Post 6 - Jim Pepper

Like just about everyone else from class, I feel that there was so much to be covered with the history of jazz piano that just could not fit within six hours. In particular, I found the early recordings of Bill Evans to be interesting in how different they are from what I associate with his playing style. Based on what I’ve heard of his, I would have never thought of him as playing like boogie-woogie like he does at 14. I’ll also admit that usually when listening to his recordings I’m immediately drawn to the bass playing, especially with Bill’s trios that featured Scott LaFaro and Eddie Gomez. I’ve always found that the Bill Evans Trio embodied what I saw as the perfect sound of a jazz trio, which brings up what was briefly covered on the make up of trios. I found it interesting and was not aware of the early jazz trios consisting of piano-clarinet-drums before Nat Cole's trio.
Since Friday, I’ve listened to different recordings of Evans and looked at recordings of his composition “Waltz For Debby,” to notice differences or developments in his playing from its early recording on New Jazz Conceptions, the well-known Village Vanguard recordings, the later Bill Evans Album, and the Bill Evans/Tony Bennett Album. First of all, as a bass player I found this very difficult for many of these recordings, since the bass playing always stands out so well I often get distracted from a lot of what Bill is doing. But with each of these recordings over a span of almost twenty years, each one is recorded so that there is usually something fresh with each different version.
I also found the presentations from Friday interesting and informative. Before the class, I did not know much about Cedar Walton as well as Vijay Iyer or Craig Taborn. I thought Tara’s presentation offered a good synthesis of both musicians’ individual work and background as well as their collaboration. I found Alan’s presentation interesting and it showed how much of Herbie Hancock’s compositions may seem fairly simple melodically which make them catchy to the listener, yet are very complex harmonically.
Over the past six classes, I learned a lot of valuable information both with specific facts on musicians or periods as well as things to consider when looking at jazz from a historical or research standpoint. I’m definitely looking forward to the fall semester and what’s covered in Historiography, especially based on what we covered in this class and what was noted as being covered in that class.

Free Improv

When there is no framework -- no head, chord progression, groove, lyric, or time constraint -- how does one decide what to play?

I believe the improviser must derive his inspiration from somewhere. A groove and chord progression is an easy, obvious inspiration. Minus those things, the inspiration can come from visual surroundings, from other sounds such as the audience coughing or sirens outside, from silence, or from a fragrance in the air. Just because the inspiration is not aural does not make it any less strong.

As I said in our first class, I sometimes ask the audience for a topic, and then I will improvise on that topic. At one point I had some of my husband's paintings on stage with me, and someone called out that I should improvise based on one of the paintings. It was a dusky blue mountain scene with dark pines and a misty peak. I decided to play as if I were in the scene, climbing the mountain. So, the music had to project certain qualities: determination, refusing to stop or give up, gradual rising, the feeling of walking and moving, a variety of terrain, and finally the point of light.

There is a difference between playing based on something, and playing the thing itself. It depends on how you view the object as related to your music. If I am told to "play like the color green," or to "play the color green," would I play differently? I think so. To "play the color green" is to recognize the sameness between the sight and the sound. There is an intangible substance of art that that they both share. But to "play like the color green" assumes an inherent disconnect. It tells the improviser that she should never quite reach the inspiration, but she should try to get as close as she can. Either one of these instructions could yield a magnificent piece of improvisation.

My husband, a visual artist, likes to give students the following task: Paint the color red without using red. It makes them think of how they feel about red, what red means. It makes them think in layers like a diorama. One could do the same exercise with a jazz standard: Play 'A Train' without playing 'A Train'. There are many possible inroads to the intangible art substance of the song: the lyrics, the juxtaposition of whole notes and eighth notes, the "clash" between Cmaj7 and D7b5, the fact that you heard it in Paris while falling in love. Of course it will not be recognizable by ear to the audience, but the point is to perform it as it feels to you, and I believe this will resonate with the audience if you are able to successfully communicate it.

Health and happiness to everyone!

Bruce Wands Comments Class 6 – July 4 – Jazz Pianists

Bruce Wands Comments Class 6 – July 2 – Jazz Pianists

Sorry I’m late. I know our deadline for everything is tomorrow. I did quickly read through the postings and agree that it was an excellent class, as well as course. Since I am new in the program, I hope that the fall course will fill in some of the gaps we didn’t have time for. I really appreciated Gretchen’s thoughts. One of the things this entire class did for me was to provide new insights into improvisation and how each person has their own voice and style. The historical emphasis that Lewis put on research was also greatly appreciated. We do tend to live in the now and often forget to look at the roots of the tree house we are living in. I also liked John and Tara’s presentations. I am very impressed that the contribution level of the students in the program is so dedicated. All in all, the course really expanded my appreciation and knowledge of improvisation, personal style and, with Lewis’s encouragement, having the courage to express our selves in our own unique way. One of things I’d like to explore more is the interaction and contribution that the band members made to this past course and jazz history in general. I am mainly a bass player and am happy being in the background, but I do know how vital a rhythm section is to the band. While we only had time to focus on the main players, music is a group interaction and I’d like to gain some further insight into how that process works and evolves. I’m very much looking forward to the fall and will email everyone my paper tomorrow and will take some time over the summer to re-read the postings and give them some more thought. Enjoy the rest of the summer!

Gretchen's Post--Jazz Piano: The Limitless Possibilities

As an instrument, the piano has always been of considerable interest to me. The capabilities of performing on a piano are endless—melodic innovation, harmonic innovation, percussive or lyrical ways of playing, the opportunity to play polyrhythms, or at least contrasting right and left-hand lines, as well as the overall expressive qualities of the instrument itself (the wide range of pitches available, timbre, option to sustain a pitch while playing other pitches, etc.). In accordance with the vast array of possibilities associated with this instrument comes a field ripe for endless improvisation and artistic innovation.

We heard several examples of pianists in class who took full advantage of the opportunity to go “out” in their improvisatory explorations of the piano. I must admit, while I was aware of Earl Hines’ skill and approach that differed from the quintessential stride pianists James P. Johnson and Fats Waller, I had not heard the extent to which he explored the possibilities of harmony, range, and tempo during his solos. I was particularly intrigued by the version of “East of the Sun” we listened to in class. He is definitely not afraid of taking chances, and the thing that makes it work is that his “chances” sound very intentional. He doesn’t back off the notes like “I’m not sure if that’s right.” Instead, he seems to play his riskier chords with an even louder, more percussive sound, just to say “Here I am!!”

I went back and listened to one of Hines’ earlier more “stride-like” pieces from 1928—“A Monday Date.” While primarily in the stride style, there are still some very “out” things that he incorporates into this piece. Check it out here at redhotjazz.com if you haven’t heard it before (it’s the first piece on the list at the bottom of the page). Notice when he completely alters the tempo throughout the piece, as he did in several of the examples we listened to on Friday.

http://www.redhotjazz.com/hines.html

In addition to the presentation on Hines, I enjoyed listening to the Nat Cole’s piano recordings. Just out of curiosity, I went around and asked a bunch of my friends—musicians included—if any of them knew that Nat King Cole had been a well-known jazz pianist. Not a single one of them did. I would be curious to find out exactly when he started to slip out of people’s focus as a jazz pianist, to the point that the majority of people didn’t even know that he was one. His incredible performance from Jazz at the Philharmonic that we listened to was in 1944, but by the late ‘40s, he had already become a pop-singer icon. Do audiences really forget that quickly, or were they just not aware of him as a pianist to begin with? Though unfortunate, it makes sense in a way. If you are interested in pop music, and don’t care about jazz at all, why would you know/care who the top jazz pianists are? With my thesis research, I have run into similar perceptions of Harry Connick Jr. Some people only know of him as a Hollywood actor, and have no clue that he is a musician. Others, who haven’t ever actually seen him perform, think of him as a front-of-stage pop vocalist, and don’t realize that he is also the pianist in his big band.

Accordingly, Dr. Porter’s suggestion for historical research is invaluable—if you want to truly learn about someone or something at a given time, you can’t only consult what people are saying today, you must consider reception as it was going on then. Furthermore, you must also take into account the type of audience whose reception you are considering. Today, you might say that Connick is at the peak of his performing career—and still people aren’t aware that he plays jazz piano. Therefore, it is not only crucial to consider comments from the time, but also from varying groups from the same time period (popular audiences, jazz audiences, musicians themselves, critics, etc.).

I wish Friday’s class could have gone on forever—I love listening to jazz piano, and the range of different styles and musicians we covered was particularly impressive. I enjoyed everyone’s presentations, and each artist presented was very different from the ones discussed before. I had never heard either Vijay Iyer or Craig Taborn. Just the simple fact that they are still young, play fresh jazz piano (aren’t copying the styles of previous jazz pianists), and have completely different approaches from each other further suggests to me that the possibilities of jazz piano are endless.

