Influences of Black British Jazz on Modern British Jazz Identity and Music

by Clive Powell

Artistic Director - Jazz Alive

Methodology
In my efforts to discuss the statement above and arrive at an informed conclusion, I have
reviewed relevant secondary information sources including published articles, books, book
reviews, website blogs and conduct a primary source interview with a key practitioner of BBJ
(Black British Jazz).i

The historical context of black jazz heritage

Several studies show us that the lineage of jazz in the British Isles can be traced beyond the
landmark date of the arrival from America of the controversial all-white Original Dixieland
Jazz Band (ODJB) in April 1919. There are numerous precedents like ragtime, blues,
vaudeville songs and even minstrelsy (that continued well into the early 1970’s, with the
BBC’s televised program, “the Black and White Minstrel Show”) that could be considered
early forms of the jazz idiom. Rye (1990) traces the lineage beyond 1919 stating, “there is no
clear dividing line, either in fact or in public consciousness, between the [black] minstrelsy of
the nineteenth century and those forms of Afro-American music which have been known
since 1920 as jazz and blues” (p. 45). Shipton (2001) concurs with Rye and asserts, “in
reality the syncopated orchestra had got their first” (p.52). According to Mckay ( 2005),
Shipton is referring to: “James Reese Europe’s Hellfighters and Will Vodery’s black band in
the war theatre in 1918 and then Will Marion Cook in London in the following year” (p.132).
This ongoing contestation as to who first introduced jazz to Britain is not purely a matter of
fact in terms of precedent and dates, but also a matter of ownership and heritage which later
affected the identity of modern jazz and its common interpretation, communication and
implementation. Since, in 1919 two bands arrived separately to play in London. One, the all
white New Orleanians , Original Dixieland Jazz Band (ODJB) in April and the other, the
black Southern Syncopated Orchestra (SSO) in June. The former are much reported to have
claimed to have even invented jazz and despite the very different performance styles,
repertoire, audiences, exposure and levels of popular success of both groups, Parsonage
(2005) acknowledges that both of these groups were “vital to the evolution of jazz in Britain”
(p.160). Somewhat controversially, Parsonage concludes her analysis of the ODJB and SSO
by stating it was the SSO and not the ODJB “which received serious musical criticism that
began to establish black music and jazz as significant art forms in the twentieth century”
(p.162).

What Jazz musicians expect from journalists and critics p 3

Posted on September 27, 2011

NEA Jazz Master Benny Golson is one of the most erudite musicians, a true master of elocution and language. A man of abundant wisdom and wit, Golson is one of the most agreeable people in the music. When posed with our dialogue question, it seems this is a subject Benny has been contemplating for some time; his response was the following, the first of two related, common sense essays. Hard for me to find much if anything to disagree with in Benny’s take. How about you?
Again, our question to musicians:
WHEN YOU READ JAZZ JOURNALISM AND CRITICISM WHAT QUALITIES ARE YOU LOOKING FOR IN THE WRITER AND THE WRITING?

The Jazz Critic
by Benny Golson
There are times when we love the critics, while at other times we hate them. But realistically, we need them. Can you imagine every performing artist constantly telling everyone how good he is, or how bad he is, for that matter? We’d soon become suspect of those constantly telling everyone how good he is. And few would tell how bad they are because of not wanting to be viewed as bad. And what about not having enough talent or ability to actually know this. Result? Less than the truth might creep into the picture along the way because of one’s desire to actually be good, accepted, approved. There are some things in life that are ineluctable and this might be one of them. We realistically sometimes need someone to assess what we do, an opinion other than our own, an onlooker, a listener, a professional outsider. However, because of who the reviewer is and what he knows and understands, or perhaps what he does not know or understand, or perhaps is opinionated, we are sometimes “be damned if I do, be damned if I don’t.”
Unfortunately, many things can get in the way of an objective review though. First of all, a review is the professional opinion of the person reviewing, right or wrong, good or bad. Sometimes he’s sharp, sometimes he’s not. There sometimes exists the possibility that he might, for some personal reason, be vindictive, sad to say. Or perhaps he doesn’t really understand the length and breadth of the music, though he sophistically thinks he does, in which case he and his sophistry are off and running. This kind of thinking has even resulted in a few telling the reader what the person being reviewed was thinking when playing, or possibly what he was trying to achieve. That’s about as dense as one can get, unless the performer actually gives him privy to such information. Those who do this without any kind of verbal intercourse with the artist, lay themselves bare to much humiliation and criticism, of course. They sometimes get caught up in the suicidal arrogance of ignorance. I remember it happening to J.J. Johnson once back in the late sixties. J.J. came to his own defense and the reviewer was made to look like an utter fool. It also happened to me. The reviewer had put me down quite hard for everything I’d done on an album, and it was not true. The review was a complete vituperation, a non-poetic put down from beginning to end.
The reviewer was also a writer (arranger). I don’t think he was trying to elevate himself; he just didn’t like me or anything I stood for, therefore, becoming supererogatory, going far beyond anything that was necessary and relevant. Though I usually ignore this sort of thing, he’d gone so far as to besmear my reputation and character and bring my honesty and integrity into question. It was absolutely unbelievable. I had no choice but to retaliate. I asked Downbeat, the magazine in which his review appeared, if I could write a rebuttal. They said, “Yes!” Whereupon I meticulously dissected everything he wrote and honestly laid it bare before the readers. Downbeat printed every word, and there were many. After it appeared, I received myriad telephone calls of congratulations, not only from musicians, but from all sectors of the jazz community, many of whom I didn’t know.
Today? They sometimes, but thank goodness not too often, come up with a catechism-like review that contains only answers but no questions which gives the impression they already know everything. This exceeds presumptuousness and approaches insanity, because they not only evaluate the music but also try to assess and evaluate the mind as well. Most have wisely learned to avoid this practice, however.
But a word of caution to the artist. When a review is favorable, many of us tend not to worry too much, even if the performance was not good. In the end, however, each musician should know the quality of what he’s done no matter what shade the review takes. Even when receiving favorable reviews, if we know we have not excelled, we who are honest, often feel we’d like to apologize to everyone. On the other had, if we have excelled and get an unfavorable review, this tends to conjure up anger, or disappointment, or humiliation, and all kinds of frustrating feelings, perhaps throwing us into the realm of “The Law Of Unintended Consequences,” getting even tit for tat, and perhaps even a bit more if possible, in spite of all else. Therefore, we, the musicians, must have a balanced view about what we do and how it’s received. Even must realize that even with superhuman effort we can never please everybody; it’s impossible. But that’s not what we set out to do; we must, without arrogance, please ourselves first. However, we’re not obdurate concerning audiences-we do what we must and hope they like it. In either case, good or bad, if the information by way of a review is not accurate, the public is sold a bill of goods because of the way a reviewer heard it, unfortunately. But in his defense I must say he just might be right.
One will always feel good about a favorable review. But if he’s honest, he should sometimes feel good about an unfavorable one. Why? Because, as I said, the critic might be right and the one being accessed could benefit from his review as he tries to improve and/or re-think things, providing he is indeed completely honest.
At times, but not always, it’s the reviewer’s personal taste that guides him rather than objectivity. As a result, strange, convoluted and aberrational things begin showing up in his evaluations, even though he might actually mean well. No critic is ever anasylphallic-like nor a Tabula Rasa. Though we’d sometimes like to accuse them of these physical and mental afflictions; most have good minds and are able to make good use of the thinking process. What is sometimes brought into question, though, is what they think of when putting pen to paper. Compounding the matter are those fans, and would- be-fans, who word for word, accept everything these critics write as seeming oracles of truth, which in reality is sometimes as believable as the myths, “One size fits all,” or “On time airline departures.”

