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.