Connie Ward
All Wilder Deitz knew about Richard Davis when he sat down at the piano the first time to play for him was that he was the demanding, straight-shooting director of UW-Madison’s jazz improv program. He didn’t know that in addition to his scholastic pedigree Davis had also played bass on recordings with Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, Miles Davis, Bruce Springsteen and Van Morrison.
But he had heard one thing over and over. “Richard was a notorious audience,” says Deitz. “He would not mince his words. He would spare no feelings.” After the session, one that he sat in on at the request of a saxophonist, Deitz overheard Davis instructing the reed player: “You need to learn more repertoire. And keep the piano player.”
Fast forward to 2020 and the piano player now has an established career as a musician and educator. Deitz is also seeking a near-east-side location for the Wilder Deitz School of Creative Music, which he plans to open this summer. He calls it an opportunity to offer music lessons “that combine the discipline and excellence of classical training and the creativity and ingenuity of creative music like rock ‘n’ roll.”
With a jazz mentor like Davis and an armload of original compositions, you’d think Deitz would have headed straight to Carnegie Hall after graduating from UW-Madison in 2017. Instead, he headed directly to the Darbo-Worthington neighborhood where he put his degree in social welfare to work as a case manager and youth mentor.
Trouble was, he couldn’t get music out of his head. No one knew it better than the kids he counseled. “I’d be trying to come up with some kinds of social-worky, morality things to tell them to try to inspire them,” Deitz remembers. “And they were more interested in the mixtape I was putting out with my band.”
During a three-month layoff from the nonprofit, Deitz had a revelation: Music is where he wanted to go, even though he never really left it.
While studying under Davis, Deitz had started the Black Music Ensemble program at East High School in 2014. He introduced the program to La Follette High just last year. Along the way he gave private lessons and composed and recorded jazz with his own band and other ensembles around Madison. His brief social work career is a thing of the past.
His new record, out exclusively on vinyl, is called Y’all. The title is an homage to his Southern roots. The Deitz side of the family is from Kentucky. His father, Ritt, is a singer-songwriter.
The album has the throwback, pop-jazz feel of Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life. Deitz smiles when he hears the Key of Life reference. “We spent a lot of time searching for a snare drum that copied the sound on Stevie Wonder recordings.”
Deitz dedicates Y’all to the women in his life: his mother, sister, fiancée, grandmothers and aunts. And the album projects a strong feminine sensibility, with excellent vocal performances from Chakari Woods, Deja Mason and Bobbi Briggs.
On a recent morning at Deitz’s house in the Darbo-Worthington neighborhood, a Sarah Vaughn record (with Davis on bass) plays softly on the turntable. Deitz is an old soul; the kind of serious, thoughtful young man who places a plate of home baked molasses cookies on the table to share. We had just 30 minutes before a student was due to arrive for a piano lesson.
Deitz was unschooled in music — until he wasn’t. He played piano from a young age (and tuba in middle school) but says he couldn’t “read a lick” of music until he graduated from college. It’s part of why Davis’ program for improvisation was so suited for his talents. And in between spending hours book learning music while simultaneously creating it from scratch, he became aware of an unfilled instructional niche.
He saw it in some of his own students: learners who became excellent readers, developed good technique, but who were ready to quit piano because they didn’t have a good creative outlet for it.
Richard Davis believes Deitz’s school will succeed, and doesn’t hesitate when asked what kind of student he had in a young piano player by the name of Wilder Deitz. “One of the greatest,” he says. “Mature, talented and sharing.” Deitz stays in touch with his mentor, visiting Davis about once a month at his east-side assisted living residence where the 89-year-old still sees students. Deitz was instrumental in the effort to name a street after the professor. Last summer, a street in the Darbo-Worthington neighborhood was christened Richard Davis Lane.
“When people ask me my profession nowadays, what I do for work is play and teach music,” says Deitz. “But I call myself a student of music. Because Richard showed me how worthy diving deep is, to find every nook and cranny inside of music that you can and learn about all the theory that you can and write as much as you can. It’s just too delicious to leave alone.”
