Terri Lyne Carrington is the definition of Black girl magic.
Revered jazz player Terri Lyne Carrington is cool, calm and collected, but her schedule

Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Terri Lyne Carrington is just 11 years old and hanging backstage at a concert hall with her friend āEllaā ā thatās Ella Fitzgerald to us mere mortals ā and the jazz legend wants to introduce her to jazz virtuoso Oscar Peterson, who had just finished performing.
āElla Fitzgerald says, āYou need to hear her,āā Carrington, now 55, recalls. āShe was just somebody who would encourage me and hang out with me. She was shy, and I was disarming because I was a kid. She took a liking to me.ā
So Peterson invites the young drummer to perform alongside him before the audience escapes. They jam onstage, impressing the crowd. One attendee ā the then-President of Berklee College of Music ā was so wowed he offered Carrington a scholarship to the exceptional music school.
āIt was really because Oscar let me play but (also) because Ella introduced me to him and told him, basically, he should hear me," she said.
Anointed by jazz legends, literally, Carrington was destined for greatness. Four decades later, sheās proven she is not only great, but groundbreaking.
Sheās earning the highest honor bestowed on jazz artists, the prestigious NEA Jazz Masters Award. The three-time Grammy winner is nominated for best instrumental jazz album ā an award she won in 2014 and is the only woman to do so in the showās 63-year history. She worked as a musical and cultural consultant on the hit Disney/Pixar animation āSoul,ā making sure it portrayed the jazz world accurately. And sheās the founder and artistic director of the Berklee Institute of Jazz and Gender Justice and has spent nearly 16 years teaching at the college, well versed in Zoom thanks to the recent pandemic.
She is the personification of Black girl magic.
āI knew she was going to open some doors since she was around 12 years old,ā 11-time Grammy winner and jazz icon Wayne Shorter said. āSheās one of the finest drummers in the world. She has a lot of finesse. She decorates. And she can also drop some bombs.ā
Shorter, 87, remembers auditioning 12 drummers for a tour and hearing Carrington play, leaving him in awe.
āWhen Terri played, she mixed things up,ā he said before using his mouth to imitate her drum playing, starting slow then speeding up his rattle.
āShe was doing some historical stuff,ā he continued. āShe made the bass drum sing and the tenor drum sing and the snare drum, not just rattle, she knew how to put pressure, release and have a flowing (set). She knew how to tell a story.ā
āWe didnāt tell all the other drummers who was going to be the one. We just said, āWeāll call you later on.ā And as soon as everybody left, we said, āTerri Lyne, you stay here.āā
Carrington, who grew up in Medford, Massachusetts ā just minutes from Berklee in Boston ā first played saxophone and piano but fell in love with the drums at 7.
She came to national prominence decades ago as the drummer in āThe Arsenio Hall Showā band and earned her first Grammy nomination with her 1989 debut, āReal Life Story.ā
Twenty-two years later she scored her second Grammy nomination, and first win, with her fifth album āThe Mosaic Project.ā And she's honed her skills on the road, playing alongside Herbie Hancock, Al Jarreau, John Scofield, Dianne Reeves, Stan Getz, Cassandra Wilson, David Sanborn, Clark Terry, Joe Sample, Woody Shaw, Diana Krall and James Moody.
At the March 14 Grammys she could continue to make history. āWaiting Game,ā her album with her band Social Science that explores heavy topics like politics, racism, sexuality and police brutality, is nominated for best jazz instrumental album, the award she previously won for 2013ās āMoney Jungle: Provocative in Blue.ā The only other frontwoman to earn a nomination for that Grammy was Carringtonās mentee, the skilled saxophonist Tia Fuller, for an album Carrington produced.
āThe jazz instrumental category is a really big category. To have risen to the top of that via jazz critics is something that I donāt take lightly. Especially because I didnāt assume at all that this one would get that kind of recognition from the critics,ā said Carrington, who won DownBeat magazineās Critics Poll for top jazz artist, top jazz album and top jazz group ā making the drummer the first female instrumentalist to win in all three categories in the same year in the magazineās 68-year history.
āThose critics seem to be older generation, I donāt want to say, white guys, is what it feels like ... For them to embrace this album the way they have really taught me a lot,ā she said. āNot to judge other people. Other people are really hipper than you thought. I really had to look at myself. I just felt like, āTheyāre not going to get it.' And they did.ā
Carrington spent three years creating āWaiting Game,ā which features collaborations with Esperanza Spalding, Rapsody, Malcolm-Jamal Warner, Meshell Ndegeocello and more. āI wanted to surround myself with people that were younger than me, that had their pulse on whatās happening in jazz today,ā she said.
But Carrington is still a spring chicken, sort of, in jazz. At 55, sheās one of the youngest to receive the NEA Jazz Masters Award and one of few female instrumentalists to earn the honor. Fitzgerald turned 68 the year she entered the famous jazz club and Sarah Vaughan was 65, earning the prize a year before she died.
āItās always a great honor to be the first to break through something. I think Iāve had a long career doing that,ā Carrington said.
But she adds that she āstarted looking at it differently since I became the first woman to win a Grammy in instrumental jazz. I think from that moment it made me feel like, as much as I feel honored to have received these accolades and awards, the bigger problem is that it hasnāt happened before. Thereās been women before me that have had lots of amazing work out there, one being Geri Allen.
āEven with the Grammy, I was the first woman even nominated in that category. That seems really crazy to me and really speaks to how we have to change this. With this triple crown win with DownBeat, itās the same kind of feeling.ā
Carrington has a number of theories when it comes to the lack of female jazz instrumentalists on the scene, starting with there just aren't enough of them.
āThereās a lot of reasons for that patriarchy. We can go back. When slavery ended men could travel. They could go on the road and bring their guitar and play in juke joints around the corner and make money. That was respectable, but it wasnāt for women,ā she explains.
Carrington said it was later OK for women to sing or play instruments such as piano, violin or even the flute. āInstruments that feel more feminine, for whatever reason, to a society that gendered instruments,ā she says.
āItās very different sitting at a piano than sitting at a drum set. I sit at a drum set with my legs open, standing in front of a band and leading a band and blowing a horn ā that just wasnāt really what was accepted as much.
āMost of the time (women) have to work harder and donāt have the same access and support. That makes it not fun, so women quit."
Has Carrington ever quit, or thought of doing so?
āNever,ā she boldly says, adding: āWell because I had support. My dad was my biggest champion and he knew everybody, and nobody really messed with me because I was kind of protected in that way. I didnāt have to worry about some of the silly stuff. I had access to all these great musicians. I had talent that they were willing to engage with.ā
And now she wants to make sure she passes the torch.
āIām late to the party,ā she admits. āI was just really worried about being as good of a musician as I could be and following my dream. Then eventually I was like, āWhoa!ā What am I doing to really help this situation? Once I realized I wasnāt doing very much, I decided that I had a responsibility.ā