Then and Now

When I started playing trombone in the 5^th grade, it was because I wanted to play jazz – not because I thought it would increase my ten-year-old cultural efficacy, or even because I thought it might make a noteworthy contribution to my college application. I wanted to solo, improvise, and swing. I learned my instrument classically through an old man, Mr. O’dell, who has since passed away. However, during our lessons he talked nostalgically about his time as a professional. He told me about “big-band;” about how he had played in Kansas City; about how he was drafted-up by professional big bands when he was very young because everyone else was being drafted into war. Unfortunately, he was old-fashioned, and more accurately, a little bigoted. Thankfully, most of this was not glaringly apparent to my youthful self. Thus, through my first music teacher, I had my first experience of jazz, albeit an extremely generic and removed experience.

Thus, I walked in and out of my lessons wanting to play jazz. As soon as I had the opportunity to join a jazz band, I did. The band leader was Tina Caldwell, and although she might not have been as famous as Duke or King Oliver, she had all of the character. She taught us, a band of little kids, the simplified standards, from the blues to bossa nova. My first experience with bebop was the tune, “Ornithology.”  I later learned the significance – the study of birds.

As I continued my education, I progressed musically and I joined a smaller combo, the Zanja 8. Although we began to play more modern charts, like Dizzy’s “Salt Peanuts,” my knowledge of the history of jazz was still generally encapsulated by Mr. O’dell’s reminiscing during my lessons. Then, in 9^th grade, I did a report on Louis Armstrong. I learned about his life, his music, and his substance use. Even after that, jazz was still something I appreciated for the charts, not for the related back-story. Sadly, when I came to college I stopped playing. Thus, my conception of jazz picked up where it left off in high school. That is, jazz did not represent a century of socio-musical progression; it did not make me think of New York or New Orleans; it did not make me think of Bird’s tumultuous drug habits or Billie Holiday’s rough life. No. Jazz was just a musical style that I appreciated, both as a listener and a musician.

However, after studying the history of jazz, jazz means a little bit more to me. Now, when I think of jazz, I think of it dialogically. I think of all of the places and people it affected. Now, I realize that my original experience with jazz was the product of a hundred different socio-musical digressions in the last two centuries. I also realize that my experience of jazz was nothing like Bird’s, or Duke’s, or Miles’. They lived in a completely different world, and experienced jazz within the bounds of racial segregation and discrimination. For the most part, they lived rougher lives than I could ever think of living. Finally, and most importantly, I think of jazz as a means of production via improvisation.

Thus, after studying the history of jazz, my conception of jazz has grown. Now, jazz is everything I heard from Mr. O’dell and everything I played in bands over the years, plus all of this new knowledge. Ultimately, I hope to study jazz again, not so much historically as musically. This way, I might have a different perspective than I had when I started playing trombone, way back when I was in the 5^th grade.

Monk: Shades of Grey

                As jazz drifted towards dissonance, atonality and the underground, the music put new demands on listeners. This new form, Bebop, was no longer concerned with the easy-listening melodies of the Swing Era or Duke Ellington. The new consumers of jazz were the Beatniks, rebelling against the tested norms of society; the easy listeners were gone.[1] The new school of jazz composers and musicians constituted an underground that seemed mysterious, at least at first, to popular society. But soon the beboppers – “Bird,” Dizzy, and Monk, were the popular subjects in jazz. Unfortunately, Bird and other beboppers were relatively coarse characters – junkies, narcs, and wife-beaters. This caused the general public to presuppose that Thelonious Monk, the father of modern jazz piano, was another reckless, drug-abusing, social transgressor. Sadly, this is far from the real story behind Thelonious Monk. Robin Kelley and Clint Eastwood, in their respective biographies on Thelonious Monk show an entirely different picture. Eastwood’s film, “Thelonious Monk: Straight No Chaser,” adds concrete recordings and videos that, in many ways, support Robin Kelley’s conclusions that Monk was a family man, well-versed in the composition and musical theory.  However, the two accounts of Monk are different in that Kelley’s book emphasizes Monk’s historical impact on the music, whereas Eastwood’s film is more concerned with the day to day genius, antics, and social character of Thelonious Monk.

                Robin Kelley’s main point is that Monk had a major impact on the composition and harmonics of modern jazz.[i] Although Kelley explores Monk’s childhood in San Juan Hill, it is to the ultimate point of establishing Monk’s background in stride piano. Listeners could “hear the great stride piano style from James P. Johnson and the blues and his great left hand.”[ii] This shows that Monk was not entirely new, but rather he was referencing stride while combining it with new harmonic structures. Kelley’s ultimate point is that Monk “increased the harmonic freedom” in music.[iii] Eastwood also explores Monk’s musical impact, but instead of explicitly saying what that impact is, he shows Monk performing in the international context. To me, this is a much more persuasive argument for Monk’s musical contributions. It shows that he was known world over, and that the world was hearing and accepting Monk’s music, dissonance and harmonic variation included.