A Blues Recording From The Congo -- In 1906

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The Congo River Basin: Birthplace of the Blues?

This is the first post in a new biweekly blog feature, You Don't Know Jazz! With Dr. Lewis Porter. For the series introduction, click here.

(PLEASE NOTE: If the reader uses any of the material from this series, no matter how brief, this article and its web address must be cited as the source. Thank you for respecting the intellectual property of Dr. Porter.)

Finally--Proof that the MELODIC content of African American music (not just the rhythm) comes from Africa!
In talking about the African origins of African American music, most people fall back on comparing African drumming troupes with jazz bands—and from that starting point, either they try desperately to show that African drums and jazz are similar (Gunther Schuller, Marshall Stearns, many others) or they argue that there is too little similarity (Randy Sandke, most recently). This recording shows that they are all on the wrong track: African MELODIES have survived in African American music--especially the blues--and this recording proves it!
When I play this for my graduate students, invariably they say right away “That's the blues!” Not only can you hear the flutist(s) playing very familiar blues licks over and over, he  constantly goes back and forth between the major third and the “blue” third! (Pardon the technical terms, but I think this will be audible to all listeners -- click the audio example below for more explanation of this.)
Although this incredible recording was released on CD in 2000 and is in the public domain, nobody – not even the people who wrote the 284-page booklet that accompanies this 4-CD set – has commented on its use of the blues scale sound!
Also—this is key—the Congo IS one of the areas from which Africans were taken to North America (even to Manhattan, as research has shown). Although the Congo is in central Africa, it has a strip along the Congo river that connects the region to the West African coast. And the Congo culture (also spelled Kongo in English) was an important force in African history.
Click the audio links below for more from Dr. Porter on this fascinating recording and the (mis)representation of African music in jazz historiography, in which he answers many questions, including:
-- Are there other recordings like this one?
-- How far back in time do we need to go to find the African roots of African American music?
-- What documentation is there of African music from that era?
-- What geographical areas of Africa would have influenced African-American music?
--Is African music all about troupes of drummers?
--Why has there been such emphasis on the drumming troupes in the Western imagination of Africa?

Myths About Jazz: Part Two

May 19, 2011. Posted by Alex Rodriguez.

Add new comment | Filed under: You Don't Know Jazz

The first jazz instruments? Not so fast.

This is the fourth post in a biweekly blog feature, You Don't Know Jazz! With Dr. Lewis Porter.

Series Introduction

Episode 1: A Blues Recording From the Congo -- In 1906!

Episode 2: The Origins of the Word "Jazz"

Episode 3: Myths About Jazz, Part One

(PLEASE NOTE: If the reader uses any of the material from this series, no matter how brief, this article and its web address must be cited as the source. Thank you for respecting the intellectual property of Dr. Porter.)

Debunking the Myths: Can you believe what you read about jazz?
This week I continue our series discussing common statements about jazz and its history. These are so common on the web, in books, and in interviews that I’m sure you’ve heard them before. (For some of them I have included links to show how they are being used even in reputable sites.) Actually, as you’ll hear on the podcasts, not all are really “myths.” Some are totally wrong, but others are only partly wrong. In some cases they don't make logical sense; and when they do make sense, some are so misleading and simplistic that they might as well be totally wrong.
For example, you'll often read that "Jazz was born in the 1890s, or around 1900."
This statement can easily be found all over the internet: eHow, jazz history blogs (another example here), and elsewhere.
But the jazz musicians-to-be were still children then, so that can't be true! For more on this myth, have a listen below:
Another myth is the common statement, "Jazz started in New Orleans and went up the Mississippi River to Chicago."
Really? Have you looked at a map lately!?

Still, the Mississippi did play an important role in early jazz -- listen to the audio to understand the distinction:
A lot of people make the claim, "The blues is a very old song form." (Examples of this can be found here and here.) But As you'll hear below, the blues actually has a lot more to do with modern times:
Finally, there is the myth that I touched on in the first episode of this series: "Jazz has its roots in African drumming." Here is one example of that myth (complete with the stereotyped image of Africans drumming at the top!) As I mentioned before, African melodic instruments have had just as much to say about jazz. Listen below for more on the origins of this misunderstanding:
For further reading:

Myths About Jazz

Part Three

June 9, 2011. Posted by Alex Rodriguez.

Add new comment | Filed under: You Don't Know Jazz

One of the few remaining buildings in the area once called Storyville

This is the fifth post in a biweekly blog feature, You Don't Know Jazz! With Dr. Lewis Porter.

Series Introduction

Episode 1: A Blues Recording From the Congo -- In 1906!

Episode 2: The Origins of the Word "Jazz"

Episode 3: Myths About Jazz, Part One

Episode 4: Myths About Jazz, Part Two

(PLEASE NOTE: If the reader uses any of the material from this series, no matter how brief, this article and its web address must be cited as the source. Thank you for respecting the intellectual property of Dr. Porter.)

Debunking the Myths: Can you believe what you read about jazz?
This week I continue our series discussing common statements about jazz and its history, focusing on myths about the so-called birthplace of jazz, New Orleans. These are so common on the web, in books, and in interviews that I’m sure you’ve heard them before. (For some of them I have included links to show how they are being used even at reputable sites.) Actually, as you’ll hear on the podcasts, not all are really “myths.” Some are totally wrong, but others are only partly wrong. In some cases they don't make logical sense; and when they do make sense, some are so misleading and simplistic that they might as well be totally wrong. The myths are in bold, with commentary, examples and a brief audio explanation below each one:
"Jazz began in Storyville, the red light (legalized prostitution) district of New Orleans.”

