Herbie Hancock

“Yo, son, I’ll tell you everything you wanna know about Herbie Hancock,” says Hip-Hop Nick, my swaggering Lebanese Phishhead-turned-jazzbo-turned-B-boy-producer neighbor from down the hall. “I know that cat’s solos like some folks know words,” he brags.

Sitting at an upright piano he bangs out a note-perfect segment of “Actual Proof,” a funky cut from 1974’s Thrust, spitting the hi-hat part between his teeth. He then turns his attentions to the wistful title track of 1965’s acoustically questing Maiden Voyage, his eyes lost in the melody. Suddenly, he stops.

“Be sure to ask him about his acting. That scene on the boat in Indecent Proposal.”

Anything else?

“Oh, yeah, ask him when he’s gonna get with the ARP Odyssey shit again; all those vintage synths. You know, from ‘Chameleon.’ That shit was dope.”

Hip-Hop Nick, it should be noted, isn’t particularly down with what the legendary keyboardist is up to these days: guest spots with jam-rock behemoths Widespread Panic at Bonnaroo, a new version of the Headhunters featuring acoustic-pop heartthrob John Mayer (dubbed Headhunters ’05), and a partnership with Starbucks to distribute Possibilities, Hancock’s new duets record (due in late August) which guest-stars—to name a few—Mayer, Christina Aguilera, Sting and Phish’s Trey Anastasio.

But Hancock isn’t necessarily expecting people like Nick to be down with it, either.

“Starbucks is a very innovative company,” the 65-year old Hancock assesses from his Los Angeles studio. “You can see that from the business model they’ve set up. They have a brand, and I think that brand is very compatible with what this record is really about. They serve all ages, all demographics.”

So does Hancock who—taking a lesson from his former boss, Miles Davis—stopped worrying about the purists long ago. It was an attitude that led him to revolutionize fusion with the original Headhunters lineup in 1973, and turn a million kids onto turntables with 1983’s smash “Rockit” single, featuring Grandmixer D.ST. With collaborations the rage of the Billboard charts (not to mention the Grammys) it seems a fine reason for Hancock to try something new.

"I’m very conscious of the fact that artists are put into pigeonholes that are defined by whatever resonates first with the audience,” says Hancock. Tailoring a new collaborative approach for each session, Hancock cut everything from Billie Holiday ballads (“Don’t Explain” with Irish folkster Damien Rice) to fresh improvisations (“Gelo No Montana” with Anastasio).

“My feeling was that if they brought what they brought to the table, and I brought my years of experience, my curiosities—which is one of my motivations—would be satisfied. I was sure that the result would at least be beyond that pigeonhole. In many cases, maybe a third thing would result, that neither one of us could have done by ourselves.”

Coffee-fueled sales?

It also might move a bunch of discs—“collectively, these artists have sold more than 350,000,000 albums worldwide,” the promotional material reminds, veritably emphasizing the seven zeroes—and could send a lot of highly caffeinated folks scrambling to Amazon, iTunes and more renegade outlets to plunder Hancock’s brimming catalog.