                Kelley writes that “it took a village to raise Monk: a village populated by formal music teachers and local musicians.”[iv] This dispels the myth that Monk could not read music and did not know musical theory. However, it also shows that he was not just a musical genius. Rather, Monk was the product of a society, and his music reflects that. Monk’s song, highlighted in Eastwood’s film, A Crupsecule with Nellie, reflects this social upbringing.[v] The song is about his relationship with his wife, but in general it shows how Monk reflected his social relationships in his music. The slow building complexity in the first half of the song suggests the complexity of people, and maybe even that Monk himself cannot be summed up in one word – be it eccentric or genius. When Monk is in his neighborhood in Eastwood’s film, it also seems to reflect Kelley’s statement. That is, as Monk walks through the streets he seems to be connected to the neighborhood, rather than simply observing it.

                The two biographies portray Monk’s mental illness differently, but both have the same point. Eastwood seems to hint that Monk’s illness was always a factor, rather than a manifestation in his later life. Regardless, both biographies make the assertion that Monk was not a musical genius because of his mental illness, but rather because he was a classically trained, technically adept pianist.

                Nothing Monk did was ever cut and dry; everything was a shade of gray. He danced in circles; he spun around; he wore funny hats; his music could not be summed up in a single key. Even his answers to reporters were round-about. But this tells us something about the real Monk. It shows that he could not be classified definitively. Even Monk’s upbringing was complex. Regardless, both biographers, Kelley and Eastwood, show that Monk could not be grouped with the other beboppers. Instead, he was a multifaceted musical genius, reflecting his social location and his relationships within his music. The only difference is, Eastwood showed this by following the everyday life of Monk, while Kelley gave a more historical account.

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[1] Although there were many different listeners, the Beat movement picked up on Bebop before the majority of jazz listeners.

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[i] Youtube: Robin Kelley: Thelonious Monk. April 12, 2009. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1X4jo18Ibo

[ii] Robin Kelley. Thelonious Monk: the life and times of an American original. 125.

[iii] Youtube: Robin Kelley: Thelonious Monk. April 12, 2009. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1X4jo18Ibo

[iv] Robin Kelley. Thelonious Monk: the life and times of an American original. 15.

[v] Youtube: A Crepuscule with Nellie.January 20, 2008. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIVoOwOMq2c

Hip-Hop Jazz is Dead

If Nas could have witnessed the “Swing Era,” he might have said ‘jazz is dead.’[1] After all, hip-hop and jazz are not so different. The factors that derailed hip-hop are similar to what befell jazz during the 1930’s; both were afflicted by producers, contracts, money, and a nearly instantaneous transition from the cultural outskirts to center-stage pop-America. As jazz found its way into the “Cotton Club” and other segregated venues, it also found itself coalescing into a mainstream – one defined more by formulas for success than artistic expression. Swing was now little more than an easy dance meter. It had moved away from the people that had built it from blues and stride, and towards popular society. Nonetheless, the “Swing Era” might be the most essential digression that jazz underwent, for several reasons.  First, commercialism allowed for artists like Billie Holiday to make the occasional foray into civil activism with songs like “Strange Fruit.”[i] Second, it highlighted the division between white industry and musicians.  Last, it furthered the general tension between white and black. Thus, jazz’s hyper-commercialization in the 1930’s fostered an explicit racial dialogue that was not extant in previous iterations of jazz.

                The Swing formula encouraged artists to produce whatever arrangement would satisfy popular society. However, this was a double-edged sword to a segregated, pre-civil equality, Jim Crow society like 1930’s America. Jazz, up until this point, had been built upon blues and the relative oppression that accompanied such an art form. In the 1930’s these elements had not been entirely eclipsed by the commercial movement. Thus, mainstream artists, like Duke Ellington, now had a commercial platform on which they could broadcast racially-influenced songs like “Black Beauty.” Thus, popular culture began to experience race and commercial jazz as complements, if only in small doses.

Although the labels and producers allowed for jazz artists to become commercially successful, many artists resented the band-agent relationship. As bands “surrendered much of [their power] to the impersonal institutions and corporations that increasingly controlled the business,” they became less involved in the direction of the music.[ii] With the totality of the labels, producers, and corporate analogs that controlled the swing business being white, an obvious dichotomy arises; the black musicians are subject to the white record company rules. Although not all of the bands were black, John Hammond, a premiere white jazz critic/agent, believed that “Negroes [were] superior” jazz musicians, thus furthering the notion that black bands were at the helm of the swing movement, and similarly, the premiere subjects of white-corporate industry.[iii]  Thus, the commercialization of jazz emphasizes race roles, specifically between producers and musicians.