Storyville: not the best place for a gig

It may seem a trivial point, but music is never created entirely on the gig—it formulates during the many hours of rehearsals and practice sessions that musicians put in at each others’ homes. Storyville was merely a place where the musicians got gigs, and it wasn’t the only place, and they were not necessarily the best gigs. Let’s not sentimentalize the Storyville district.
Click here and here for two examples of the "Storyville origin myth."
Now, have a listen to the podcast to learn more about where jazz did develop in New Orleans:
“When Storyville was closed down in 1917, there was an exodus of jazz musicians from New Orleans looking for work elsewhere."
Since Storyville was not the only place that musicians were employed, there is no need to assume that they were all unemployed and had to flee New Orleans when Storyville closed down! Besides, African American jazz musicians were already touring well before 1917, and—most important of all—the Great Migration of African Americans moving north had begun a few years before!
Click here for one example of the "Storyville exodus myth."
And listen below for more on the state of jazz around the time that Storyville shut down:
"Jazz started as a freely improvised music and gradually became more fixed and professional and artistic as musicians became technically better and learned how to read."
The written, interview and recorded evidence is exactly the opposite! The early bands played highly prepared arrangements (using a combination of sheet music and rehearsed/memorized melodies), and they began adding improvisation into these, especially on blues numbers. They and the next generations got better and better at improvising and took more chances. This fits the facts, and when one thinks about it, it makes way more sense than assuming they totally improvised everything and then forgot how!
Click here, here and here (the third from a highly publicized new textbook) for three examples of the "freely improvised origins myth."
The audio below has more on why these statements get jazz off on the wrong foot:
“In early jazz they stayed close to the tune, rather than improvising on the chords.”

King Oliver: a true improviser

To better understand this myth (click here for an example), let’s listen to two of the most famous jazz recordings of all time, the King Oliver Band’s two recordings of Dippermouth Blues (with Louis Armstrong on cornet as well as Oliver):
(The most acclaimed issue of the complete 1923 King Oliver recordings was produced by David Sager -- the Curator of the Library of Congress's National Jukebox, and a graduate of the Rutgers-Newark Jazz History M.A. -- and Doug Benson.)
If they are not improvising on the chords, what are they playing on? If they are paraphrasing the tune, then what in fact is the tune? In the audio below, you'll learn more about what these players (as well as almost all other early jazz musicians) are doing, if not simply paraphrasing the melody:
Here is Oliver's own handwritten copy of the melody, for comparison:

Byron Wallen "Crazy Black" featuring Lemn Sissay Spoken Word & Orphy Rob...

LOVERS ROCK TRAILER

ANNOUNCEMENT

The welcome return of The Jazz Warriors is a major announcement in the world of UK Black Jazz. This groundbreaking group produced some amazing musicians and music that changed the staid and boring musical landscape of Jazz in the UK in the 1980’s.   This announcement is of huge significance and should kick start a much needed rejuvenation of the British Jazz scene.

The past month has seen a group on Facebook affect a new sensibility and a change in the way the UK treats its main Jazz musicians as well as at the grass roots level.  The group was created on Facebook as a reaction to an incident at the world famous Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in London between the legendary vocalist Cleveland Watkiss and the management of the club.  Following this altercation, Cleveland decided to put up a post on his Facebook page asking questions relating to the conduct of the management Ronnie Scott’s over the past 30 year period towards Black UK Jazz musicians in particular and punters at the club.  The low representation of UK Black Musicians at the club, amounting to approximately 30 appearances by 12 of the biggest artists in the UK over a 27 year period was abysmally low when compared to the 600 odd shows per year at the club.  When this fact was put to the Management, they described their booking policy as a ‘wobbly plate’ and have vowed to re-address the balance.  Needless to say how they intend to do this remains to be seen!

In light of the amazing response on Facebook, many initiatives and ideas have been discussed by the group, some heated and emotive, others quite straight forward.  When Cleveland hinted that an announcement on Facebook last weekend that something would be announced this weekend, no-one thought it could be as incredible a statement as the return of the Warriors.          Welcome back The Jazz Warriors!

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

                                                                                                                                                                        You may write me down in history  

With your bitter, twisted lies,  

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

"Tryptich: Prayer/Protest/Peace" by Max Roach

Fables of Faubus

"Original Faubus Fables" performed by Charles Mingus. Taken from the 1960 "Charles Mingus presents Charles Mingus" record. Composed by Charles Mingus.

It was written as a direct protest against Arkansas governor Orval E. Faubus, who in 1957 sent out the National Guard to prevent the integration of Little Rock Central High School by nine African American teenagers. This composition was also released a year earlier on the "Mingus Ah Um" record as "Fables Of Faubus" but only instrumental as record company Columbia refused the lyrics.

Lyrics:
Oh, Lord, don't let 'em shoot us!
Oh, Lord, don't let 'em stab us!
Oh, Lord, don't let 'em tar and feather us!
Oh, Lord, no more swastikas!
Oh, Lord, no more Ku Klux Klan!

Name me someone who's ridiculous, Dannie.
Governor Faubus!
Why is he so sick and ridiculous?
He won't permit integrated schools.

Then he's a fool! Boo! Nazi Fascist supremists!
Boo! Ku Klux Klan (with your Jim Crow plan)

"Jazz and the Civil Rights Movement" - How Jazz Musicians Spoke Out for Racial Equality - by Jacob Teichroew

by Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington & Ella Fitzgerald on Monday, 08 November 2010 at 20:27

From the days of bebop, when jazz ceased to cater to popular audiences, and instead became solely about the music and the musicians who played it, jazz has been symbolically linked to the civil rights movement. The music, which appealed to whites and blacks alike, provided a culture in which the collective and the individual were inextricable, and in which one was judged by his ability alone, and not by race or any other irrelevant factors. “Jazz,” Stanley Crouch writes, “predicted the civil rights movement more than any other art in America.”

Not only was jazz structured similarly to ideals of the civil rights movement. Jazz musicians took up the cause, using their celebrity and their music to promote racial equality and social justice. Below are just a few cases in which jazz musicians spoke out for civil rights.

Louis Armstrong

Although sometimes criticized by activists and black musicians for playing into an “Uncle Tom” stereotype by performing for mainly white audiences, Louis Armstrong often had a subtle way of dealing with racial issues. In 1929 he recorded “(What Did I Do To Be So) Black and Blue?,” a song from a popular musical. The lyrics include the phrase:

My only sin

Is my skin

What did I do

To be so black and blue?

The lyrics, out of the context of the show, and sung by a black performer in that period, were a risky and weighty commentary.

Armstrong became a cultural ambassador for the U.S. during the cold war, performing jazz all over the world. In response to increasing turmoil swirling around the desegregation of public schools, Armstrong was outspokenly critical of his country. After the 1957 Little Rock Crisis, when the National Guard prevented nine black students from entering a high school, Armstrong canceled a tour to the Soviet Union, and said publicly, “the way they’re treating my people in the South, the government can go to hell.”

Thought of the Day

The government today announced that it's changing its symbol to a CONDOM because it more accurately reflects the government's political stance. A condom allows for inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of dicks, and gives you a sense of security while you're actually being screwed...