Vijay Iyer

Hello all,

I happened to see the Vijay Iyer Trio at Birdland a couple of weeks ago, and I wrote a review (posted below) of the show. I figured that since Tara did a presentation on him, it would be relevant to include my review in this blog. I hope you enjoy it:

Time Flies When You’re Experiencing It

Lee Konitz sat at the bar in a white linen jacket at Birdland on Saturday night. He wasn’t performing, just checking out the scene. It probably wasn’t a coincidence he came by the night the Vijay Iyer Trio took the stage.
Mr. Konitz—who played alto saxophone with Lennie Tristano in the 1950’s—developed his dry, distinctive sound at a time when Charlie Parker mimics were flourishing. He sat serenely sipping his drink, his back to the stage, as pianist Vijay Iyer reverentially—but not self-effacingly—pointed out him out to the audience. Mr. Konitz, 82, and Mr. Iyer, 39, are of different generations, but they both understand their respective traditions and know what to take from and add to them.
Mr. Iyer is a polymath: an elegant man with profound thoughts in his head and on the piano. He has incorporated math, poetry, history and multiculturalism into his music. He studied physics at Yale. He operates with a complicated sense of purpose while keeping his artistic output relatable.
His trio—with drummer Marcus Gilmore and bassist Stephan Crump—plays complicated music, without drawing too much attention to complication. This group represents a new, ecumenical way of doing the piano trio: with touches of funk and Broadway and post-bop and hip-hop in its sound.
And there’s a balance in its sound and style that lets you know this group wants to be understood. You might not know what the time signature is at every moment, but the music still lets you in, makes you feel comfortable.
On Saturday, Mr. Iyer was pounding out chords with both his hands in seven-eight time for one jumpy section of a song. It sounded as regular as four-four—a good thing.
Rhythm is important to Mr. Iyer. “When you hear music,” said Mr. Iyer in an interview, “the rhythm is the underpinning of the way you experience it. In a way, the melody and harmony are secondary to that because rhythm guides you through the experience of time, and that’s such a fundamental quality of human experience.”
At one point, in M.I.A.’s “Galang,” Mr. Gilmore—the grandson of Roy Haynes—laid down a funk beat on the hi-hat, snare and bass. Whenever it appeared this beat might slip into glibness, he unfolded it with a snare-hit or an empty space that melded into Mr. Crump’s cushiony bass lines.
In Leonard Bernstein’s “Somewhere.” Mr. Crump laid down a walking bass line. Mr. Gilmore put down a beat that lassoed the propulsion of Mr. Crump’s bass line and turned it on top of itself. The melody, which Mr. Iyer played, floated clearly and beautifully above the mesh. In the Andrew Hill song “Smokestack,” Mr. Iyer played a pensive solo introduction that sounded, at times, like Thelonious Monk—with hints of stride and dissonant chord voicings and off-the-beat one-note interjections.
And in a way, this trio is playing in a vein that extends from Monk himself. Monk may have been inscrutable, but his music wasn’t. He wrote some of the catchiest and wittiest melodies in jazz. And he worked very hard at them, despite their seeming simplicity. The Vijay Iyer Trio, above all, preserved the original feelings of the songs they covered, while adding their own formal rhythmic calculations.
At the end of “Somewhere,” Mr. Gilmore looked over at Mr. Iyer and they both began to laugh. Mr. Konitz, still at the bar, took a sip from his drink and smiled.

Jim Pepper- Dave Brubeck

I will admit, before Friday’s class I was always rather apathetic when it came to Dave Brubeck, I never had anything against him that made me dislike him but at the same time I was never a big fan. I found his rhythm section boring, and as a bassist that is a big deal to me, but never thought about the fact that they haven’t done much recognizable work outside of Brubeck’s Quartet. I always found the experimenting with time signatures to be interesting, and I have a newfound respect for his piano playing since Friday that I never truly appreciated before.
I did not really think much of Brubeck as an “outsider” before the class, it just never came to mind, but it does make sense for me now. The list of collaborators Brubeck had is much shorter than other contemporaries who are at or near his level of popularity. And for the past fifty years, he’s primarily stuck with the same few songs when he performs live. But this brings up the fact that his fans are primarily non-jazz fans. His audiences know exactly what to expect when they see him perform, since he draws on the same few tunes, but he seems to be content with that. Looking at his playing techniques like using polyrhythm and polytonalities, I think much of that goes unnoticed by many listeners who are not familiar with much jazz outside of Brubeck’s work, and they probably are not familiar with other jazz pianists enough that they can compare him with.
I am still frustrated from Brubeck’s own personal accounts and interviews, where he allows myths to be viewed as fact, increasing his status as celebrity, and he obviously exaggerates his resume, particularly with the examples from the Octet period in trying to appear stylistically before the Miles Davis Nonet in the jazz history narrative. However, it is not like Brubeck is the only performer to have ever done this. But it shows there is much research to be done to distinguish fact from legend, but unfortunately this will probably only be done posthumously because of the tight control over telling Brubeck’s story.
Based on what we heard and saw with the interviews, I would agree that there were definitely missed opportunities for questions that focused on his approach to and study of harmony, something that definitely makes him stand out among other musicians and seems to go overlooked in many ways. If he focused more on this rather than exaggerating his personal biography and individual celebrity, he might have more respect and a wider fan base within the jazz world.

The Brubeck Recipe for Success

At the end of class, Lewis explained to us why Dave Brubeck does not have a stellar reputation in the jazz world. I'm going to offer some theories as to how these things have allowed Dave to build a stellar reputation in the non-jazz world.

he knows himself

He doesn't pretend he is something that he's not. He doesn't try to be popular, look around and see what's popular and try to get into that (for example, a swing band). He's not a politician. He's not afraid to not play bebop, and it's not a struggle for him. He can bring a sense of inner peace to what he does because he is being true to himself -- and because he does not wish he was something else. He is happy to be a non-bebop-playing jazz player.

the Wynton factor

He's a master storyteller. We were shown four channels that he has utilized to communicate with his audience: playing and improvising, composing, speaking, and writing in words. His talent for engaging the listener comes through in every case. There was the video interview where he spoke of racism and his relationship with his father, letting his feelings show. There was also the New York Times article, a brilliant way to speak directly to the listening public. I think there is always an uneasy disconnect between the artist and the public because the artist speaks a different language. It may be the language of music, of dance, of visual arts, or drama, but it has an essential abstract quality that the audience must accept without words of explanation. But when an artist uses the public's own language -- the written or spoken word -- to reach out, and it is done well, the public leaps at the chance to get closer.

(This may also explain the success of local jazz series such as at the Peddie School (Hightstown) and the Institute for Advanced Study (Princeton). These series have typically included an interview with the artist in addition to the concert.)

no fronting

As Lewis pointed out, Dave is an "out" player without having a reputation for it. Another way to say this is that he's unassuming; he does not have the affectations or attitudes common to those who play his kind of music. What is the stereotype of a strikingly abstract artist? Long hair, sunglasses, weird clothes, drugs, alcohol, strange or unusual way of talking, multiple marriages or relationships, publicity stunts, jail time, the list goes on and on. To meet Dave Brubeck on the street, based on the photographs and videos we have seen, I doubt that one would think he was an artist of any sort. His image to me is more like that of a schoolteacher.

As for the self-consciousness of an "out" player: I am reminded of my college East Asian History textbook. The first paragraph in the book decried its own title: "To the people who live there, it is neither east nor west and certainly not far." To Dave, his playing is neither out nor in, it's just home.

you had me at the pickup

Dave's rhythm sections are perfect for him. He surrounds himself with people who build him up and allow him to play the way he wants. Certainly he did not choose his rhythm section for their fame or for political reasons. We have heard his rhythm sections do nothing but keep time and solo when it's their turn. I have not heard any highly unusual solos from them. This disparateness between lead and accompaniment creates a spark that is powerful and compelling. Because the bass and drums' time is so predictable, Dave's eccentric rhythmic attack is exposed.

I think he could have had a "The Bad Plus" situation had he found rhythm players who would play more independently. But, I am sure that he did not want that. His love is to sit in time and experiment.

he's got pop hits

Dave has tapped into the world of pop-stardom with his arsenal of hits that are associated with him. He plays audience favorites and continues to pull them off to this day. A hit song is a powerful thing to possess.