Surely, Duke Ellington would have loved to perform on the same stage with any of the accomplished white musicians of the 1930’s. However, this idea was a taboo fantasy of an integrated society, much unlike 1930’s America. Nevertheless, most musicians still understood each other as equals. In this context, swing was the point “at which racial and class boundaries of brutally segregated 1930’s America were most permeable.”[iv] However, the clubs still kept the audiences segregated, if not entirely exclusive to blacks. In addition, the moguls of the swing industry were engrossed in the business of deciphering which musician was better, the white man or Negro.[v]  Furthermore, mass-media seemed to be more receptive to a white-washed imitation of black swing. Thus, race became an ever-prevalent topic, tossed around between audiences, bands, and moguls alike.

Even though hip-hop and jazz were both victims of the same hyper-commercialism and corporate industry, the respective end result was nuanced from one to the next. That is, jazz came out of the “Swing Era” with a newly found racial discussion, whereas hip-hop simply approached the asymptotic limit of mass production and commercialism. However, both jazz and hip-hop succeeded in sprouting some kind of counter-culture that sought to restore an art form, not a hierarchy of corporate mass-media business. In hip-hop, this came from the progressives – The Roots, K-OS, Nas and the like. In jazz, this came from the pioneering sidemen of bebop – Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, and Dizzie Gillespie. Ultimately, the promoters, agents, and executives that spurred the “Swing Era,” catalyzed a racial discussion of jazz, inspecting which color of musician had the best tone, and what kind of social message was acceptable under a white, corporate industry.

               

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[1] A reference to Nas’s “Hip-Hop is Dead” – a record inspecting the commercialization of hip-hop by record companies and industry executives.

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[i] 1939."YouTube - Billie Holiday - Strange Fruit." YouTube - Broadcast Yourself. 4 Apr. 2006. Web. 08 Nov. 2010. <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4ZyuULy9zs>.

[ii] Stowe, David. Swing Changes: Between Conjure and Kapital. 101

[iii] Stowe, David. Swing Changes: Between Conjure and Kapital. 78.

[iv] Stowe, David. Swing Changes: Between Conjure and Kapital. 73.

[v] Stowe, David. Swing Changes: Between Conjure and Kapital. 78-79.

Prohibition, Chicago Style

                In 1920, the United States passed the 18^th amendment in a sobering effort to curtail Americans’ use of alcohol. This meant bars could not serve alcohol; it meant the deserving, middle-American laborer couldn’t distill his own Gin in his bath-tub; it meant no one doin’ nothin’ involving a drink – legally, at least. However, it also meant the rise of illicit, mob-sponsored, underground clubs – clubs that needed to serve a beat with their booze. Thus, in the 1920’s, Chicago emerged as an economic center for both the mob, and jazz. Yet, there was still another kind of prohibition; the kind that kept black musicians and white musicians from playing together; the kind that forced after-closing jam sessions on the Chicago south side.  However, the way Chicago dealt with racial segregation produced a sound that, in my opinion, is less a product of white society and thus, a truer reflection of jazz. Ultimately, Chicago left a bigger footprint than New York did on jazz in the 1920’s because it forced society to come to jazz, rather than assimilating jazz into society. Thus, Chicago is the “quintessential sound of jazz” during the Prohibition era because of its economic, social, and cultural conditions.[i]

                Chicago had a unique set of economic attributes that contributed to its distinct “Hot Jazz” sound. Just like most professional African Americans, “musicians moved north … for a better life, for greater opportunities to work, to support a family, [for] a modicum of personal freedom,” and for a generally better socioeconomic position.[ii] In Chicago, the booming steel industry and stockyards attracted thousands of African Americans from the South. This meant Chicago had a huge audience that was already acclimated to jazz as an art form. Thus, Chicago quickly became the Mecca for Jazz. At the same time, stereotypical 20’s big-band jazz had not yet become prevalent in New York. Once again, this shows that Chicago was the forerunning force in 20’s jazz. The best response New York had to Chicago’s jazz-scene was the Fletcher Henderson Band, where “the arrangements were simple, sticking close to the model set by King Oliver.”[iii] Thus, even New York’s most notable ensemble of the early 20’s was working off a Chicagoan template.         

