
looking at the craft, developing, becoming better, and then sharing that with
community around the world and inspiring folks to be in conversation with these
artists in this repertoire.
So just thinking about it from that perspective, there's so many different volumes of the series
that over the years I could see being made.
I don't know exactly what the next one would be, but definitely be expecting of a lot of
different explorations at the piano.
As I was doing my research in preparation for the show,
I kept finding references you made to the movie Forest Gump.
So I have a couple of examples.
In the GQ 10 essential things,
you talk about Forest Gump, dump in a mug.
Your song, I Need You has the lyrics,
if you was Jenny, I guess I was a Forrest.
And finally, you said this to Quincy
to describe Quincy Jones.
He's like a Forrest Gump.
He appears in history at all these critical moments
and is somehow right at the center of it,
shifting things forward.
So I have a three word question for you.
Why Forrest Gump?
Oh my goodness.
That film has a special quality to it
and the character of Forrest Gump,
Robert Zemeckis, the way they developed it,
and Tom Hanks in that character.
There was something that I saw in Forrest Gump that
I studied and adopted, but also felt kindred to.
For the first year of my life, I had cast on my legs, you know, the scene where he goes
into the doctor, I had a similar moment like that where
they told me I could.
Because I have very flat feet and my legs were crooked and all this stuff, they said
you shouldn't play basketball and you shouldn't dance.
All these things that, you know, my club feet is why I dance like I do.
Like, all of that became the thing that makes me who I am, and signatures of who I am, in
fact, come from these things that early in my life were thought to be maybe posed challenges for me.
Also him being this kind of historical avatar, going through all of these different moments.
Something about that I really relate to just being in different spaces and different circles and somehow being blessed to see things unfold
both as a participant but somehow as an outsider, as an observer at the same time.
I've had a lot of different moments in my life like that and there's a certain trait You see, with that character of pursuing their pure inspiration that I aspire to and relate
to, it sometimes can seem like it's childish.
You know, I also was a kid with, I mean, these days probably probably be diagnosed as neurodivergent. But there's like a childlike quality to being on the spectrum in a way that you don't see
things in the same way as others maybe see them.
It's a lot of interesting things that when I first saw that movie as a youngster, I was
like, oh, interesting.
I like this whole story, but there's a magic to it and there's a quality to it that I relate
to in some way.
And it's Southern too.
It's like a Southern, the way he talked.
When I first moved to New York, there's an accent that I have.
Imagine it stronger.
It's still just almost as strong.
It's like the way they were like, you sound like, there's a lot of folks who called that out to me
without me having to say how much I love the movie.
They just like, you got like this draws,
like Forrest Gump or like Bubba.
Bubba, shrimp.
Bubba Gump, shrimp company.
I like shrimp too, so there you go.
John, in 2016, you played a really magnificent rendition
of Blackbird on The Daily Show in honor of the 50th
anniversary of The Beatles' first appearance on the Ed
Sullivan stage.
And it was put up on YouTube, where it currently has
nearly 4,000 comments.
But there's one comment I wanted
to share with you because I doubt you read comments on YouTube. Marchills4131 said this,
Every once in a while, a talent comes along and you just shake your head and think, this
one's a gift to all of humanity. God bless you, John Battiste. John, thank you so much for making so much beautiful work that matters, and thank you
for joining me today on Design Matters. To read more about John, you can go to his website,
johnbattiste.com. His Grammy-winning film, American Symphony, can be found on Netflix,
and all of his music including Beethoven blues is available
on vinyl and online. You can see John and Suleika on tour celebrating her new book,
The Book of Alchemy, and also John just kicked off his Maestro Tour, a uniquely intimate and
masterful concert experience showcasing his genre-defying artistry. This is the 20th year we've been podcasting
Design Matters, and I'd like to thank you for listening. And remember, we can talk about
making a difference, we can make a difference, or we can do both. I'm Debbie Melman, and
I look forward to talking with you again soon.
Design Matters is produced for the TED Audio Collective by Curtis Fox Productions.
The interviews are usually recorded at the Masters in Branding Program at the School of Visual Arts in New York City,
the first and longest running branding program in the world.
The editor-in-chief of Design Matters Media is Emily Wyland.
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