Racism On the Notated Page As Well?

by Willard Jenkins

copyright © 2004 Willard Jenkins

First published in NewMusicBox

Racism, one of the ugliest of humankind's most base impulses, is a subject that is broached perhaps more frankly in the arts than in the corporate canyons, but it is never an easy discussion. In the last two issues of the Jazz Journalists Association's in-house quarterly, Jazz Notes, I raised several specters of racism in the print media corner of the jazz world. The first installment dealt with such matters as writer Stanley Crouch's summary dismissal as columnist for JazzTimes magazine, a complicated matter that has been detailed ad nauseum in the pages of JazzTimes, in Newsweek, etc. The party line is that Crouch was dismissed because the magazine was fed up with his missed deadlines and the tone of cronyism in his pieces.

But the controversy was made all the more provocative because Crouch is black and has for the last decade written with a particularly sharp neo-conservative bent. Some found it curious that his dismissal came on the heels of his questioning the media's elevation of white artists he finds questionable. Opposition to Crouch and his views seemed unusually coarse; response to his sacking a bit too gleeful. Though Crouch has written many things I disagree with, his summary dismissal as an agent provocateur/columnist is to put it mildly, rather fishy.

One central issue in the initial installment of my Jazz Notes column was what many African American jazz observers view with understandable skepticism as the relatively premature crowning of white jazz artists, often at the perceived expense of more worthy African American artists; the jazz media engaging in what to some is a flavor-of-the-month club mentality. Examples in recent times include such green and inexperienced jazz singers as Jane Monheit and Peter Cincotti; and on a grander scale the trio known as The Bad Plus. Testimony on these issues came from several non-white jazz artists. In the wake of that article, a panel discussion was rather hastily assembled for the annual International Association for Jazz Education (IAJE) conference in New York. The resulting ill-prepared (the writer was a panelist), train-wreck panel discussion did little to advance the dialogue and much to frustrate nearly all in attendance.

THE SUBTLE RACISM OF "JAZZ"

This article appeared in Just Jazz Guitar (May 2001):  122.   The article generated much discussion, and letters and responses will be featured in this spot in the near future.  Sciabarra's views ("Racial Profiling") were also featured in Jazz Times (June 2001, p. 18).

THE SUBTLE RACISM OF "JAZZ"

By Chris Matthew Sciabarra

Now that I've watched Ken Burns' "Jazz" in its entirety, to give it the fair hearing it deserved, I can honestly say that I am as infuriated as I am inspired. I suppose that is the mark of a good film: it compels one to think hard about the issues raised. As the conclusion of Burns' trilogy on race relations in America, one that began with his "Civil War" and "Baseball" series, "Jazz" is a compelling portrait of the black-white divide, even as it beckons toward the possibility of music as a genuinely universal language. But by subtly perpetuating many of the stereotypes it seeks to conquer, "Jazz" becomes part of the dialogue on race relations in ways that Burns may not have fully anticipated or appreciated.

Throughout the series, we hear competing views of the nature of this music. With one breath, we are told that it is an art form that knows no racial or ethnic boundaries, even though it emerged from the African American experience. But with another breath, we are told that blacks are "innovators," while whites are "appropriators." When a black artist follows in the footsteps of Armstrong or Parker, he's a "disciple." When a white artist follows in those same footsteps, he's simply "stealing." To be sure, Burns presents us with a few notable exceptions - Bix Beiderbecke, Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, and Dave Brubeck - but the overwhelming chorus of opinion is that white musicians are simply "copying," lacking in real "soul" and "emotion." Even among the exceptions, we are given one example of the difference between a white band and a black band. It is said that in a "Battle of the Bands," Goodman's ensemble was wrecked by Chick Webb's. This proves about as much as a similar "battle" of legendary proportions, told to me by those in attendance, when Harry James' "chops" compelled Louis Armstrong to bow in tribute.

More Miles

You want to know how I started playing trumpet? My father bought me one, and I studied the trumpet. And everybody I heard that I liked, I picked up things from.

It was when the Billy Eckstine band came to St. Louis that you first got together with Bird and Diz, wasn't it?

I'd heard 'em on records. But I was playing like that, anyway. You got to understand, man. See white folks always think that you have to have a label on everything—you know what I mean?

Well, I don't, necessarily.

That's how you're spelling everything—when you say: "You heard Diz". But two guys can do the same thing, and still won't see each other. So it was happening, like I say. It actually happened in Kansas City. If you listen to Charlie Parker, he sounds like Ben Webster, you know. Dizzy doesn't sound like Charlie Parker; they're two different people. Right?

Yes. But Dizzy's playing underwent certain changes. Or perhaps evolution is a better word. He doesn't play now the same way he played in his earlier years.

Why?

Well, on some of the early records he sounded something like Roy Eldridge.

Then the critics were wrong, man.

But you couldn't hear the things that developed later in his playing at that time.

Maybe there was nothing to develop. Right?

At a certain point his playing sort of found a new direction, l suppose.

I don't hold it against Dizzy, you know, but if a guy wants to play a certain way, you work towards that. If he stops—he's full of crap, you know. I mean, I wouldn't do it, for no money, or for no place in the white man's world. Not just to make money, because then you don't have anything. You don't have as much money as whoever you're trying to ape; that's making money by being commercial. Then you don't have anything to give the world; so you're not important. You might as well be dead.

That's the way it goes. I mean, guys should keep on doing it right, no matter what it is. If you sacrifice your art because of some woman, or some man, or for some colour, or for some wealth, you can't be trusted.

I mean that goes for anybody. I'm not putting Dizzy down or anybody else, you know. But I think they should just keep on, no matter what happens.

You've always believed in playing exactly the way you wanted to at all times?

Course. I want to see if I can do it.

There was the period when you seemed to be using the mute quite a lot.

I use it if I want to play something, here and there. Not because some people said to me : "Miles, you sound good with a mute." I know it sounds good, else I wouldn't pick it up.

On a lot of the records that were very successful, tracks like "All Of You" and "Bye Bye Blackbird", when you played with the mute close to the mike, you had what came to be known as the Miles Davis sound.

I got it from Dizzy.

I don't remember hearing that sound from Dizzy.

Listen to `Ko Ko". But, you see, all my ideas of a tone come from listening to trumpet players who play round—with no tag on the end of the tone. I would never try and play like Harry James, because I don't like his tone—for me.

It's too sort of creamy, I suppose.

Miles Davis

September 1962

"I don't pay no attention to what critics say about me, the good or the bad. The toughest critic I got is myself...and I'm too vain to play anything I think is bad."

"In high school I was best in music class on the trumpet, but the prizes went to the boys with blue eyes. I made up my mind to outdo anybody white on my horn."

"I don't dig people in clubs who don't pay the musicians respect. You ever see anybody bugging the classical musicians when they are on the job and trying to work?"