                Chicago also had a rich cultural and social setting that helped develop the premiere sound of the 1920’s. The “Black Belt,” on the South Side, is somewhat analogous to Harlem. However, most of the clubs on the South Side were still controlled by the mob, causing friction between club owners and musicians. Thus, the blues were still an influence in the “Hot Jazz” sound – specifically in the dissonance of the charts.[iv] Chicagoans also substituted the string bass for the tuba.[v] The geographical disjunction of Chicago saw the emergence of an unexpected and unique cultural element. That is, whites ventured to the South Side to see what jazz was really all about. This was in direct contrast to the assimilation of jazz in New York, where jazz transmuted into white society’s musical scheme, drifting away from its origins.

Chicago’s social unrest was another contributor to “Hot Jazz.” I believe the 1919 Chicago Race Riot was a major source of tension in Chicago’s geographical subdivision. Renting practices were consistently driven by race, further intensifying the “black” South Side. Since race was such an issue, Chicago jazz did not drift into the mainstream – rather, the mainstream drifted into Chicago jazz.  The Austin High Gang, a group of white high-school aged musicians, is the premiere example of white suburbia colliding with Chicago jazz. The Austin High Gang came to know jazz on the South Side’s terms, and that is why they became great practitioners of the “Hot Jazz” sound during the McKenzie-Condon recording sessions.[vi]

                The 18^th amendment would be repealed in 1933, but the racial prohibitions these musicians faced would not end until decades later.  Although New York also faced these same social constraints, it reacted differently, causing a white, society-style jazz. However, Chicago forced an encounter that was more original, never losing sight of jazz’s roots. Despite this concern for originality, Chicago still developed a “Hot” style of its own that was imperative to all subsequent developments in jazz and pop music.

               

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[i] Gioia, Ted. The History of Jazz; 74.

[ii] Gioia, Ted. The History of Jazz; 45.

[iii] Gioia, Ted. The History of Jazz; 110.

[iv] 1922, By. "YouTube - King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band - Dippermouth Blues (Sugarfoot Stomp) 1923."  <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-HJI464CVs>

[v] Gioia, Ted. The History of Jazz; 75.

[vi] Lyttleton, Humphrey. The Best of Jazz: The Chicagoans. 153,154.

Origins of Jazz

       For some, the American art form is defined by consumerism pop art; by Campbell's Soup and Andy Warhol. But this is not the original American aesthetic. In fact, the American art form, Jazz, originated over one hundred years prior to the pop art movement, in New Orleans. Born out of the oppression of African-Americans, Jazz developed in a social context. Jazz was displaced—from both the synchronous orchestration of European music and White America. This gave jazz a certain cultural attachment, referenced by the existence of New Orleans' "Congo Square," where slaves would gather to perform cultural dances accompanied by African-style strings and percussion. The Congo Square evidences an "actual transfer of African ritual to the native soil of [America]." In this tiny corner of New Orleans, jazz was clearly subjugated, but nevertheless, allowed to flourish. In addition, New Orleans experienced a booming economy due to the Mississippi shipping industry. Soon people were coming to New Orleans not just for the sights, but for the debauchery. "Storyville, a red light district in New Orleans," offered a safe-haven for sin, and a stage for Jazz. Most importantly, New Orleans was more socially tolerant of "Creoles of Color," which resulted from the numerous master-slave relationships. This was imperative to the evolution of Jazz in New Orleans because Black Creoles, like Buddy Bolden and Jellyroll Morton, spliced classical forms, like quadrilles, into blues charts and rhythms to form the roots of ragtime. Other cities only offered bits and pieces of what New Orleans had to offer. Going into the twentieth century, New Orleans gave African-Americans a distinct outlet to express their social condition, and an affluent audience that would fund the evolution of an American art form.
       By the 1920's, New Orleans was an antiquated nineteenth century city, and all but the physical center of Jazz. However, New Orleans continued to produce all of the big names. New Orleans rapidly transplanted jazz from Black culture to a public cultural icon. Unfortunately, much of New Orleans' musical history went unrecorded, obscuring the true "New Orleans sound." However, there is no question that in the early twentieth century, New Orleans continued to evolve jazz. Joe "King" Oliver, a New Orleans cornetist, formed the King Oliver Creole Band in an effort to find the perfect ensemble sound. But Louis Armstrong, another cornetist in the band rivaled the collective aesthetic that Oliver so longed for. In this way, New Orleans catalyzed the stereotypical duality between the soloist and the ensemble, characteristic of later Jazz styles.Once again, because phonographic recording was in it's infancy, and because New Orleans had dried up as an economic center, the Creole Band had to travel to survive. Thus, New Orleans' own dilapidation and disrepair contributed to the rapid movement of Jazz to the northern cities. Ultimately, it was the New Orleans sound that spread to other cultural centers, giving Jazz a direction about which it could further evolve.