Tuna Ötenel is one of the first and most important names that come to mind when jazz in Turkey is concerned. Not only due to the fact that he is the composer and a performer in the first Turkish jazz album (Jazz Semai, 1978), but also because his piano and saxophone talents, his sharp hearing, his collaborations with musicians such as Erol Pekcan, Muvaffak Falay, Selçuk Sun and Emin Fındıkoğlu and his life-long passion for jazz.
I feel lucky to have worked with this humble master of jazz who knows all the nooks and crannies of mainstream jazz and is ready to share about it. I met him in 2005 when he released his 3rd album “How Much Do You Love Me?”. Monday mornings at Bilgi University’s Music Department meant Tuna Ötenel for me in 2005 and 2006 during my years as a student there, when I also found the opportunity to work with some of the most esteemed musicians of Turkish jazz stage such as İmer Demirer, Kürşat And, Can Kozlu, Selen Gülün, Cengiz Baysal and Erkan Oğur. The yearning to start the week with and to learn from this musician, the leading name of Bill Evans’s piano style in Turkey who came once every week from Ankara to Istanbul for just a few hours, only to return in the evening, was enough for me to wait in the classroom at 9 in the morning…
I couldn’t find the things I learnt from him in any theory book, just like any mentor-protege relationship. 1.5 years went on fast, our classes came to an end but our communication kept on getting warmer and warmer. I always look for a way to stop by Tuna Ötenel and his dear wife Berin Ötenel’s house in Gölbaşı every time I am in Ankara since 2009 (It has been 10 years!). It is great that Dostlar Theater, with whom Berin Ötenel also worked with as a theater artist for a while, also is the cause of most of these visits… Whenever we have a tour in Ankara, if it lasts for at least two days, my first order of business is to call Tuna and Berin Ötenel and ask if they are available.
Tuna Ötenel & Yiğit Özatalay (Photo: Berin Ötenel)
I found myself in Gölbaşı these days last month during the “Merhaba” tour with Yürüyen Merdiven’s new album “Yok mu, Var” in my hand.. They greeted me as if I was their son with their usual hospitality. A beautiful interpretation of “Body and Soul” was playing on their sound system as I entered. I asked “Who are these musicians?” and Tuna Ötenel replied “Toots Thielemans Quartet” and continued “but what really concerns me here is the pianist here. I was looking for who he was for days, months maybe, and wasn’t able to find out… But now I am sure, it is Bill Evans!” I was listening to the music and Tuna Ötenel at the same time. The pianist sounded like Evans at times, and didn’t at others. “Look, look” said Tuna Ötenel, “these movements, the ones with block chords, these melodic sentences, but he is in his youth here, his style hasn’t formed yet, but it is clear that’s him… Look”, adding “these movements couldn’t belong to anyone else but Bill Evans!”
I remember our classes at Bilgi University. Those classes during which I listened to Tuna Ötenel playing as if I was listening to Evans himself when I was at the height of my Bill Evans admiration. Ötenel told me, in his usual sweet but tough tone, during one of our first meetings —I jotted the date down as 5th of December, 2005— “Your playing isn’t copying anyone else, that’s really bad!” I cannot say I understood what he meant at that point but I think I approached these words with fear and hesitation. But later on I understood that learning starts with imitation and that jazz isn’t a genre that could be learnt from books. He would always say “Listen to the oldies” and would add “Lennie Tristano, Lee Konitz, Wynton Kelly… and of course Bill Evans”.
I noticed two things in Tuna Ötenel in regards to Evans, and therefore learnt from him. First was to be self-sustainable on the piano, meaning to become an orchestra on your own on the solo piano. For example, we played Evan’s interpretation of “A Time for Love”. Ötenel would ask me to think about the internal movements, lines of the piece as I played the piece’s melody as if I was conducting an orchestra. He would say “Don’t forget to accompany yourself” meaning my left hand. But none of these things should cause chaos; plain in rhythm and harmony, economic and clear as well. Just like our work on Dave Brubeck’s “The Duke”…
The second important element was my teacher directing me to pick a piece and learnt it in the best way possible. I see the same thing when I look at my practice notes: “Everytime We Say Goodbye” for weeks, “Here’s That Rainy Day” for weeks, “Soul Eyes” for weeks. I was surprised when I came across a similar suggestion from a Bill Evans quote: “Instead of playing 30 pieces in an hour, give 30 hours to one piece.” Just like Tuna Ötenel saying “Play a single piece, play it fully, play it well.”
Yiğit Özatalay & Tuna Ötenel (Photo: Berin Ötenel)
Let’s go back to Gölbaşı and to listening to Toots Thielemans Quartet with my teacher. I raise my head only to see Tuna Ötenel picking up the cornet to draw lines in the music flow… I was surprised how advanced he got with cornet, which he adamantly picked up following his illness. At the same time, I remember him “conversing” with the music, meaning that he expressed himself with it and doing the same in class. Of course there were notes and theory in the class but for Tuna Ötenel, application was very important just as Mahler said “The only thing not written in the partition is music”. For example Gerry Mulligan’s “Line for Lyons” or Horace Silver’s “Strollin”… He would say “Watch me” and sit at the piano for both these pieces. All the movements, sense of rhythm, of course harmony, the voicings… All the details were hidden in the performance of the piece itself. The teacher would want me to listen and transcribe. Our communication in his classes was just like a master carpenter teaching his protege how to craft a table. He would say “Watch me, try to do it like this, and to understand this feeling” instead of talking much on music theory.
Back in Gölbaşı again after these thoughts and to me taking out Yürüyen Merdiven’s album, which I signed for Tuna Ötenel. He says “Let’s listen right away”. I put the CD in the tray. He starts to get emotional right away during the piano intro of the first track… He picks up the cornet again when he gets in the groove and starts playing lines. I am overjoyed. I tell the story of every piece, he listens and talks about the album at the same time. I talked about Mustafa Kemal Emirel, Tülay Günal, Tolga Bilgin, Ülkü Aybala Sunat and of course about Genco Erkal. He really likes the album, and even gets teary-eyed on occasion. I feel relaxed when he likes the album, I feel at peace. He returns the favor, surprising me, and signs the reissued LP of “Jazz Semai”, released many years after its initial release, and gifts it to me. What an invaluable gift…
There is another moment in my life when I felt such an emotion through Tuna Ötenel once again, in Krakow, Poland. I attended Krakow Music Academy for a year to study composition following our classes with my teacher through the Erasmus program. Tuna Ötenel said repeatedly: “You will go to Janusz Muniak’s club in Krakow”. So I did. This jazz club was used as a shelter during WWII, one of the many used the same way. I introduced myself: “I am Tuna Ötenel’s student”. Janusz Muniak’s facial expression changed right away “Oh, you are one of his students?! Then you will play tonight!”. He had his own gig that night and said “You will be my pianist”. I played with much enthusiasm, of course. “But Not For Me”, “All The Things You Are”, “Just Friends that I personally practiced with my teacher… It was an unforgettable night for me. I already knew the story of Tuna Ötenel’s piece called “Polonya”; it is about how Polish people embraced him as one of their own, but it was incredible to see how admired and valued Tuna Ötenel was abroad. And of course, one of the photos hanging on those red brick walls of that shelter belong to Tuna Ötenel. Life is beautiful when you catch these special moments; these epiphanies…
It was incredible to visit Tuna Ötenel, who spent a lot of effort on me, in Ankara, to remember my memories with him, to share the moment and most importantly, to see him healthy and full of life. I would like to thank his wife dear Berin Ötenel for her warmth and hospitality. I wish them both health and love!