The technical and emotional brilliance of the trumpet played by Miles Davis has made him one of the most provocative influences in modern jazz. We spent two days with Miles not long ago in his rather unusual five-story home, a converted Russian Orthodox Church on West 77th Street near the Hudson River in New York City. Miles was between gigs at the time and we accompanied him on his restless daily home routine, asking questions at propitious moments while he worked out in his basement gymnasium, made veal chops Italian style for his family, took telephone calls from fellow musicians, his lawyer and stockbroker, gave boxing lessons to his three sons, watched TV, plucked out beginner's chords on a guitar and, of course, blew one of his two Martin trumpets, running up and down the chromatic scale with searing speed. Spending time with Miles in the refuge of his own home, and seeing him surrounded by the activities and people he loves, it was hard to reconcile this reality with his sometimes flinty and truculent public posture. It was on this facet of his personality that we first queried him.

PLAYBOY: Linked with your musical renown is your reputation for bad temper and rudeness to your audiences. Would you comment?

DAVIS: Why is it that people just have to have so much to say about me? It bugs me because I'm not that important. Some critic that didn't have nothing else to do started this crap about I don't announce numbers, I don't look at the audience, I don't bow or talk to people, I walk off the stage, and all that.

Look, man, all I am is a trumpet player. I only can do one thing -- play my horn -- and that's what's at the bottom of the whole mess. I ain't no entertainer, and ain't trying to be one. I am one thing, a musician. Most of what's said about me is lies in the first place. Everything I do, I got a reason.

The reason I don't announce numbers is because it's not until the last instant I decide what's maybe the best thing to play next. Besides, if people don't recognize a number when we play it, what difference does it make?

Why I sometimes walk off the stand is because when it's somebody else's turn to solo, I ain't going to just stand up there and be detracting from him. What am I going to stand up there for? I ain't no model, and I don't sing or dance, and I damn sure ain't no Uncle Tom just to be up there grinning. Sometimes I go over by the piano or the drums and listen to what they're doing. But if I don't want to do that, I go in the wings and listen to the whole band until it's the next turn for my horn.

Then they claim I ignore the audience while I'm playing. Man, when I'm working, I know the people are out there. But when I'm playing, I'm worrying about making my horn sound right.

And they bitch that I won't talk to people when we go off after a set. That's a damn lie. I talk plenty of times if everything's going like it ought to and I feel right. But if I got my mind on something about my band or something else, well, hell, no, I don't want to talk. When I'm working I'm concentrating. I bet you if I was a doctor sewing on some son of a bitch's heart, they wouldn't want me to talk.

Anybody wants to believe all this crap they hear about me, it's their problem, not mine. Because, look, man, I like people. I love people! I'm not going around telling everybody that. I try to say that my way -- with my horn. Look, when I was a boy, 10 years old, I got a paper route and it got bigger than I could handle because my customers liked me so much. I just delivered papers the best I could and minded my business, the same way I play my horn now. But a lot of the people I meet now make me sick.

PLAYBOY: What types of people do you find especially irritating?

DAVIS : Well, these people that's always coming up bugging me until they get me to act like this crap they heard. They ask you things, you say what you think, and if it ain't what they want to hear, then something's wrong with you and they go away mad and think you don't like them. I bet I have had that happen 500 times. In this last club I played, this newspaper reporter kept after me when I told him I didn't have no more to say. He wasn't satisfied with that. After the next set, he come up again, either drunk or playing drunk, and shoved into me. I told him to get the hell out of my way, and then he was fine -- he went right out and wrote that. But he didn't tell how it happened.

And I'm mad every time I run into the Jim Crow scene, I don't care what form it takes. You can't hardly play anywhere you don't run into some of these cats full of prejudice. I don't know how many I've told, "Look, you want me to talk to you and you're prejudiced against me and all that. Why'n't you go on back where you're sitting and be prejudiced by yourself and leave me alone?" I have enough problems without trying to make them feel better. Then they go off and join the rest saying I'm such a big bastard.

I've got no plans of changing what I think. I don't dig people in clubs who don't pay the musicians respect. The average jazz musician today, if he's making it, is just as trained as classical musicians. You ever see anybody go up bugging the classical musicians when they are on the job and trying to work?

Even in jazz -- you look at the white bandleaders -- if they don't want anybody messing with them when they are working, you don't hear anybody squawking. It's just if a Negro is involved that there's something wrong with him. My troubles started when I learned to play the trumpet and hadn't learned to dance.

PLAYBOY: You feel that the complaints about you are because of your race?

DAVIS : I know damn well a lot of it is race. White people have certain things they expect from Negro musicians -- just like they've got labels for the whole Negro race. It goes clear back to the slavery days. That was when Uncle Tomming got started because white people demanded it. Every little black child grew up seeing that getting along with white people meant grinning and acting clowns. It helped white people to feel easy about what they had done, and were doing, to Negroes, and that's carried right on over to now. You bring it down to musicians, they want you to not only play your instrument, but to entertain them, too, with grinning and dancing.

PLAYBOY: Generally speaking, what are your feelings with regard to race?

DAVIS : I hate to talk about what I think of the mess because my friends are all colors. When I say that some of my best friends are white, I sure ain't lying. The only white people I don't like are the prejudiced white people. Those the shoe don't fit, well, they don't wear it. I don't like the white people that show me they can't understand that not just the Negroes, but the Chinese and Puerto Ricans and any other races that ain't white, should be given dignity and respect like everybody else.

But let me straighten you -- I ain't saying I think all Negroes are the salt of the earth. It's plenty of Negroes I can't stand, too. Especially those that act like they think white people want them to. They bug me worse than Uncle Toms.

But prejudiced white people can't see any of the other races as just individual people. If a white man robs a bank, it's just a man robbed a bank. But if a Negro or a Puerto Rican does it, it's them awful Negroes or Puerto Ricans. Hardly anybody not white hasn't suffered from some of white people's labels. It used to be said that all Negroes were shiftless and happy-go-lucky and lazy. But that's been proved a lie so much that now the label is that what Negroes want integration for is so they can sleep in the bed with white people. It's another damn lie. All Negroes want is to be free to do in this country just like anybody else. Prejudiced white people ask one another, "Would you want your sister to marry a Negro?" It's a jive question to ask in the first place -- as if white women stand around helpless if some Negro wants to drag one off to a preacher. It makes me sick to hear that. A Negro just might not want your sister. The Negro is always to blame if some white woman decides she wants him. But it's all right that ever since slavery, white men been having Negro women. Every Negro you see that ain't black, that's what's happened somewhere in his background. The slaves they brought here were all black.

What makes me mad about these labels for Negroes is that very few white people really know what Negroes really feel like. A lot of white people have never even been in the company of an intelligent Negro. But you can hardly meet a white person, especially a white man, that don't think he's qualified to tell you all about Negroes.

You know the story the minute you meet some white cat and he comes off with a big show that he's with you. It's 10,000 things you can talk about, but the only thing he can think of is some other Negro he's such close friends with. Intelligent Negroes are sick of hearing this. I don't know how many times different whites have started talking, telling me they was raised up with a Negro boy. But I ain't found one yet that knows whatever happened to that boy after they grew up.

