Showing posts with label Musical Truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musical Truth. Show all posts

Friday, January 10, 2020

Some Thoughts on Our Current Jazz Culture

It happened again this morning: some article in a jazz magazine or another arbiter of fashion said "So-and-So is stretching the boundaries of jazz." 
Under such circumstances, all I can think is "oh...what are they diluting it with now?"
It's like constantly watering down a man's bourbon or mixing rye with fruit drinks and thinking that in doing so we're making an advancement in the art of distilling spirits.
As a culture, we're thinking incorrectly if we view jazz as a nation state that needs to conquer more territory, constantly expanding like an imperialist power (we could call that "neocon jazz"), or that jazz is a technology that needs to keep changing, adapting, and succumbing to marketing schemes of planned obsolescence (call that "software jazz").

"Expanding the boundaries of jazz" is as nonsensical as expanding the boundaries of bread. Wine coolers didn't expand the boundaries of wine. There never were any 'boundaries' to sane people. It's the wrong way to think about it in the first place.
Another way of putting it: to praise a jazz musician for expanding the boundaries of jazz is like praising a hitter for expanding the strike zone. We can look at that hitter and say, well, you might get lucky on some home runs, but it's not a good idea. Basically it means you don't know what you're doing.

Without getting too specific, here are some things I'd like to point out:

1. Wind ensemble music played over a hip hop groove or swing, with space given for stiff soloing over a one or two chord vamp, does not constitute "expansion of the boundaries" of jazz. It's dilution. And too many groups like this are being praised.

2. Grooveless music without blues, but vaguely improvised, does not represent an "expansion of boundaries" but rather a contraction of tradition, and a lack of understanding of what the music actually is. It's non-contextual improvising, that's all.

3. Recycling pop ideas into jazz is not an 'expansion'...it's just recycling stuff from someone else's neighborhood.

By contrast:

What if we were to have a culture (including nightclubs, concert halls, etc) that made a point of understanding and promoting the real thing, without forcing a synthetic ideology of 'expansion' upon it? That "real thing", by the way, is huge, with a tremendous amount of diversity, stretching from New Orleans through bop through modern jazz through the latest blues/groove/improvisatory music released...but I'm pretty sure there is so much ignorance among the critics, club owners, etc, that we're in danger of losing the very roots of our music.

As a point of fact, there are now very few musicians who can truly play New Orleans style jazz at a high level. And by that I mean at a consistently professional level like the musicians of old. Yet this very music, so devalued, it arguably the most joyous music the world has ever known. So we're actually losing the capacity to express such explosive joy if we lose the ability to play this music. Think about that for a moment. Wouldn't it behoove our culture to preserve and promote it?

The answer at the commercial level, or even the level of most academia, seems to be "Nah...make way for those who have 'expanded the limits of jazz'...let's wallow in our sophistication....over our cold grooves....no looking back....no remembering...." America's cultural amnesia, our addiction to the historical delete button, rears it's ugly head again. 

Every few years I get tempted to say to myself "you know what, just go play modern jazz gigs and forget all this...work on tenor and play in big bands, get every gig you can,etc" and I try for a while...but I can't actually bring myself to do it. It takes a lot of work to keep up the type of chops I have in the NOLA tradition on clarinet and soprano.

And then there is the joy. I mean the kind of joy that bursts out of you; that you give to other people. I can't do without this type of explosive joy in my playing, and the only musical key I have to unlock it is this very specific and important "roots jazz" that came forth from New Orleans. This music has lifted my spirit and pulled me through many dark days, and I know other folks it's done that for too. I've had people come up to me at gigs and tell me my music made them a better person, and that they wanted me to play at their funeral. It's that deep. How does a musician answer such a profound statement other than by continuing? No one ever said that to me after a classical concert (and I played many). 
Duke Ellington said somewhere that intelligent musicians master what they can. I've tried to stay intelligent.

But sometimes I think the club owners and managers don't believe in this music enough to give it a real run--to really promote it and commit to the culture of earlier jazz. I believe that if there was an honest commitment to it, we would have successful early jazz bands all over the country, of professional caliber, employed, and with a real following. Symphony orchestras have done it, why not us? When given the shot, I've seen young people very enthusiastic about what we do in nightclubs, but we rarely get a prime spot and if so, almost never get multiple shots at creating and sustaining an audience. My band has had a good run for the last five years, and club owners have been good to us, so I don't want to seem ungrateful in the least...but dang. The press coverage for what we do is limited almost exclusively to enthusiastic amateur sites...and the gigs not much better most of the time. I'm always wondering how long I can afford to keep doing it.

Anyhow, my answer thus far in 2020 is simple: I'm gonna keep swinging and thinking of where to proceed. There has to be a way...



Friday, April 7, 2017

Jazz Proverbs


It's better for a musician to have their technique pulled forward by expression, rather than the other way around.

Always be listening, engaging, acting and reacting in music. Never just recite: participate.

Music is the thing that happens between you and the others in the room, not whatever you think you prepared beforehand.

Always allow the moment to be what it truly is. Don't try to force it to be something else.

A good jazz solo shouldn't be bossed around by the one playing it. It needs its own freedom too.





Saturday, February 18, 2017

Musical Proverb of the Day

All jazz is local.

Whether some world famous jazz musician is visiting your city, playing to a packed theater with three balconies of adoring fans, or you're in some tavern with a band squeezed into a corner and competing with the television set over the bar, all jazz happens in real time with real people in the audience. It's the art of interaction; of the musicians giving something to you and you reciprocating in that place, at that time. It's the art of being present and joyous. It's the art the art that breaks down emotional barriers and allows for everything to come out. It's freedom in honesty, but it can't happen in a room by yourself. It can't happen over the internet via live streaming. It's the real breath of a person through a mouthpiece, the real strike of a hand on a drum skin, the real pull on a bass, the real bodies swaying to that beat, the real eruptions of enthusiasm or, equally important, the hush of reflection that settles over a crowd. There is no substitute for reality, and being who and where you really are. Jazz emphasizes that, and affirms the goodness of reality and existence, even in the midst of great troubles. So if you have some famous cat rolling into town tonight, go hear them: they are jazz for you tonight. But if not, don't be afraid to be a part of what jazz is: the real time sharing of something, of influencing the direction and sound of a band by your very presence. 

All jazz is local.   


Friday, January 22, 2016

On Sound

You're never done working on your sound. It's in a state of constant flux, because the weather is always changing, and you're always changing, getting older, stronger, weaker; and you're equipment is always changing, aging, being slowly altered each day you play it. I've heard every single one of my musical heroes during a down cycle or a bad day. It's sobering and reassuring. Everybody has them. Most of the jazz greats end up blasting too much at times; many classical players get into a timid zone when they struggle. Even when everybody digs what you're doing, if you don't like it, and if you know something is wrong, you have to keep listening, keep searching, keep refining. It's a dance with perfection. You can't reach it--you are not perfection-- but you can dance with it. The key is to not become antagonistic towards perfection: to not turn it into a boxing match instead of a dance. Because when it becomes a boxing match against perfection, you lose.