I still wonder if he chooses to play the same concert every time, or if he does it for the sake of the audience. This is one of the drawbacks of pop-stardom: there is much less freedom to explore and discover on stage. So, he has made sacrifices in his performing career.

he has an "unshakably strong and highly individual identity" (direct quote from Lewis)

I agree -- and I believe this is the most important one. You must start with substance before it can grow and touch more and more people. Further, this quality is indestructible. Individuality can adjust to tragedy, can gain wisdom, can reach out, but can never be lost. Whatever is lost was never part of the individuality in the first place. If this were not true, Dave would not have been able to perform "Take Five" with the same feeling and identity for 50 years.

In sum, Dave Brubeck does not carry around "oppositional baggage," forces moving in the opposite direction to his success. I love it that there are people like him to set an example. He is not a perfect person -- would not make it in the field of historical research -- but we learn what we can from him.

Bruce Wands Comments – Class 5 – Dave Brubeck

Bruce Wands Comments – Class 5 – Dave Brubeck

This class greatly expanded my knowledge of Dave Brubeck. I was only marginally familiar with him and had only listened to a few recordings. Lewis’s analysis of his playing style was particularly informative. He does play in a unique manner and I “get” his playing much more now. It is a little surprising to me that he is so famous compared to other players. As Lewis mentioned, much of this is due to Dave’s expertise in self-promotion and the crafting of his public image. I did log onto the www.jazzicons.com site and it looks like some great DVDs are there. Lewis’s wrap up conclusion and the five major points about Dave Brubeck helped to give me a better perspective. I would have liked to have more attention focused on Paul Desmond. I think that Desmond played a major role in Brubeck’s success. While Dave’s style was chordal, intellectual and relatively accessible, Paul’s lyrical and “safe” style complimented Dave and I feel it is more the sum of the parts that brought the success, rather than just Dave. In some ways, they should have shared a double bill, rather than being known collectively as Dave Brubeck. However, I did find one DVD released in 2008 titled Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond: Take Five, which was from 1961.

Dave Brubeck

I have seen Dave Brubeck three times and one time would probably have been enough. It’s not that he doesn’t put on a good show. He has an engaging presence and he really makes you feel, as a member of the audience, that you are taking part in something that he is glad to be doing. (I say ‘glad’ because, personally, I don’t think I could play ‘Take Five’ every performance and maintain my faith in God.) I just feel as though every Dave Brubeck performance is generally the same.
If you didn’t know, he plays ‘Take Five’ every performance—along with most of his other standards: ‘Blue Rondo’, ‘Three to Get Ready’. But as Lewis said, Dave really is a mensch. (His parents must be kvelling in their graves.) He’s a mensch in this respect because, really, he doesn’t have to play ‘Take Five’ every show. People would still come to see him. He is an institution. He does it because, really, it’s what people want to see. And by people, I mean the people who are not jazz geeks—the people who know a little about Brubeck and have no idea that ‘Time Out’ came out the same year as ‘Giant Steps’, ‘Ah-Um’, ‘Kind of Blue’, or ‘The Shape of Jazz to Come’.
Dave might not be playing conventional solos at his shows—but who the hell is going to notice? Nostalgia is a recurring theme in jazz-talk. When people go see Brubeck, I have a feeling he’s regarded as more of an old stand-by than an explorer of sound and harmony. It’s like going to see a Dixieland revival band or something—there’s not much of an emphasis on looking forward. (In Brubeck’s defense, I wouldn’t want to be looking too far forward if I were 90.)
But then again, it’s not like he’s complacent or smug. He probably has more energy than a sixteen-year-old boy when he plays, and his excitement at shows really comes through. He really seems to be a happy guy, unregretful, and it’s nice to see that. (I don’t know if it’s the Catholicism, or the choral music, but whatever.)
And I have a feeling that his happiness is apparent because he’s spent his whole life doing what he thinks is right for himself and his music. I may not be helping the myth of Brubeck, but I honestly think that this is true.
I don’t want to get sentimental (an easy thing to do when talking about Brubeck and listening to him talk.) But looking back, maybe I shouldn’t regret seeing Brubeck so many times—I bet he wouldn’t if he were in my place.

Gretchen's Post--Brubeck's "Coolness"?

Yesterday in class, we determined that one of the issues surrounding Dave Brubeck that bears further scrutiny is whether or not he can truly be categorized as a “cool jazz” artist. The term cool has often been associated with the more subdued, classically-tinged style of the Miles Davis nonet (Gil Evans) and such bandleaders/artists as Stan Getz, Lee Konitz, Chet Baker, etc. How then, does Brubeck’s fiery, wild improvisational style fit into this commonly accepted notion of “cool”? Below, I have researched a range of definitions for cool jazz, hoping to augment our understanding of Brubeck’s place within the style.

“Cool jazz included intricate arrangements, innovative forms, and songs having a thoroughly composed sound (although they included improvised sections). . . . Another variety of cool jazz was that of the pianist Lennie Tristano and his students. Tristano’s music is very different from what Evans and his colleagues were doing: it’s ‘coolness’ was a matter of emotion (Tristano required saxophonists to play with a ‘pure’ tone and to concentrate on melodic development and interaction than overt emotionalism), but his emphasis on sometimes ferociously fast tempos and on pure improvisation rather than arrangement was closer to bebop.” –Wikipedia

The above definition does reflect some of Brubeck’s compositional characteristics—involved arrangements, innovate forms (and meters), with the pieces reflecting unity and thorough composition. As we discussed yesterday, there is also a noticeable similarity between the “cool” styles of Brubeck and Tristano. While both implement the intellectual and highly compositional element to their pieces that embodies the cool style, they also retain some bop elements of breakneck tempos and improvisation.

“West coast jazz is a form of jazz music that developed around Los Angeles and San Francisco at about the same time as hard bop jazz was developing in New York City, in the 1950s and 1960s. [It] was generally seen as a sub-genre of cool jazz. . . . It featured a less frenetic, calmer style than hard bop. The music tended to be more heavily arranged, and more often compositionally based.” –Wikipedia

This additional entry on West coast jazz describes it as a sub-genre of cool, again emphasizing thorough arrangements and compositions. Brubeck is not lacking on the compositional element—it is the “calm” that sometimes seems to be missing from his repertoire. However, I feel that his most famous piece, “Take Five,” does exhibit the cool qualities of calmness, lack of emotion, and a kind of laid-back, subdued feel.

“Tone colors tended toward pastels, vibratos were slow or nonexistent, and drummers played softer and less interactively than in bop, hard bop, and other modern styles that coexisted with cool.”—Encyclopedia Britannica Online

The Britannica entry—succinct if anything—defines what laymen generally thinks of when they think of cool. If we were taking this particular definition as the cut-off for all that constitutes the cool style, Brubeck would probably not make the cut. While he does have some slower, pastel-oriented pieces, his highly improvisatory and frenetic pieces (like some of the examples we viewed/listen to yesterday) would not apply.

Cool jazz: “A term applied to diverse styles of modern jazz variously perceived as subdued, understated, or emotionally cool. . . . Some critics consider that the modern jazz produced on the West Coast during the 1950s constitutes a category of cool jazz. . . . Indeed, although much cool jazz of the 1950s owes a large stylistic debt to groups led by Count Basie and Lester Young in the late 1930s, cool musicians did not ignore the bop approaches that had emerged in the mid-1940s.”—New Grove Dictionary of Jazz Online

The above excerpt went on to suggest that one of the key aspects of the cool style was the resurgence of improvised counterpoint, as demonstrated through the performances of John Lewis and Milt Jackson (MJQ), as well as Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond. Here, the New Grove takes into account that certain groups associated with the cool style, in this case Brubeck, still retained elements of bop in their compositions.

“Cool jazz features arrangements that are generally more complex than those found in bop. . . .Often complex harmonies were played behind the solos in cool jazz—it was much more a style that emphasized the composer and arranger. . . . Very little cool jazz produced through the end of the ‘50s and ‘60s is strictly cool, but it all has recognizable elements that link the different practitioners of the sound together. For example, Dave Brubeck’s work, while retaining many elements of the cool movement, is often very agitated, searching, and experimental. His quartet’s work with ‘odd’ time signatures opened the door for late-‘60s experimenters like Don Ellis and Brubeck’s piano work has sometimes been described as ‘bombastic’ by jazz critics. But the quartet also featured saxophonist Paul Desmond, who played every bit as lyrically as Chet Baker or Lee Konitz and had a gorgeous, thin sound. An intellectual and talented wordsmith, Desmond became, in many ways, the perfect example of a cool jazz artist—cerebral, clever, humorous. . . .Brubeck, too, came across as and intellectual and something of an avant-gardist.”—Jazzitude.com

The above definition was probably the most helpful regarding the Brubeck “cool” myth-busting. Clearly, Brubeck’s music emphasizes the composer and arranger, implementing complex harmonies and innovative use of meters, polytonality, and polyrhythm. The author of the this particular definition admits that Brubeck’s style is not distinctly cool, but instead exhibits certain elements that allow him to be grouped with that style. Furthermore, Paul Desmond is featured as the “true cool” artist of the DB Quartet—perhaps his performance style has contributed to the mass association of Brubeck’s music with the cool movement.

