Q: The man and his music

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY QUINCY JONES

BY Quincy Jones (Doubleday, $26)

The name Quincy Jones has been syn

onymous with success for more than 40 years. As a musician, producer, composer and arranger, Jones has seen and done it all -- from bebop to hiphop. He's made his mark in movies, TV and magazines, and his passion for his work is matched only by his zeal for living. All his professional life, he's walked with giants on the way to becoming one himself.

But the story Jones tells in the cel ebratory Q: The Autobiography of Quincy Jones reveals that his achievements often came a great personal cost. There were countless lows and highs on his road, from sleeping on a cot in a closet as an impoverished child to waking up in the White House's Lincoln Bedroom on the first day of the millennium.

Jones grew up getting in and out of scrapes with his younger brother, Lloyd, in Chicago and in and around Seattle. The boys grew up lacking maternal affection - they watched as their schizophrenic mother was taken to a mental hospital and faced hostility from their stepmother. Their father struggled to provide for them and six subsequent children and stepchildren, and the boys mostly fended for themselves.

One day, Jones broke into a recreation center to steal food and discovered a piano. He was drawn to it and found his calling. Music gave him the affection and acceptance he craved, and he soaked it in in all its forms. Eventually, he became a good trumpet player, but would later excel as an an-anger.

Jones' life has been peopled by a dazzling array of colorful characters and legends. As a teen, he backed a stoned Billie Holiday. As a New York neophyte in 1945, he was conned out of his last $17 by Charlie Parker. He traveled the country with Lionel Hampton and traveled the world with Dizzy Gillespie. It was Frank Sinatra, however, who first called him Q. Jones and Michael Jackson collaborated on Thriller (1982), at the time, the biggest-selling album ever. And in 1985 it was Jones who got 46 superstars to check their egos at the door to record "We Are the World" to raise money for famine relief in America.

Through it all, he indulged in his voracious appetite for women - models, dancers, actresses, singers, the famous and the not-so-famous. He had three marriages, three divorces and one nervous breakdown. He fathered seven children with five women. He battled racism, bad luck and even doubts earlier in his career because of his youthfulness, but he never missed a beat.

Jones details it all with candor, wit, a touch of regret and no trace of bitterness. He admits that his infidelities wrecked his relationships, that he was a sometimes inattentive parent and avoided facing problems by burying himself in work.

Just as telling is what others say about him. Two brothers, two exwives, three children, best friend Ray Charles and music executive Clarence Avant give different perspectives on Jones, who was sometimes oblivious to the effects of his actions. But whether they share laughs or vent frustrations, they all ultimately love and admire him. These chapters - interspersed with those by Jones - sometimes muddle the chronology, but what they add is far more important.

Not surprisingly, there is an infectious rhythm to Jones' storytelling, though he loses steam after he talks about breaking down after divorcing Peggy Lipton. He uses these closing pages to bring us up-to-date on his myriad projects (including a recently released four-CD boxed set from Rhino Records, a companion to his autobiography), to make acknowledgements and to briefly reconcile with the spirit of his late mother. He takes deserved pride in his career and children and thankfully leaves the cataloging of his prodigious resume to the nearly 50 pages of appendices.

Most compelling at this point are family contributions, including a warm testament by daughter Rashida Jones, an actress/musician who was 10 when Quincy and Lipton, together 14 years, divorced. She used to curl up and fall asleep on the floor near him as he stayed up nights composing, and they still bond through music. The last of his brother Lloyd's three chapters is also the book's most powerful. Written as he was dying of kidney cancer in 1998, he talks compassionately about their mother. He thanks Quincy for inspiring him and for letting him share some reflected glory. It's a poignant parting gift to Jones from the person closest to him.

Steve Jones is a USA Today music critic.

Copyright Crisis Publishing Company, Incorporated Nov/Dec 2001
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved