Blog Post #5: The Real Music

The Real Music

To be honest, I knew quite a bit about jazz before this class.  I’ve taken jazz piano lessons since I was ten, played in several big bands and combos, as well as enjoyed reading about the father figures of jazz while I was learning their music out of Real Book.  That being said, I entered the class with the assumption that jazz is “easier” than Western Art music.  This assumption was created and solidified by the opinions of my classical piano instructor at UCSB.  I’ve always loved listening to and playing jazz and never viewed jazz as a lesser art than classical music until studying with my current teacher.  I am happy to say that this class has rebirthed my love, appreciation and respect for jazz and those who create.

Reading the Miles Davis autobiography influenced the return of my jazz appreciation.  After reading the chapter about Julliard, I had a new idea about what being a “good” musician is.  It’s not about training, but about personal commitment, discipline and community.  Davis’s story about being told by a professor at Julliard that black people played the blues because they were poor and had a hard life opened my eyes to how skewed the classical musical world is.  Even today, I see similar ignorant and discriminatory fallacies coming from some of my music professors.  The ridiculous focus placed on playing things “right” and “elegantly” in Western Art Music seems to hinder the creative process of music creation that is jazz.  Just as Miles found he learned more from Bird and Dizzy than in class at Julliard, I feel that music is truly learned and internalized by practicing and playing with other musicians in a both competitive and nurturing environment. 

From New Orleans to New York, jazz emerged from people coming together to express themselves.  I believe that the creation of community within jazz acts as a catalyst for creation, creativity and knowledge.  This idea occurred repeatedly in the course, but occurs most obviously in the “open university” at Lincoln Gardens and the coffee house in Leimert Park.  Having a place where musicians can meet, talk and play with one another is more of a university than a real one.  This notion that a group of individuals can collaborate and create something entirely new is one of beauties of jazz.  And I feel it is a key factor that I will take away from the course.  Collaboration and personal discipline are equal to if not better than a Julliard education.  After all, it is the individual and the community around him who create the dialogue that is jazz.  A one-sided lecture and a textbook will never equal the knowledge gained by experience. 

Blog Post #4 A Cultural Symbiosis

A Cultural Symbiosis

Relationships can often define one’s life, not merely titles, such as “mother” or “friend”, but any interaction with the world outside of one’s mind.  The best of these relationships are symbiotic, an equal give and take between oneself and something else.  Yet perfect equality is elusive.  Relationships will change over time, as will their balance waiver between parties.  It is this fluctuation of give and take that defines a relationship.   Thelonious Monk’s relationship with San Juan Hill is best described as an unequal symbiosis, but a symbiosis nonetheless.

When the Monk’s arrived, San Juan Hill was a diverse community marked by violence.  “About a year and a half after they arrived, San Juan Hill earned the…distinction of being ‘one of the busiest crime areas in New York City’” (Kelley, 19).  Much of this violence was caused by racial tension.  “We had to fight to make it so we could walk down the streets”, recalls Thelonious on the matter, saying each new block was like walking into “another country” (Kelley, 19).  Amid the violence, however, was a unique musical culture.  “Every household had an instrument”, remembers Mary Ovington (Kelley, 20). Furthermore, there was a strong sense of community in San Juan Hill.  “It was like a little village.  Everybody knew everybody” (Kelley, 20).  This amalgamation of issues and blessings created an incredibly influential environment, the effects of which were felt by a young Monk, just as his environment would soon feel his influence. 

Monk’s music illustrates the diversity from which he came.  Harmonically, his music is daring, oscillating unpredictably between consonance and dissonance.  This austere texture, similar to the classical music being composed at the time, is a musical equivalent of the attitude Monk developed from living through the violence and racial prejudice present in San Juan Hill.  However, explicit Caribbean rhythms are also present in compositions such as “Bye-ya” and “Bemsha Swing”, showing the positive influence of the many cultures surrounding him.  

On a different level, San Juan Hill shaped Monk in creating a community that could hear his music.  People used to have rent parties, hiring Monk to play at them.  In these, Monk found a sanctuary to hone in on his skills, as well as a comforting community to be a part of.  It is this sense of community that causes one to say, “Jazz in New York, man!”  The interactions between Monk, representing the artist, and his community create a dialogue.  It is this dialogue that births creation and change, both in art and community.

What occurred in Leimert Park is further evidence for this claim.  As in San Juan Hill, violence plagued Leimert Park at a time.  Through the creation of music and art, however, the community was able to clean up the streets and provide places for the community to gather, share and grow.  Fifth Street Coffee provided all of these things for the community.  The community was able to speak their mind at the coffee shop, creating a constant force to shape the community that had been created.

It is this symbiosis, the give and take between an artist and all elements of his community that allows art and community to flourish as one inseparable entity.  Communities create art; art creates community.

Blog Post #3: Swing Speaks for Itself

Swing Speaks for Itself

It’s easy to avoid confrontation.  Just lay low and keep your opinions to yourself.  But what if the confrontation you’re avoiding is shoved right in your face and begging for a response?  In the 1930s, jazz migrated from the dingy low-lit clubs of Harlem to America’s main stage as Swing claimed king of American popular music.  This move into the spotlight placed the issue of racial prejudice in the face of the American public, a place where it would remain for decades.

This shift into the mainstream was caused by several factors, one being the rise of radio in America.   “…By the close of the [1930s], annual [radio equipment] sales had skyrocketed to over $850 million” (Gioia, 128).  Radio created a means by which music could be mass marketed to American public.  Therefore, if musicians could get their music played on radio waves, they would be able to not only make a living, but also create a fan base that would support them on tour. The thing about radio, however, is it’s audio entertainment; no one could see what the musicians playing the music looked like.  Consequently, Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington could enjoy the same radio fame as Benny Goodman (Gioia, 128).  When the bands toured however, there were no longer miles of empty American air shielding the performers from their audience.  “[White bands] typically encountered easier working conditions, stayed at better accommodations when on the road, received higher pay, and had more secure careers” than their black counterparts (Gioia, 129).  When black bands toured, however, it was open season for racial prejudice.  Upon seeing Louis Armstrong perform in Austin, Texas, a crowd member commented, “after all, [Armstrong’s] nothing but a goddamn nigger” to Charlie Black (Ward, 1-2).  In a sense, swing created a literal stage to showcase the issue of racial prejudice.  Yet there was much occurring off-stage as well.

It is in this decade that the jazz critic is born, creating an opportunity for a new dialogue with jazz in magazine columns for the world to see.  Of the critics, John Hammond was the most instigative.  In 1935, Hammond argued Duke Ellington’s music had “become vapid and without the slightest semblance of guts” (Swing Changes, 51).  The irony of the critic is that Hammond was not embedded in the same reality as Ellington.  He was a well-to-do white male from a Vanderbilt family who enjoyed jazz (Lecture, 2/12).  Furthermore, Ellington’s music in the 1930s “was explicitly and self-consciously concerned with African-American cultural expression” (Swing Changes, 51).  This quote reveals another contradiction; the public may not receive art in the same way as the artist had envisioned.  It is in this fault, however, that the beauty of criticism reveals itself.  Through criticism, an open-ended dialogue is created between not only the musician and the critic, but everyone who reads the critic.  Criticism is a catalyst for awareness.  Criticism was able to place the issue of racial prejudice on a page for America to see, share and act upon.

The action, however, is contingent upon the audience, the consumer, the American citizen.  The Swing Era signifies the first time jazz was popular enough to begin to change the American public.  Just as Americans shaped jazz into what it had become, jazz was beginning to shape American’s into what America would become.

Blog Post #2: The Personality of Jazz

The Personality of Jazz

When one hears the word “Harlem”, “Renaissance” often follows.  It was the time of the new Negro, the time when blacks in New York’s Harlem were advancing art and creating community.  Poetry, fiction, visual arts and music flourished in the hands of a new people, their minds burgeoning more than their population.  Yet Harlem had another side, hidden behind the hype and hysteria.  “This second Harlem was one of harsh economics, low salaries and looming rent payments” (Gioia, 90).  This other Harlem, however, had jazz. 

Along with the “looming rent payments” came common ground.  The people living in Harlem shared the need to pay the rent.  It is from this need that rent parties were born.  And what could be better than making money while you party?  “They would crowd a hundred or more people into a seven room railroad flat, and the walls would bulge”, remembers Willie “The Lion” Smith, a fine stride pianist and a guest of honor at these parties (Gioia, 90).  It is these rent parties that epitomize New York jazz, a music created by a dialogue between the performer and the audience that became so fluid the line dividing musician and listener disappeared, birthing a single entity of modernist creation. 

This disappearance of division provides a key distinction between the jazz surfacing in New York and the jazz previously developed in Chicago.  There were no rent parties in Chicago.  To see jazz performed, one had to attend a venue.  These clubs, such as the Grand Terrace, were often run by gangsters.  “The mob”, recalls trumpeter and saxophonist George Dixon, “through intimidation and organization, had things so well-regulated we couldn’t even change jobs” (Travis, 42).  This corruption created a different environment in Chicago.  Jazz was not a means of “getting down”, but rather a resource to be controlled, commoditized and exploited.  The sense of community and comradery is absent when compared to New York.