PLAYBOY: Did you grow up with any white boys?

DAVIS : I didn't grow up with any, not as friends, to speak of. But I went to school with some. In high school, I was the best in the music class on the trumpet. I knew it and all the rest knew it -- but all the contest first prizes went to the boys with blue eyes. It made me so mad I made up my mind to outdo anybody white on my horn. If I hadn't met that prejudice, I probably wouldn't have had as much drive in my work. I have thought about that a lot. I have thought that prejudice and curiosity have been responsible for what I have done in music.

PLAYBOY: What was the role of the curiosity?

DAVIS : I mean I always had a curiosity about trying new things in music. A new sound, another way to do something -- things like that. But man, look, you know one of the biggest things that needs straightening up? The whole communication system of this country! Take the movies and TV. How many times do you see anybody in the films but white people? You don't dig? Look, the next movie or TV you see, you count how many Negroes or any other race but white that you see. But you walk around in any city, you see the other races -- I mean, in life they are part of the scene. But in the films supposed to represent this country, they ain't there. You won't hardly even see any in the street crowd scenes -- because the studios didn't bother to hire any as extras.

Negroes used to be servants and Uncle Toms in the movies. But so much stink was raised until they quit that. Now you do have some Negroes playing feature parts -- maybe four or five a year. Most of the time, they have a role that's special so it won't offend nobody -- then it's a big production made like that picture is going to prove our democracy. Look, I ain't saying that people making films are prejudiced. I can't say what I don't know. But I see the films they make, and I know they don't think about the trouble a lot of colored people find with the movies and TV.

A big TV network wanted to do a show featuring me. I said no, and they asked me to just look at a show featuring a big-name Negro singer. No, I ain't calling no names. Well, just like I knew, they had 18 girls dancing for the background -- and every one of them was white. Later on, when I pointed this out to the TV people, they were shocked. They said they just hadn't thought about that. I said I knew they hadn't. Nobody seems to think much about the colored people and the Chinese and Puerto Ricans and Japanese that watch TV and buy the things they advertise. All these races want to see some of their own people represented in the shows -- I mean, besides the big stars. I know I'd feel better to see some kids of all races dancing and acting on shows than I would feel about myself up there playing a horn. The only thing that makes me any different from them is I was lucky.

This black-white business is ticklish to try to explain. You don't want to see Negroes every time you click on your set. That would be just as bad as now when you don't see nobody but white people. But if movies and TV are supposed to reflect this country, and this country's supposed to be democratic, then why don't they do it? Let's see all kinds of people dancing and acting. I see all kinds of kids downtown at the schools of dancing and acting, but from what I see in the movies and TV, it's just the white ones that are getting any work.

Look, man, right in music you got the same thing happening. I got this album, "Someday My Prince Will Come," and you know who's on the jacket cover? My wife -- Frances. I just got to thinking that as many record albums as Negroes buy, I hadn't ever seen a Negro girl on a major album cover unless she was the artist. There wasn't any harm meant -- they just automatically thought about a white model and ordered one. It was my album and I'm Frances' prince, so I suggested they use her for a model, and they did it.

But it ain't all cases where white people just didn't think about the other races. It's a lot of intended discrimination, right in music. You got plenty of places that either won't hire Negroes, or they hire just one that they point out. The network studios, the Broadway pit bands, the classical orchestras, the film studios, they all have color discrimination in hiring.

I tell you why I feel so strong about the communication system. I never have forgotten one time in Europe this nice old man told me how in World War II, the Europeans didn't know what to make of Negro troops. They had their picture of this country from our magazines and movies, and with a very few exceptions like Pops Armstrong and Joe Louis and Jesse Owens, they didn't know about any Negroes except servants and laborers.

PLAYBOY: Do you feel that your views are shared by most Negroes? And Puerto Ricans? And Orientals?

DAVIS : I can't speak for them last two. I'm in no position, I just know what I personally feel for them. But I know that pretty nearly all Negroes hardly have any other choice about how they feel. They ain't blind. They got to see what's happening. It's a thousand big and little ways that you run into the prejudices of white people. Just one thing -- how long have Negroes been looking at immigrants coming into this country and can't even speak the language, and in the second generations, they are in places the Negroes haven't got to yet.

Look, not long ago this big magazine had this Southern truck driver saying he'd carry sandwiches if they let Negroes eat in them Maryland highway restaurants. But where he wants to eat ain't my point -- I'm talking about what he said. He said, "You give them a finger, they take an arm" and a lot more. You dig? When it comes to human rights, these prejudiced white people keep on acting like they own the damn franchise! And, man, with the world in the mess it's in now, we trying to influence on our side all them Africans and Arabs and Indians and Chinese...You know two thirds of the people in the world ain't white? They see all this crap with Negroes and supposed to feel white people really think any different about them? Man, somebody better get straight!

Another thing -- there was no upset about them restaurants not serving Negroes, until it was an African they turned away. You think every Negro in the country don't see what it says? It says that we been here 400 years, but it wasn't no mess until they put out an African that just flew over here on a jet.

PLAYBOY: Do you, in your position as a famous Negro, meet prejudice?

DAVIS : I told you, someway or other, every Negro meets it, I don't care who he is! Look, man, I sent for an electrician to fix something in the house. When he rang the bell, I answered and he looked at me like I was dirt, and said, "I want to see the owner, Mr. Davis." When I said, "You looking at him," the cat turned beet red. He had me figured as the porter. Now he's mad and embarrassed. What had I done to him but called to give him work?

That same week, I had seen a lot of them West Point cadets, and in a bar I asked why there was so many of them in town. Man, I just asked the cat a question and he moved up the bar and didn't speak! But then somebody recognized me and he got red as that electrician. He came trying to apologize and saying he had my records. I told him I had just paid enough taxes to cover his free ride at West Point, and I walked out. I guess he's somewhere now with the others saying I'm such a bastard. It bugged me so, man, I wasn't worth a damn for two or three days. It wasn't just him ignoring me I was thinking about, but in two or three years, Gregory, my oldest boy, may be doing some Army time. How am I supposed to feel about him maybe serving under this cat?

Then take this tour I made -- Frances and I had train reservations to California. But this clerk I showed my identification to, he took it and looked at me just like the West Point cat. When he said he had to check with somebody else, I asked him what was the trouble. You know he had the nerve to tell me I might have forged it! Ain't no need of me telling you what I told him, nobody would print it. But we went to the airport and took a plane. I'm spending my money, the railroads are broke, even this son of a bitch's job's in trouble, but all he can see is I'm black, so it's all right to insult me. Bad as I hate to fly, I ain't been on a train since, because I haven't met Jim Crow on the airlines.

PLAYBOY: In your field, music, don't some Negro jazzmen discriminate against white musicians?

