When I started playing trombone in the 5th 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 9th 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 5th grade.