“Cool music is a fusion of European classical influences, swing music, bebop, and musicians who wanted to make their own distinct voice in improvisational music.”
http://www.oswego.edu/academics/colleges_and_departments/departments/music/classes/MUS_317/cool_hardbop.pdf

See the above sight for an extensive listing of the characteristics of the cool jazz style. Without a doubt, Brubeck wanted to make his own voice in improvisational music—to the point that he would risk just about anything in a solo. There is also a definite fusion quality to his music, featuring elements of not only European classicism, but also bop, swing, and basically whatever came to his mind.

Check out this Youtube video, in which Billy Taylor explains the phenomenon and stylistic aspects of cool jazz. One of his primary arguments suggests that the rhythm “floats,” unlike in previous jazz styles.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYTmUOh2Lcc

While I could probably keep researching definitions for ages, it seems that our best understanding of Brubeck’s association with the cool movement is that he exhibits some defining aspects of the style—thorough composition, intellectual arrangements, classical influence—is performing within the right time period (‘50s and ‘60s), and is featuring a soloist highly associated with cool: Paul Desmond. However, his music does not strictly adhere to the definition of cool, implementing bop elements such as fast, fiery tempos and pure improvisation. Since the compositional element seems to be one of the primary defining aspects of cool, Brubeck is often lumped into that category. Perhaps it is best to say overall that Brubeck can easily be linked with the cool movement, but cannot be defined by it.

Jim Pepper- Defining Jazz Singers, and the Jazz vs. Pop debates

Throughout our class, we talked about the question addressed in the reading over “what is a jazz singer.” The reading and our discussion show that the answer can vary across the board, and I feel that because of the vagueness of the term “jazz singer,” we will always be able to find an exception whenever we come up with a concrete and solid definition. I think this is in part because of the undeniable importance of particular singers like Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald, who differ so much in style and technique, yet our definition would need to somehow fit both of them because to do otherwise would be seemingly unspeakable. Possibly going along with this, we may feel that particular singers should not be included, so we try to word our definition in a way to exclude them.
The issue of singers and improvisation, discussed in the reading, had me thinking about our first class, particularly the differences of improvisation within jazz. Early solos in particular were more worked out, as we saw with the audio examples of Johnny Dodds from that class. Like the wide range of options of improvisation, from worked out or precomposed to spontaneous creation, we can see that same range of variety among vocalists. Whether the singer is using ornamentation of the melody or scatting over a chorus, there is some form of improvisation that is there. Yet many singers outside of the jazz world use vocal techniques that adhere closely to the melody in a similar way as some “jazz singers” do, which doesn’t help the question here about distinguishing them. Because we may want to include specific key singers like Ella or Billie within our definition of a jazz singer, we will want to keep our definition as vague as possible because of issues with inclusion and exclusion, which is why I still like Dr. Porter’s definition from class as a singer who works with jazz musicians.
Gretchen’s presentation on Harry Connick Jr. was very interesting and well done. It brings up an issue I have been thinking about with the debate over pop versus jazz that many singers face. When someone like Connick does well on the pop charts or reaches pop music fame, it casts doubt or debate over whether they are to be considered a jazz musician. Yet when jazz instrumentalists do any kind of collaboration with popular artists their musical label does not seem to come into question at all.
Coincidentally, I was able to catch this by chance late last night. In addition to the pop versus jazz debate, it also brings up the idea brought up in class of the “new standards,” of jazz musicians performing popular music of today, since Herbie Hancock performed John Lennon’s “Imagine” on Jimmy Fallon's talk show while promoting his newest album (in addition to playing alongside hip-hop band The Roots throughout the show). Here is a link for it, although it’s the whole episode, if you click the last marker that is where it starts (at 36 minutes in). http://www.latenightwithjimmyfallon.com/video/tuesday-june-22-2010/1235508/

Interview of Interest

For those who are interested, this a really interesting interview with Bruce Lundvall, the president of Blue Note, Joshua Redman, and Ben Ratliff: http://www.jerryjazzmusician.com/mainHTML.cfm?page=/roundtable2.html

Gretchen's Post--Jazz Singers

As I mentioned throughout my presentation yesterday, I am intrigued by the “art vs. entertainment” debate that has permeated the jazz community. This controversy is particularly applicable to our discussion of “jazz” singers yesterday. Just like fusion artists, Paul Whiteman, and Kenny G, vocalists have frequently faced the threat of marginalization within the jazz canon and among its critics, resulting from their perceived commercialism and entertainment-oriented performances. As Dr. Porter mentioned at the beginning of class, even though jazz is primarily accepted as an instrumental music, most of its sales and popular appeal are credited to the vocalists (Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Diana Krall). While unfortunate, it makes sense that the mass public might relate more to music with lyrics they could understand over purely instrumental music. However, in the jazz community, as Paul de Barros articulated, “Success in the marketplace is often related in inverse proportion to respect from peers and critics.” It even bears the question—if such jazz-influenced styles as fusion had not reached such mass popularity, would jazz critics have been so quick to condemn them as commercial and “not jazz?” I am by no means suggesting that all fusion is artistically equivalent to the innovations of Charlie Parker and John Coltrane, but the politics behind its relegation at least merit consideration.

It seems that this inverse relationship between marketplace success and respect from jazz critics suggests that performances geared toward audience entertainment lack in musical intellectualism and innovation. It appears that many jazz critics find art and entertainment to be mutually exclusive camps. As a result, they suggest that artists or musical styles cannot equally represent both. As I described yesterday concerning Harry Connick Jr.---Connick’s rise to stardom following his vocal album for When Harry Met Sally, when he originally had recorded as a pianist, led to endless criticism in which he was “accused of everything from dilettantism to downright disloyalty to his jazz roots.” This critical idea that what is entertainment cannot be art seems to have cast its shadow over the position of the jazz vocalist within the larger jazz community. Many vocalists who have sung with jazz bands—including Connick, Sinatra, Rosemary Clooney, Nat King Cole, Bobby Darin—have also (if not primarily) been considered pop singers. So how does a vocalist bridge the gap from “pop” singer to “jazz” singer?
Here, it is necessary to consider the question of the day—as Tara wrote in her first post, “what is a jazz singer?” Of all of the potential definitions we discussed yesterday (improvises, collaborates with the ensemble, simply is associated with jazz music), the one that seemed the most impressive to me was “uses voice like an instrument.” Obviously, this definition in itself is very vague, and can be interpreted on many different levels. However, there is no denying that in their own ways, both Ella and Billie used their voices like instruments. While Ella explored range and harmony in both her interpretations of the melody and improvisatory scat singing, Billie explored nuance and the projection of deep, heartfelt emotions. Similarly, I must say that I consider Frank Sinatra to be a jazz singer. The depth, both emotionally and in vocal quality, with which he performed such selections as “Hello, Young Lovers” is very powerful and personal. Every nuance in his projection of the lyrics sounded deliberate. While pleasant, some of the other vocalists’ versions of “Hello, Young Lovers” did not reveal such musical intellectualism and deliberate consideration of the lyrics. Even the original by Deborah Kerr—which I loved—revealed somewhat of a superficial accuracy and beauty.

Perhaps “jazz singer” is one of those terms that we won’t ever be able to completely put into words—just like “swing feel” and even “jazz” itself. The question is, how necessary is it for us to establish a definition?

Check out Wikipedia’s list of who is considered a “jazz singer”—pretty much anybody you could ever think of.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category%3AAmerican_jazz_singers

Is it our job as jazz musicians and members of the jazz community to make sure that a clear distinction is made between pop singers who sing with jazz ensembles, and jazz singers? If it is, how will we go about doing this?

Further Thoughts on Jazz Singers

Although I might contradict myself, I just had an idea about jazz singers that might help define them a little more. We were talking about how some jazz singers (and musicians, although we didn’t say it) convey the emotion and feeling of a song in their singing (and playing). But I feel that, more often than not, a jazz singer (and a musician) usually renders the subject matter of a song subservient to whatever the he or she wants to do with the song. This doesn’t necessarily preclude feeling, but it does sort imply that a jazz singer could sing an aria from an opera or a Beatles song or “All the Things You Are” and more often than not, it’s going to be a jazz song regardless of the background of the song itself.

If you asked a rock singer or a folk singer or an opera singer to do this, it probably wouldn’t be the same. I think that’s what sort of makes jazz jazz, and jazz musicians and singers special. Because they can work with material from far-ranging and disparate sources, and still make it what they want, make it naturally their own.