The community in Harlem created a catalyst that propelled jazz to larger audiences and new territories.  The instrument that allowed this to happen was the piano and the style was “stride”.  This style of playing came after rag, creating a bridge to the “swing” that was to come.  James P. Johnson was the arch-virtuoso “tickler” of Harlem.  Lippy remembers taking Johnson to houses at three or four in the morning where it was “[him], or maybe Fats [Waller] who sat down to warm up the piano [until] James took over.  Then you got the real invention—magic, sheer magic” (Johnson Article).  Johnson created a sound and style of his own, drawing from “ring-shouts”, European Art Music traditions and rag (Lecture, 1/29).  It was virtuosic, pleasing to hear and largely focused on improvisation.  These three elements are key in its development because they propelled a long-loved American tradition into the forefront of jazz: competition.  And “pressure creates diamonds” (Tyner).  With this new music, the musician had to be more than merely a performer; he had to be a personality.

Willie “The Lion” Smith was the epitome of personality and a fine product of competition.  “A gladiator at heart”, Ellington called him (Gioia, 93).  Smith built his reputation in “backrooms and private gatherings…asserting his supremacy” (Gioia, 93).  Smith and many others competed for time on the keys at Harlem rent parties (Gioia, 94).  This competition allowed “stride” to evolve and, more importantly, spread.  It moved from rent parties to theater shows and finally to Paris.  The New York-born concept of “the entertainer” projected jazz through a much wider lens.  Jazz became lass of a music and more of a culture: a culture of conflict, competition and community, a culture as diverse as the world that birthed it, yet homogeneous enough to remain distinct.  Jazz had become a culture prepared to appeal to the masses. 

Blog Assignment #1: A New Musical Identity

A New Musical Identity

It is difficult to pinpoint a definitive reason as to why jazz emerged in New Orleans instead of another city.  It is a combination of reasons rather, that New Orleans became a cosmopolitan collection of cultures, peoples and music.

Until it was bought by the United States with the Louisiana Purchase, New Orleans had been under both French and Spanish control (Gioia 6).  During these times, slave trade was prominent across the Atlantic and in the Gulf of Mexico.  Many African natives were brought and sold in the New World, including New Orleans.  What became important for the New Orleans slaves was the Latin-Catholic culture that guided the city, still with it's faults, but much more tolerant of social hybrids than the English-Protestant culture prevalent in much of the New World.  Under Spanish code, slaves could be set free, own property and even buy their freedom if need be (Gioia 6).  This tolerance for slaves was uncommon elsewhere and allowed for a substantial African and Creole culture to develop in New Orleans.  This noticeably freer atmosphere shaped much of the attitudes and ideals of New Orleans culture, and later, jazz.  The Spanish culture added what Jelly Roll Morton called “tinges of Spanish” to jazz (Gioia 6).  These Latin tastes are important to the sound of jazz, especially the woodwinds, mainly the saxophones, that were introduced by Mexican classical musicians.

French and Spanish cultures had a long influence on what New Orleans would become, yet after the Louisiana Purchase, many more cultures arrived that would influence the city.  Immigrants from Germany, England, Italy, Scotland and Ireland arrived, bringing their cultures with them (Gioia 7).  The city's black population was composed of Africans, native-born Americans, and even refugees from turmoil in the Caribbean.  The African population brought with it traditional African music and dance, specifically the concept of call and response and performance in both music and social interactions (Gioia 9).  As slaves, these ideals were altered and Americanized (at times), creating new musical styles such as work song, blues and spirituals.  These styles, especially the blues, were popularized and shared.  It is this sharing, the blending of cultures, that made New Orleans into a melting pot of music.

Through sharing and blending, the jazz created in New Orleans developed a distinct sound.  The sound came from blending many musical styles.  “Ragtime music” says Gioia, “rivals the blues in importance—and perhaps surpasses it in influence—as a predecessor to early jazz” (Gioia 20).  Ragtime was both a compositional style and a way off playing music, especially on piano.  It was often contrasted, for example, by Buddy Bolden’s “ragged and raucous music”, which appealed to the lively, younger generation (Gioia 34).  Another music that had a large influence on New Orleans was the march.  It was that march that caused many musicians to favor brass and woodwind instruments in New Orleans.  Jazz became a mobile music that could accompany parades or funeral processions.  Even within New Orleans, there were many different musical styles at work.  It is this competition that created the distinct sound of New Orleans jazz.

It is not out of one culture or event that jazz emerged, but rather out of many cultures.  It is this combination of cultures, the idea that combining several existing things can create something new that is why jazz came to be in New Orleans.


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