I first met Quincy Jones in 2011 at a lavish gala in New York City honoring Sean Penn for his work in supporting Haiti. Petra Nemcova, former supermodel and philanthropist put us at the same table, thinking we might have fun together. That would be the underestimation of the century and would lead to a beyond beautiful and spiritual relationship for the next 13 years.
At the gala, we spoke for hours about music and old Hollywood and what I came to learn about Q, as his friends called him, is that he thrived on learning about you and not filling the air with his greatest hits. He told me that he loved my film “The Last Mogul,” a documentary on Hollywood titan Lew Wasserman, and then invited me to screen the film at his home in Los Angeles. Cue the magic.
I arrived at Q’s magical home in Bel Air as instructed at 3 p.m. I was brought into a living Architectural Digest spread by his sister-in-law who acted as the estate manager. The house, designed by the same architect who built major hotels in Hawaii and California, was like a museum designed by Missoni and scored by Quincy. I would now receive my first lesson in the world of Q. You wait for the grand entrance, but you will be entertained. For two hours, I listened to Quincy’s music piped into the room and munched on homemade guacamole and seaweed chips that was laid out like a feast in front of me. The master living room with the jaw-dropping California views featured a baby grand where everyone from Stevie Wonder to Lang Lang played to a treasure of his awards, including his Oscar and 28 Grammys.
While I was lost in a dreamy loop of some of his greatest hits like “One Mint Julep” (1961), “Soul Bossa Nova” (1962), “The Pawn Broker: Main Title” (1964) and “Billie Jean” (1982), Q made his entrance two hours later, yelling: “What’s up Big B?” He was casually dressed in what looked like a Missoni caftan and sat right next to me on the couch and began devouring the guacamole and seaweed. He wanted to know about everything I was working on, my astrological sign — and hearing that I was a Taurus, declared us brothers for life. I was still speechless and unprepared for what he planned for us for the next 24 hours. The screening would have to wait, he had another idea.
Q always slept late, so his 5 p.m. was his time for his breakfast and it was over a meal with more seaweed, fruit and delicious tuna salad that he laid out the plan for the evening (his afternoon).
We jumped into a car and were driven to the iconic Capitol Records recording studios where Q had recorded everyone from Frank Sinatra to Michael Jackson. I then in watched in awe while Q produced a young Cuban protégé that he had discovered and brought to Los Angeles. Take after take, Quincy, now 78 years old was still the master. The Cuban pianist, Alfredo Rodrigues was already exceptional, but Q took him to another level. Q’s instinct for mixing, layering and lingering notes was simply incomparable. Say what you will about producers like Phil Spector and David Foster (both brilliant), but Quincy has invented another kind of cool. All you had to do to see that was listen to “Thriller” (Michael Jackson) or “Gimme The Night” (George Benson).
By midnight, the session was over and Quincy was famished. No problem. He simply speed dialed his friend, Nobu Matsuhisa of Nobu Restaurant fame, and just said we were on the way. Over a feast of sushi (his lunch), we discussed life and he grilled me about future plans and my film projects. It was now 3:00 a.m. when we pulled into the circular drive of his estate that was punctuated with Japanese light globes that hung from the eucalyptus trees. He invited me to continue his master class but I could not keep my eyes open. I promised I would be back next month.
For the next 13 years, I tried to see Q on just about every trip to Los Angeles. I did finally screen “The Last Mogul” for him, listened to his salacious Michael Jackson gossip and was even proud to include him in my films on David Foster (Netflix) and Oscar Peterson (Hulu). But this was more than just a friendship, it was a brotherhood. When I had scar tissue from a horrendous business relationship, Quincy hugged me said, “Brother, you can’t have a beautiful picture without the negative.” He was always there to heal and guide.
Quincy Jones told me his doctors in Zurich had promised him he would live to 100 if he followed their plan. He was excited by that news as he so loved what he called “Keep on, keeping on.” He didn’t make 100, but he lived more life and gave people more life than anyone could have in 100 years.
Barry Avrich is the creative force behind Melbar Entertainment Group, one of the largest producers of non-scripted content in North America. Barry has produced and directed over 65 award-winning documentaries and filmed productions including “Made You Look,” “The Last Mogul,” “Prosecuting Evil,” and recently “Born Hungry” with Priyanka Chopra Jonas. Barry’s best selling memoir, “Moguls, Monsters and Madmen,” was released in 2017 and his new book “The Devil Wears Rothko” (Simon & Schuster) will be released in June 2025.