Jazz Is

It seems that I’ve been writing a lot about words and their meanings in most of my posts. I know this is not a semiotics course, but I think that inevitably problems arise when you try to use words to address music. But sometimes, however rarely, you just might do better to accept the given meaning of a word or concept—to respect the collective understanding of an idea.
When we talk about jazz, we are talking about something that is very complicated—problems about history, aesthetics, religion, race, language, tautology, maybe even eschatology, arise. With the case of jazz, it seems we all know, for all practical purposes, what it is. But it’s like Lewis was saying yesterday in class about jazz singers—we can’t necessarily translate an aural understanding to verbal explication.
When we get into the question of what a jazz singer really is, we hit on some even deeper problems. This is because not only are we dealing with a tough issue about the nature of singing; we are dealing still with the issue of what jazz really is.
Sometimes you have to think really hard about answering a question before you can begin to consider whether or not you should have been asking it at all. In this case, about jazz singers, I think that Lewis’s answer to our question in class yesterday is the most accurate—and the wittiest, which is always good: Jazz singers are those who work with jazz musicians.
It reminded me of something I read by Gary Giddins about what jazz is. (I know you guys might not like Gary Giddins, but bear with me—he is a good writer.) He wrote: Jazz is what jazz musicians do. Similar to Lewis’s, eh?
Both of these answers are tautological—they rely on the word they’re defining to define the word. But it’s intentionally so. The definition itself is a seemingly humble attempt—but looking closer, it’s an affront to all those who think these questions actually matter.
They’re answers and non-answers at the same time. They’re silencers. If we wanted to take it a little further, we could quote Nat Hentoff: Jazz is.

Jazz Improvisers | Jedi Knights

After today's class I am enlightened, but not swayed.

I hadn't thought of the fact that Billie Holiday did not improvise. I know there would be general outrage and confusion if it was announced that she could no longer be included in the "jazz singer" category.

I am also beginning to see that singers are not judged by the same standards as instrumentalists. As John pointed out, the singer's goal is usually to lead, to stand out, to "be" the show. They do not have the strong instinct to create collective art as we do. And, the expectations of the audience are different when it comes to singers and instrumentalists. The audience probably will not leave disappointed if they attend a "jazz singer" concert and that singer does not improvise. But of course, an instrumental "jazz concert" without improvisation would be difficult to pull off.

But, I still have a deep regard for improvisation and a sense that improvising artists are unique. To me, it is like an ancient religion practiced by a brave and faithful few. That is one of my goals for my higher education in jazz performance. I would like to be able to call myself a jazz pianist with no twinge of hypocrisy.

Allow me to tell another China story to illustrate this point. When I first went to Beijing as a college student, an English-language magazine asked me to write a story on Liu Yuan, who is widely considered China's top jazz saxophonist. When I was in Beijing there were about 10 working Chinese jazz musicians in the city. The other location for Chinese jazz was Shanghai.

The background for this is that jazz entered China in the 1920's through Shanghai, a port city and trading hub. It gradually faded under Communist rule, and then went underground altogether during the Cultural Revolution of 1966-76. After this, musicians began to dig out their instruments (literally, having buried them to save them from being destroyed). But there was now a dearth of Western influence. Jazz, rock, pop, and blues cassettes slowly began to trickle in, from Western students coming to study.

And that brings us to Liu Yuan. He was trained in the suona, a traditional Chinese wind instrument, because he comes from a long line of suona players. He heard the sound of the saxophone in Europe when his Chinese music troupe went touring. He knew he wanted to learn to play the sax and learn to play jazz. But, there were no jazz teachers in China, no jazz musicians living there, no Internet, very limited TV programming, not even CD's yet, only tapes. He managed to borrow money to purchase a saxophone and then learned the music -- chord changes, forms, stylistic inflections, and improvisation -- from a handful of tapes.

When I interviewed him I asked him about the jazz currently existing in Shanghai. He scoffed, just like Carmen McRae. Shanghai was perhaps more known for jazz than Beijing, due to its history, and specifically due to the "Peace Hotel Jazz Band." This was a group of gentlemen who had played in Shanghai big bands in the 1930s and 40s. They truly represented the history of jazz in China. But, they did not improvise. They also lacked a depth of understanding -- as regards Ben's comment in class, there was no indication that they had studied Charlie Parker or Sonny Rollins.

In one of my previous blogs I mentioned "cultural obstacles." To fully understand the mountainous task that faced Liu Yuan and others trying to learn jazz, we must consider that Chinese society has discouraged individual expression for thousands of years. This sensibility exists in the government, in social customs, and in the family.

But Liu Yuan managed to turn what he had into something real. Today he plays with authentic sound. Having surmounted that level of difficulty, he and his kind deserve to be set apart for simply being jazz improvisers.

I wish I could send you to a video or recording, but I have searched the Internet unsuccessfully for a good quality representation. Please note that there are several YouTube videos labelled "Liu Yuan Quartet 01, 02" etc. but I believe this is a mistake, because the saxophonist is not him. But, here is an interesting article with more detailed backstory:

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/life/2010-03/29/content_9655355.htm

More on Sinatra--and a required video

Here's Sinatra doing "I've Got You Under My Skin" (1965) with Nelson Riddle conducting his chart--sounds like jazz to me!?--also watch Sinatra taking deep breaths--it's very obvious:

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/wm-A10302B00007637384/frank_sinatra_ive_got_you_under_my_skin_official_music_video/

ALSO I will ask Will Friedwald how Sinatra was able to conduct. All sources says Sinatra had no training and did not read music (maybe he was just an amateur conductor--waved the stick when he knew the music by heart?).

I mentioned his support of civil rights, but forgot to mention that he also had Mafia friends!! (In a famous incident, Sinatra successfully encouraged President JFK to start an affair with a woman he know, then invited a Mafia boss to see the same girl! When JFK found out, he cut off relations with the woman and also with Sinatra of course!) Talk about contradictions!

ALSO this Wikipedia page has good info on Sinatra--mentions his civil rights film in 1945, his comeback as an actor in the early 50s, and his Mafia connections:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Sinatra

And here is his info on his conducting:

Frank Sinatra Conducts Tone Poems of Color

• Release Date: 1956

With his comeback secure, Frank Sinatra again took up the baton in advocacy of music between the cracks, this time with a near 60-person orchestra of Hollywood musicians and a set of 12 commissions from eight composer/arrangers. With the poetry of radio writer Norman Sickel as a guide, each composer was assigned different colors to muse upon, with Victor Young, Jeff Alexander, Alec Wilder, andNelson Riddle receiving two each, and Billy May, Gordon Jenkins, Elmer Bernstein, and André Previn one apiece. The performances are as sure-footed and assured as on Sinatra's Alec Wilder sessions, though without the restless, on-edge quality that marked that 1945 conducting debut. ~ Richard S. Ginell, All Music Guide

Lewis

Response to Jazz Singing reading

Here are my answers to the questions posed in the reading.

"What is a jazz singer?"

The first names that come to my mind are Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Johnny Hartman, Frank Sinatra, Harry Connick Jr., Sarah Vaughan, Sue Giles (local), Dianne Reeves, Diane Schuur, Cab Calloway, Louis Armstrong, Chet Baker, Rosemary Clooney, Carmen McRae, Jane Monheit, Diana Krall, and Jamie Cullum. Now, I would not call every one of these a true jazz singer. But, these are the names that come to mind due to their reputation and popularity. Of course there are many more.

"What of a popular singer such as Rosemary Clooney?"

I agree with Carmen McRae. To sing jazz, or to play it, requires improvisation. I think the key phrase in this paragraph was "appeared in jazz settings." If a singer sings a jazz standard backed by a 20-piece band, that is a "jazz setting," but not necessarily an authentic jazz performance.

The excerpt goes on to offer the responses of several jazz singers to the question, "What is a jazz singer?". Then, it asks, "Does this bring us any closer to a definition of a jazz singer?" and it answers itself, "No ... Enquiring of singers does not necessarily lead to enlightenment". I must conclude that the author is not a musician and that this book is not written for musicians to read. It is "Jazz Singing Defined for Dummies," perhaps. The responses from the singers were in fact very clear and incisive. Here is my summary:

A jazz singer...

...takes a tradition in a new direction
...improvises
...changes her performance of the same tune from one concert to the next
...challenges his musicality
...takes risks
...sings with rhythmic elements including swing and syncopation
...sings with soul
...keeps track of the form and the beat independently of the supporting instrumentalists
...uses the voice as an instrument
...uses performances as opportunities to learn, explore, and discover

Then the article asks, "Where does that leave the rest of us" (i.e., those who do not understand the singers' responses)? My answer to this is that jazz cannot be understood with superficial exposure. Anyone who truly wants to understand what the singers are saying must become a bona fide jazz fan, attending concerts regularly, buying recordings, and reading reviews and articles for a number of years.

"What about singers who do not so readily delve into the realms of improvisation, preferring to concentrate more on tone, nuance, inflection and subtle interpretation? Are they to be excluded? Are we unconvinced that what they do should be designated jazz singing?"

Yes, we are. The ability and inclination to improvise reveals a deep understanding of music, an independence and trustworthiness that is unparalleled. I am speaking from the point of view of the accompanist. Playing for a singer who can count and hear chord changes, and who does not depend on me to cue her in, is an entirely different experience than playing for one who relies on cues. The singer who needs cues is disconnected from the band. The singer who stays with us is one of us. He is truly "the leader of the band." We can have fun together.

But, let me not make a universal statement that jazz singers are better. I happen to love Rosemary Clooney. It is simply a matter of categorization and honesty.

"How can anyone define an area of song so diverse that it can include an untrained, corrugated voice like that of the New Orleans barrelhouse singer-pianist Billie Pierce, and the superb vocal instrument that was Sarah Vaughan's? Or contrast the brash, unsubtle shout of Ruth Brown with the fragile, bell-like tone of Teddi King?"

Looking back at the singers' responses, we see that they did not mention vocal quality. This is not a criterion in the judging of "jazz or not jazz," though it may be one of the most striking characteristics to the public ear.

It seems to me that the question, "What is a jazz singer?" is no different from the question, "What is a jazz instrumentalist?". If we look at the singers' responses as if they were answering the latter question, they are still very appropriate responses. The jazz voice is an instrument, the instrument that leads the band.

I fully expect to gain new insight tomorrow in class. We shall see if anything causes me to change my mind!

Bruce Wands Comments Class 3 – Ken Burns Documentary

Bruce Wands Comments Class 3 – Ken Burns Documentary

I bought the DVD set of the Ken Burns documentary a few years ago, before I had decided to pursue the MA in jazz history and research. While I watched a few episodes, I did not get that involved with it. When I started the program in January, I began to work my way through it from beginning to end. I was taking the Jazz Literature course with John Howland, and it provided some additional information and another perspective on the material that was being covered in class. All in all, I watched certain episodes several times and went through the entire set two or three times. I was looking forward to this class to hear Lewis’s and my other classmates discussion and opinions on the series. This helped me to focus and redefine my opinions, as well as fill in any gaps that existed. I agree that the amount of time spent on varying time periods in jazz history was inappropriate and not egalitarian. While I feel that the period between 1900 and 1940, roughly speaking, was well done, the lack of material on current jazz and how it is still evolving did bother me a lot. Ken Burns seemed to have a foregone conclusion that jazz had a “golden age” and that contemporary jazz does not have as much relevance. The problem with this argument is that music, for example swing, was the contemporary and popular music of the day. However, in his defense, I did find that the linking of the history of jazz to the current events of the day and America history was useful to me. I also feel that I can now discuss this documentary with people in a much more informed and clear way.

Bruce Wands Comments Class 2 – Improvisation

Bruce Wands Comments Class 2 – Improvisation

I found this class to be very enlightening. The readings were interesting, as they traced the history of improvisation from the classical music era to the present. I also found the final part of the readings on the different types of improvisation helpful. Lewis’s playing of the recordings really helped me to expand my musical viewpoint. His approach to talk about jazz in the different countries and regions, and then follow it up with reference to jazz musicians who used that type of music also provided me with insight and some future directions for my listening and research. I have spent a lot of time listening to Indian music and getting more history and perspective was good. I went to musicindiaonline.com and found it to be a wonderful resource. It took a minute or two to get it working, but I will use it a lot in the future. I also plan to purchase the “Raga Guide”. Lewis is definitely knowledgeable in this area and I found it one of the better parts of the class, due to my own interest, as well. The sections on Flamenco and Latin music were also good and, all in all, I came away from the class session with a much deeper appreciation of improvisation, world music, and how it relates to jazz.

Jim Pepper- Ken Burns

One issue addressed in several of the readings that was not brought up in class was the problem with the “Great Men” approach to history. From my experience with studying history in a variety of subject areas as an undergrad, this is a topic that is interesting to me, as much of what’s been covered monographs has shifted from biographical focus on key individuals to more emphasis on the overall society or common people, although most of the history books in stores like Borders consist of biographies or surveys of a topic. To look at important figures like Armstrong and Ellington (two strongest examples shown in the film) with this “Great Men” approach marginalizes all others involved in their period and propels the two to cult-like status. This brings up the question of who the intended audience was (which is key in critically evaluating any form of media). If the intended audience is assumed to be the general public, most of which are unfamiliar with jazz, then Burns’ approach to covering figures like Armstrong and Ellington is the same as what’s found in other popular topics in history.

However, the way it is presented is definitely troubling, particularly with Burns’ selection of source interviews and especially his argument in the last episode about the decline and subsequent “salvation” of jazz by Wynton Marsalis, which is presented in an authoritative way that suggests it’s definite fact and not a persuasive argument (and one I could not disagree with more). There will always be some kind of bias in any form of media whether it’s a film or book. We may be able to look at the film critically enough to address its many faults. But unfortunately, for those who are unfamiliar with jazz and are watching this to get a better understanding or gain interest in the subject, they may not look at it as critically as we do, and will most likely see what is presented in this film as absolute fact.

On the other hand, as the readings note, the film provided recognition for jazz through its nineteen hours that is important to acknowledge. From my own experience it is relevant because of its use in jazz band classes in the high school setting. But when it is used in this way, the class needs to be prepared to discuss it and address problems presented in it.

Jim Pepper- Improvisation

The definition of improvisation can differ among regions and cultures just as it does in Western culture with different definitions within the jazz and classical worlds. As the examples provided in class as well as from the readings demonstrate, it is important to avoid generalizations when looking at world music and their views on improvisation because of the significant differences, although there are interesting similarities to note in some cases. Like we saw in class, jazz is much more developed in terms of improvisation in the freedoms that a musician is allowed, since so many other styles have many more restrictions in what they can play. Some of these world music traditions are so cemented in local custom or religion that it could be considered offensive to deviate from.

One idea that I found especially interesting from the readings was A.J. Racy referred to as “glocalization,” in which local traditions and customs are embraced in the face of a shrinking world as communication has become more available. Dr. Porter suggested that a worthwhile way to research in the field of ethnomusicology would be to compare recordings from the early twentieth century with recordings today, which I think would be an interesting way to measure any possible effects of globalization on music. One question I have been thinking about since Thursday’s class relates to this is if there was any significant Western influence on the music of these regional traditions and styles, since it was addressed in class that European nations were each more familiar with the music of nations and regions that were formerly colonies.

Personally, I was very interested in the class’ coverage of Indian music, specifically with looking at the ragas, and admit to not knowing much about the genre prior to the readings or the class. I have always been too intimidated to look at Indian music studies, but after Thursday I felt more at ease about it, particularly with the amount of similarities in Western scales and modes used. What bothered me from this discussion was the "world music" that is sold under that label at most music stores in the US, something we covered near the end of the class. With just a simple glance at the bestsellers on Amazon under “World Music,” most of what you find is essentially western popular music with a “world” sound that is more like a gimmick nothing like the interesting kinds of musical examples that we were able to hear in class that are genuinely different.

Matt Kassel: Ken Burns Response

Although I haven’t seen the whole Ken Burns Jazz documentary, I inevitably have conflicted feelings about the film after our discussion on Friday. It’s clear that regardless of how good or bad or accurate or self-righteous or academic or long or short this film was, critics and jazz nuts were going to be talking about it.

But the nature of the film—due to its corporate sponsorship, its mass-marketing strategies, and its 19-hour, segmented debut on PBS—demanded that the critics and jazz nuts pay a little more attention.

The discussion we had seemed to confront the merits of populist appeal versus the merits of scholarly integrity. Ken Burns Jazz, it is safe to say, leaned more toward populist appeal, with its notions of American originality, jazz as democracy, and its pigeonholing storyline that rendered interesting facts subservient to the Burns-Ward view of history.

But personally—and I can’t say my feelings are final because I am not fully ensconced in the jazz world—I am less offended by Ken Burns Jazz than I thought I would be after slogging through those articles we read. This is not because I am grateful that at least some who would not have known a thing about jazz were exposed to it through this documentary. (I think that might apply for a documentary like, say, the Buena Vista Social Club, whose music few would have known about—besides a few eccentric aficionados—were it not for that film.)