DAVIS : Crow Jim is what they call that. Yeah. It's a lot of the Negro musicians mad because most of the best-paying jobs go to the white musicians playing what the Negroes created. But I don't go for this, because I think prejudice one way is just as bad as the other way. I wouldn't have no other arranger but Gil Evans -- we couldn't be much closer if he was my brother. And I remember one time when I hired Lee Konitz, some colored cats bitched a lot about me hiring an ofay in my band when Negroes didn't have work. I said if a cat could play like Lee, I would hire him, I didn't give a damn if he was green and had red breath.

PLAYBOY: Do you find that being the head of your band adds to your problems?

DAVIS : Fronting a band ain't no fun. A lot of people don't understand that music is business, it's hard work and a big responsibility. I hate to even think what all I've been through to play my horn, and still go through. I put everything I've got into it. Even after a good rehearsal, I feel empty. And you add to playing your instrument the running of a band and you got plenty of problems. I got my own family, and the guys that work for me, and their families to think about. On one tour, I had this white woman in Kansas City meet me when I came off the stand and wanted me to come to her table with her and her husband for a drink. I told her I didn't like to do that, and she hollered, "They said you're like that!" I felt like throwing down my horn and kicking it. But I said to myself I was going to try and educate at least that one couple. So I went over and talked to them.

I told them an artist's first responsibility was to himself. I said if he kept getting upset with what other people think he ought to do, he never would get too far, or he sure wouldn't last. I tried to make them see how I had worked all my life to play myself and then to get a band worth people paying to hear. I said that a lot of times when people in a club wanted to talk to me, I needed to be worrying about something about my band. They said they understood. I hope they did.

PLAYBOY: You have been quoted as not being in favor of jazz concerts. Why?

DAVIS : Nobody can relax at concerts, the musicians or the people, either. You can't do nothing but sit down, you can't move around, you can't have a drink. A musician has to be able to let loose everything in him to reach the people. If the musician can't relax, how's he going to make the people feel what he feels? The whole scene of jazz is feeling.

PLAYBOY: Do you now ever indulge in jam sessions?

DAVIS : I wish there was some jam sessions to sit in. But there ain't none left -- at least not in the big cities. I used to sit in some great ones around St. Louis and in Brooklyn, Illinois. We would blow sometimes clear up until the next afternoon. When I go back there now, I sit in with a little blues band. They have the feeling.

PLAYBOY: You've won all the trumpet polls. After yourself, how would you rank others?

DAVIS: After me! Hell, it's plenty great trumpet players don't come after me, or after nobody else! That's what I hate so about critics -- how they are always comparing artists...always writing that one's better than another one. Ten men can have spent all their lives learning technical expertness on their instruments, but just like in any art, one will play one style and the rest nine other ways. And if some critics just don't happen to like a man's style, they will knock the artist. That bugs the hell out of musicians. It's made some damn near mad enough to want to hang up their horns.

Trumpet players, like anybody else, are individualized by their different ideas and styles. The thing to judge in any jazz artist is does the man project, and does he have ideas. You take Dizzy -- he does, all the time, every time he picks up his horn. Some more cats -- Clark Terry, Ray Nance, Kenny Dorham, Roy Eldridge, Harold Baker, Freddie Hubbard, Lee Morgan, Bobby Hackett -- a lot of them. Hell, that cat down in New Orleans, Al Hirt, he blows his ass off, too!

PLAYBOY: Is there any special reason you didn't mention Louis Armstrong?

DAVIS : Oh, Pops? No, why I didn't mention him is because I was talking just about modern-jazz players. I love Pops, I love the way he sings, the way he plays -- everything he does, except when he says something against modern-jazz music. He ought to realize that he was a pioneer, too. No, he wasn't an influence of mine, and I've had very little direct contact with Pops. A long time ago, I was at Bop City, and he came in and told me he liked my playing. I don't know if he would even remember it, but I remember how good I felt to have him say it. People really dig Pops like I do myself. He does a good job overseas with his personality. But they ought to send him down South for goodwill. They need goodwill worse in Georgia and Alabama and Mississippi than they do in Europe.

PLAYBOY: To go back a moment, you expressed a sharp dislike of critics. Are there other reasons besides their comparing musicians?

DAVIS : Well, aside from that, I get sick of how a lot of them write whole columns and pages of big words and still ain't saying nothing. If you have spent your life getting to know your business and the other cats in it, and what they are doing, then you know if a critic knows what he's talking about. Most of the time they don't.

I don't pay no attention to what critics say about me, the good or the bad. The toughest critic I got, and the only one I worry about, is myself. My music has got to get past me and I'm too vain to play anything I think is bad.

No, I ain't going to name critics I don't like. But I will tell you some that I respect what they write -- Nat Hentoff, Ralph Gleason and Leonard Feather. And some others, I can't right off think of their names. But it ain't a long list.

PLAYBOY: Are there any particular places or clubs that you don't like to play?

DAVIS : There are plenty I won't play! I won't take a booking nowhere in the South. I told you I just can't stand Jim Crow, so I ain't going down there in it. There's enough of it here in the North, but at least you have the support of some laws.

I won't play nowhere I know has the kind of audiences that you waste your breath to play for. I'm talking about them expense-account ofays that use music as a background for getting high and trying to show off to the women they brought. They ain't come to hear good music. They don't even know how to enjoy themselves. They drink too much, they get loud, they got to be seen and heard. They'll jump up and dance jigs and sing. They ain't got no manners -- don't pay their women no respect. What they really want is some Uncle Tom entertainment if it's a Negro group on the stand. These are the kind will holler, "Hey, boy, play "Sweet Georgia Brown!" You supposed to grin and play that. I hate to play in a place full of those kind of squares so bad that if there wasn't nobody else to play to, I'd invest in some more property and just stay home and collect rents. I can't stand dumb-ass people not respecting the other customers that have come to hear the music. Sometimes one table like that has bugged me so that when I get home or to my hotel, I walk the floor because I can't sleep.

I told you I ain't going to play nowhere in the South that Negroes can't come. But I ain't going to play nowhere in the North that Negroes don't come. It's one of two reasons they won't, either because they know they ain't wanted, or because they don't like the joint's regular run of music. Negroes ain't got as much money to throw away in night clubs as white people. So a club that Negroes patronize, you can figure that everybody that goes there comes expecting to hear good music.

Part 2: Composer James Mtume Destroys Jazz Critic Stanley Crouch in a De...

Composer James Mtume Destroys Jazz Critic Stanley Crouch in a Debate abo...