I don’t think anything presented by NPR or PBS is bound to reach a mass youth audience—which is probably the most important audience for jazz to reach in order for it to gain some steam. Ben Ratliff has written that jazz is not so popular today because its potential audience does not feel as though it owns this music. In this case, ownership implies cultural relevance, understanding, empathy. And we all know Burns Jazz did wonders for jazz by cutting down the last forty years to a vignette of modern musicians that seemed more like an embalming or some forged obituary than a glance to the future.

But despite its historical inaccuracies and hagiographical bombast about genius and American bravery, Ken Burns Jazz seems indicative of the general perception people who know no better have of jazz. I don’t think the documentary was a reinforcement of that general perception, just a restatement. So in that sense, it wasn’t as much a disservice to jazz as it seems.

There are so many talented, young musicians out there today. And I think their music is more accessible than some of the indie-rock bands that are proliferating. That’s not because I’m a jazz fan; it’s because I think jazz is enlivening and full of emotion and that it can reach many people. That’s not to say it has, or that it will.

I’m just saying I think people who will find jazz will find jazz, and those who won’t, well, it’s not necessarily society’s fault, or their fault, or jazz’s fault. And in fact, to consider it a fault is to exalt jazz. For a long time, I listened almost exclusively to jazz. (I still listen almost exclusively to jazz. I consider this more a weakness than a strength.) I wasn’t surprised that my friends didn’t dig jazz as much as I did. They respected it, as a lot of people do, but that doesn’t go very far in terms of enjoyment.

But I’m sure that if I brought someone who did not care or know much about jazz to the Village Vanguard on any night of the week, then that person would change his mind about the shape of jazz to come.

Matt Kassel: World Music Response

After I saw Bela Fleck with Zakir Hussain and Edgar Meyer a few weeks ago at the Keswick Theatre, the word fusion popped into my head a lot while thinking about the performance. And in class, as Lewis wrapped up our world music session by playing us samples of modern world music records, the word fusion also popped into my head.

I don’t mean to compare what seemed like a sub-par Gaelic-rock band to an all-star trio, but most world music collaborations, to me, have similar natures. The Fleck-Hussain-Meyer collaboration represented a confluence of disparate musical backgrounds—bluegrass (Fleck), classical (Meyer), and Indian classical (Hussain)—that somehow managed to avoid sounding completely like any one of those distinct backgrounds.

As I understand it, fusion was a marketing word, as is world music (not the way the ethnomusicologists use it), and new age. It has its purposes, but it’s ambiguous. It doesn’t say much. All music is a fusion of something. All music has its ties to influences from around the world. Classifications reduce.

If you were going to describe the Fleck music I saw, you’d need a lot of adjectives, so it seems useful to add the word fusion in there somewhere. But to me, it’s a red herring: it directs attention away from the bare bones of a type of music. (I think Herbie Hancock’s album Rockit was intended as a pop album, but it got labeled as jazz-fusion.)

We come across these problems of fusion in jazz a lot. Musicians are often drawing on musical resources from around the world—Africa, the Caribbean, South America, and so on. Usually the word jazz supersedes the relevant influence in the music, or it becomes a combination word—like Latin jazz.

For example, I saw Miguel Zenon perform the other night with a group of Puerto Rican pandero players—he was drawing on the folkloric music of his native Puerto Rico: plena. But I wouldn’t call it plena, what he played. I’d call the music jazz with hints of plena in it—albeit big hints. And the reason for that, most likely, is because of the huge ethic of improvisation in jazz, that, as we saw, is present in other musical idioms, but which is so essential to jazz’s lifeblood.

I don’t think there’s any way of getting around using the word fusion sometimes. I guess no word, or set of words, really does complete justice to a musical form. But there are lazy words out there, and I think fusion is one of them.

Ken Burns' JAZZ: Knowing His Audience

Unlike his other two projects on the Civil War and baseball, Ken Burns' jazz project faced an immediate significant obstacle, which is the relative unpopularity of the subject. He had to convince people to watch first of all a documentary, and next a documentary on jazz, a subject perceived by the general public as boring and inaccessible.

Regardless of the quality of the project, if he did not overcome this obstacle, then the project would not reach his intended audience, and it would not be a commercial success, and his grantors would be highly disappointed.

The Burns intended audience was the general public, not the "jazzerati" as he has coined the community of jazz scholars, knowledgable fans, and musicians.

So, the question facing him was, How to make jazz history interesting -- exciting, even -- and accessible to the general public?

I think he answered this question in several key ways.

If a jazz historian made a film, I believe it would be an historical jewel, filled with original examples and the words of the best scholars, and with every fact checked repeatedly and highly methodically. The focus of the project would be the information. In contrast, I believe the focus of Ken Burns' project was the film.

A film is a vital, powerfully immediate way to disseminate information. I thought that Mr. Burns used the "tricks" of filmmaking brilliantly: camera effects, facial expressions, the sound and flow of intense voices, visually arresting imagery such as dancing and excited crowds, and a sense of pacing and surprise as we move from one passage to the next. I do not doubt that aspects of historical accuracy were sacrificed to allow for choices in fimmaking.

Storytelling is another element of outreach to the public audience. We all know that "everyone loves a good story." In his choice of interviewees, I believe Ken Burns was swayed by storytelling ability. In fact, I was strongly reminded of Woody Allen's film "Sweet and Lowdown," a fictitious biopic about a character named Emmett Ray, a jazz guitarist. It is not a far stretch to imagine Woody Allen's face appearing in the Burns film, relating in his Woody Allen way some late-night, shady scenario he witnessed where famous jazz artists were involved. In any case, good stories and storytellers are essential to capturing the attention of the viewing audience. I believe this is why historical events were sometimes "Hollywoodized" in the Burns film, perhaps making them seem more dramatic than they actually were.

Perhaps most importantly, Mr. Burns needed to show his audience how the subject related to them. He did this through the explanation of jazz as mirroring the human experience, and by connecting jazz to the American identity. In the initial introduction, the narrator said that "jazz was born out of… negotiations." Those "negotiations" included "the haves and have nots, blacks and whites, men and women," and others. Then Wynton Marsalis said that jazz "deals with" things people might not want to face, difficult emotions or fears or desires. Right away, the film speaks directly to the viewer, telling her "This film is about you."

I think that if Mr. Burns had focused completely on the music and factual events, the audience would have felt disconnected and unable to perceive the importance of the subject.

The American patriotism angle may have alienated international viewers, but I think Ken Burns truly believes that jazz is essentially American, and he wanted the film to stay true to his vision, and I also think his intended market was the American public. Incidentally, I can offer insight as to the Chinese music student reception of the film. As I said in class, I showed the film in a jazz history class while teaching in a private music school in Beijing. Students came from all over China to attend this school. There was indeed a sense of alienation to the film's message, since these were students trying to learn to play jazz, and they felt that if the music is quintessentially American then they could never do it well. In their minds, it was equal to a Westerner trying to perform Chinese opera. But, when they put this question to me, I answered excitedly that they could play jazz well and they should put their all into it. I tried to explain that there is something universal about the American ideal of individualism and freedom of expression. This was difficult to get across considering their cultural obstacles, but that is a story for another blog.

Though we have different methods and goals, Ken Burns and we "jazzerati" have a common enemy. We are constantly fighting the negative social perceptions of our field. I think that with his Jazz project, Mr. Burns has fought on the front lines for all of us. His film has inspired debate and a renewed popular interest in our subject. Now it is up to us to slowly but surely correct the facts. Our job is just as important as his.

Making Historical Comparisons

I love the idea of using a century's worth of recordings to make historical comparisons. This historical study is important to the development of one's individual artistic performance. I teach jazz piano lessons, and often when I assign a tune to a student I will have the student listen to several different recordings of the tune. I want the student to understand that the music has evolved since its original publishing and recording. For example, right now in my iTunes library I have "A Night in Tunisia" performed by Al Hirt in 2003, the Count Basie Big Band in 1954, the composer Dizzy Gillespie's 1947 recording, Ella Fitzgerald in 1962, and McCoy Tyner in 2000 on solo piano.

In 50 years how has the performance of the tune evolved? Many of us recognize it immediately by its bass line. But now that it has been deeply ingrained in our consciousness, all we need is to hear the Eb7 | D minor pairing. McCoy Tyner plays an "approximation" of the famous bass line, using fewer notes but maintaining the tune's recognizable rhythmic feel.

Ella Fitzgerald's performance differs from the rest of course, due to the presence of lyrics (written by Jon Hendricks in 1942). Her performance of the tune is slower, allowing the words to be more clearly understood. As piano players interpreting a melody, the resource of sung words leads us to a very different place than the resource of instrumental lines.

As we learned in class, much of the classical music of other cultures, including Indian and African cultures, has not evolved over time due to several factors. One is the definition of the music -- there is sometimes a sense that if the music were changed, it would be something different entirely. It would become separate from the people's cultural identity. Another factor is religious and spiritual significance. Like a favorite prayer, the music is "recited" the same way every time.

So, the malleability of jazz (and blues and rock) is a unique factor of this music. It makes it difficult to define, and it makes historical comparisons much more vital. In the world of jazz, the performance of a tune can be influenced by anything at all. This process of growing and gathering influences is essential to the career of a jazz musician. Of course, Dave Brubeck can play "Take Five" the same way he did fifty years ago and the audience will be thoroughly satisfied. But is he satisfied? I personally would love to hear him go different ways with it.

In the Ken Burns review by David Hajdu, he quotes the jazz historian Whitney Balliard as saying "[Jazz] music will persist as long as it radiates its unique emotional energy and catches us by surprise with an untoward phrase or sound." In other words, the growth and evolution of jazz is essential to its survival. The public has become accustomed to this element of surprise, and the audience expects it when they hear concerts. But, in some forms of Indian and African music, the music will only survive as long as it stays the same.

Gretchen--Post 3--Ken Burns Jazz

As a whole, I believe the seemingly endless controversy that surrounds Ken Burns’ Jazz reflects many of the major overarching debates that permeate the jazz community. What is jazz? Who should/should not be included within the jazz community? Should jazz history follow a linear, great-man approach, or be more interdisciplinary? Should social histories of jazz take precedence over music-theoretical analyses? Is jazz an art form? How do we decide which pieces should be included within the jazz canon? Is it possible to separate jazz from race? The list goes on. I think it is safe to say that until these issues become resolved—which they probably never all will—Ken Burns’ Jazz will serve as a ripe field for criticism, controversy, and debate.

As Dr. Porter has mentioned frequently, everything made or interpreted by humans has a political agenda. Regardless of how hard we might try to make a history factual and completely unbiased, as Ken Burns’ production team termed “getting it right,” we will always bring our own viewpoints and biases into what we are writing, interpreting, or presenting. In Jazz, the agendas of Wynton Marsalis, Stanley Crouch, Ralph Ellison, and Albert Murray saturate the narrative, emphasizing jazz as art music, American music, and inextricably linked with the struggles and triumphs of the African-American race. Admittedly, the documentary, while beautifully executed, has its limitations. Its incessant use of absolutisms (“the greatest,” “the best,” “the only”), idealistic portrayals of its heroes, biased representation of different jazz styles and artists, and sometimes less-than-accurate “facts” are but some of these. Nevertheless, what history does not contain biases, misinterpreted facts, and a story to fit the agenda of the writer? While I am by no means advocating a less-than-objective approach to historical research, I also feel that it is naïve and somewhat immature to completely disregard Jazz—clearly one of the most influential jazz histories available—by nitpicking its faults and overlooking its assets. As I said in class, I can see both sides of the controversy. When I was first exposed to this documentary, I was coming from the perspective of the general audience. While I was trained in classical music, I knew little to nothing about jazz, and was unaware of the extent of style and artist omission that has caused so much fury among jazz critics and scholars. At first watch, I was very impressed and completely drawn in to the stories, music, and history. Now, as a graduate student studying jazz, I am much more aware of the limitations of these films, and wholeheartedly accept the consideration of “what is missing” as a means to build more effective histories in the future. However, to return to my point—there is much that even jazz scholars can learn from Ken Burns Jazz. The point is, the documentary has been made. It has been distributed, people have bought it, people have loved it, and it is not going anywhere. As Dr. Porter suggested, it has real cultural significance. It is not going to be recalled like a bad produce crop. Therefore, in a much more productive approach than the “spot what’s wrong with Ken Burns’ Jazz” game, we can turn the missing pieces into a foundation for our further study. Our job as scholars is to fill in those missing pieces, so the public can have as much access to information as possible. If anything, Jazz helped open up minds, making audiences more receptive to the information that we have yet to share with them.

John Petrucelli Post 3

For our latest class, we talked a great deal about Ken Burns and the various problems associated with the making of the documentary. I decided to look further into Icons Among Us, often viewed as an opposition, or a response to Jazz by modern day musicians. According to an interview I found with executive producer John Comerford,

(http://www.npr.org/blogs/ablogsupreme/2009/06/icons_among_us_an_interview_wi_1.html) he states that “The urgency came from the directors' communication and relationships with musicians who were reacting to the historical portrait of jazz that had just been completed by the great documentary filmmaker Ken Burns. And I think that the contacts the directors had were feeling like jazz is primarily about spontaneity and improvisation, so we should pay attention to the moment. And the moment at the turn of the millennium was dictating that we listen to the voices of the living generation of musicians and we elevate them and explore their work and deepen their audiences. And their response to it was, "Hey, what about us?"

Primarily, the documentary follows twin conclusions about the nature of jazz in modern times and its direction for the future. First, they promote the view that jazz has irrevocably changed from the ‘good old times’ of swing and especially bebop, and argue that musicians should not seek to emulate and imitate these artists in an attempt to pay homage. I think this deemphasizes the mystique and “god-like” aura around these musicians in favor of the view that the music of today is equally worthy of the status given to the great musicians of the past. For instance, Ravi Coltane states something along the lines that it is not enough for a modern day musician to imitate and play like Sonny Rollins. But if that person can Sonny’s influence and mix it with what is going on with the sounds and concepts of his contemporaries, then the end result could be unique.

Secondly, they want to demonstrate that jazz has survived, it has become even stronger thanks to an wave of new players bringing fresh ideas to the music. Terence Blanchard sums it up, saying that “there is a movement of some young guys, that is like the quietest revolution in jazz that I have ever heard in my life. And it’s amazing, because they are a group of young musicians that definitely have vision. History will tell the tale that things have moved on and changed and we are never, ever, going back.”

However, I was also surprised to find a spot when we screened part of the movie yesterday where they also seem to attribute the ‘rebirth’ of jazz to Wynton and Branford Marsalis. As we demonstrated yesterday however, this view seems absurd considering the cast of players on the scene during this time. While we did mention that, I would just like to mention a few myself. Miles Davis was collaborating with sideman like Dave Liebman, Bob Berg, and many other players who also began successful careers as leaders. George Coleman collaborated with Billy Higgins, Cedar Walton, Mulgrew Miller and others. Horace Silver played with sideman Bob Berg, the Brecker brothers (who started their own band) and others. Blakey was collaborating with Dave Schnitter, Bobby Watson, Valeri Ponomarev. Woody Shaw released an album nearly every year through the 70s, including Rosewood, which was nominated for two Grammys. In fact, it seems contradictory that Wynton Marsalis, who stated in this interview (http://woodyshaw.com/Press/article_woodyshaw.pdf) that His[Woody’s] whole approach influenced me tremendously," would not push to include him or acknowledge his presence and role in Jazz. Rather, Wynton never seeks to correct the claim that he saved jazz in either documentary, which is a troubling conception that has permeated our culture as a result of both of these documentaries. I think it would be inappropriate to view the documentary as an opposition to Jazz. First of all, they do include Wynton Marsalis in the documentary, which I think was a way to present a more balanced view of the current state of jazz and to also demonstrate that they were not ‘taking aim at Wynton’ without him having a chance to respond.

Additionally, in the following quote, the author reveals his own tendency to ascribe to the idea that jazz is a conversation, an idea which stems from Wynton’s comment in the Ken Burns documentary that jazz is a dialogue. Michael Katzif states:

I think the film captures this somewhat spontaneous and conversational feeling, mirroring jazz music. It's more of a free-form look at the music and the philosophies behind it. How much did you plan in terms of structure and conveying certain points of view in that conversation?

In any case, I feel very conflicted about the status of Jazz the documentary. On the one hand, I think that having both documentaries is a truly great thing, and I think that it has and will continue to inspire a great deal of interest and participation in jazz. I think Jazz, for all its faults, is a good way to lower the barrier of entry for people looking for more information on jazz. If they get deeply enough into the music to seek out or learn about the errors in the documentary, that would be great. I think the most necessary thing that needed to be presented would be a documentary on the state of jazz currently, which now exists. But I also have deep reservations about information that is misrepresented in both films, especially in the academic context that the Ken Burns documentary is often used. This is because I think that a younger generation of people in jazz are taking Jazz as the truth, without doing further research. The person who was asked about jazz during in the 70s before Wynton and Branford hit the scene was a younger man who didn't look like he would have been there to witness it (I didn't catch his name on Friday) and I think that the mythos of Wynton and Branford "saving" jazz was solidified by the new documentary.