Dear departed friend

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:-Knowing when to come in out of the rain; - Why the early bird gets the worm;- Life isn't always fair; - And maybe it was my fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies, don't spend more than you can earn and adults, not children, are in charge. His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault. Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife Discretion, his daughter Responsibility, and his son, Reason. He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers; I Know My Rights,I Want It Now,Someone Else Is To Blame,I'm A Victim.Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, do nothing

Keith Jarrett on Wynton Marsalis

Excerpted from an article by Andrew Solomon in the New York Times Magazine, Feb. 9, 1997 "It's totally unrealistic to think that you're going to be a great player just because you know how to play fast or you know how to play 5,000 styles," he says. "I read reviews of new players who can sit in with anybody or play with five different types of band in five nights - and everybody talks about this like it's a positive thing. If you get an audience and you get gigs and you have a name before you have anything to say, it actually wipes out the possibility of saying something later on. The people who would produce valuable things are waylaid too soon. The bigger the media, the worse it is for the artist. I'm not even sure I should use the word artist. There are some ages, I think, that don't deserve art as much as others. I almost think we live in a time now when that is true."

He begins to sound like some latter-day Rousseau mourning the demise of the noble savage. "The old days of jazz were much healthier for the music itself," he says. "I think there's a horrible thing going on now, where young players haven't been told by the right people that there's more to it than marketing themselves. They expend all the energy they should be using to find their voice, or work on their voice, or listen to themselves play. They've got to resist this stuff. I was called by Columbia at one point when I was with this little ECM record label, and they offered me a giant advance. I said no. It's not just what's getting exposed, but who you're exposing it to it.

Jarrett saves his most pointed attacks on the current jazz establishment for Marsalis. "Wynton imitates other people's styles too well," he says. "You can't learn to imitate everyone else without a real deficit. I've never heard anything Wynton played sound like it meant anything at all. Wynton has no voice and no presence. His music sounds like a talented high-school trumpet player to me. He plays things really, really,really badly that you cannot screw up unless you are a bad player. I've felt embarrassed listening to him, and I'm white. Behind his humble speech, there is an incredible arrogance. And for a great black player who talks about the blues - I've never heard Wynton play the blues convincingly, and I'd challenge him to a blues standoff any time. He's jazzy the same way someone who drives a BMW is sporty."

Pat Metheny on Kenny G

The Harlem Renaissance: The Rise of African American Literature, Art, a...

Step Forward Youth

Straight No Chaser’s Paul Bradshaw reflects on the art of buying reggae music. A back in the day journey from Dalston Junction to Tottenham High Road.

It was around 1973, while living in the leafy, conservative backwater of Cheltenham, that I got bitten by the reggae bug and got my first taste of buying reggae music. Based on the ground breaking writings of Carl Gayle/Jah Ugliman in Black Music magazine I headed off to the Gloucester, the nearest city with a Jamaican community, in search of the ‘Version Galore’ albums which united the lyrical talents of “toasters” like U Roy, I Roy, Big Youth and Dennis Alcapone. In a humble reggae emporium in Barton Street I found what I was looking for but as I gazed upon the selection available I realized I was totally out of my depth. Not only that, I was also oblivious to the fact that a certain etiquette of buying prevailed in such establishments.

The early Seventies was responsible for a wave of astonishing soul and jazz albums from Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield, Donny Hathaway, Stevie Wonder, Parliament, Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, Pharoah Sanders and Alice Coltrane and despite their considerable impact on my musical outlook reggae had become an obsession. A visit to a blues dance run by a local sound man called Skinny and an encounter with the mighty Sir Coxsone Sound system at the Jamaican Club in Gloucester had ensured a point of no return.  The impact of hearing the music on “Sound” took on a metaphysical dimension. Words, Sound and Power. The mysterious, apocalyptic vision of Jamaica’s sufferers – the Mystic Revelation Of Rastafari, The Wailers, Big Youth, Yabby You, Gladiators, King Tubby, Gregory Isaacs, Augustus Pablo - was what dominated my hi-fi.

I graduated to the metropolis in the autumn of ’74 and settled in E8, between Mare Street and Dalston Junction. I had arrived in reggae music heaven and driven by this mighty music I’d regularly roam the High Road from the Junction to Seven Sisters in search of new acquisitions. I would begin my journey in Dalston Lane at Java. A stones throw away from the legendary Four Aces night club. Freshly opened, this most alluring little “record shack” was run by drummer Jah Bunny, bassist Floyd Lawson and a most stylish and knowledgeable youth called Lenny. The style and pattern of the day was most enticing – the unbuckled woven ites gold and green belt and the Gabichi were vital, as was that rakishly offset Baker’s boy – and the attempts of this grey boy to look relaxed and “down” in this 100% black environment earned me the tag of “screwface”. That said, Java and its successor, M&D Records, which was run by Lee Hall – a selectah and salesman par excellence - became my second home. It was there that I gained a serious education into this music and learned to peel an orange with a ratchet knife.

Initially, I was out to buy what I’d read about. Up to that point I’d failed to grasp that reggae was essentially a singles market. I hadn’t a clue what a “Pre” was – I’d simply heard that some shops kept a selection of exclusives under the counter for their regulars. So, the mission was usually specific and mostly album orientated and that would sometimes take me beyond Java to other local shops which had their own imprint or reputed speciality.

 Music City in Ridley Road market was always an enticing prospect on a Saturday. If I recall, the shop had direct links to the prolific Trojan Records. It was the covers of brilliant albums like Dennis Brown’s ‘Just Dennis’, Big Youth’s ‘Screaming Target’ or Ras Michael’s ‘Nyabinghi’ that hung in the shop window and the speakers outside the shop projected a little burst of Al Brown doing Al Green or Ken Boothe previewing what was to become a Chart topper or a touch of “skenga” - a scattering of ‘Irie Feeling’ from Rupie Edward’s Cactus label.. The sounds of young Jamaica rose above the vibrant hustle and bustle of black and white working class shoppers and the cockney mantras of the various vendors. Sadly, during the Seventies, this grainy, positively harmonious black and white image of east London was consistently tainted by a racist undercurrent based on the popularity of the National Front.

Having partaken of a pattie or a begel one would trod from Ridley Road further up the High Road. In the region of Arcola Street, one might be tempted to deviate slightly from the mission and check a mom and pop record store owned by some local white folks who stocked the Top 20 hits of the day along with a positively arresting selection of Nigerian ju ju from the likes of Sir Shina Adewale and King Sunny Ade.

A DREAD TALE: BY PENNY REEL

One night I am standing outside the Jamaican pattie shop in Portobello Road partaking of the same when a car pulls up on the street and from it emerge certain characters from Kilburn by the name of Militant Barrington, Tapper Zukie and Jah Lacey, which is by no means an unusual combination to see, as these are very intimate idren and frequently keep each other's company, except that now there is a fourth person with them in the rear approach, one known as King Saul.

Now if I know in advance that this King Saul is stepping in my direction I will not even be there at all, for King Saul is a guy I do not require to share an intimate relationship with whatever. Furthermore, nobody else in this town requires the immediate co-existence of King Saul, except sometimes in the capacity of bailiff or bodyguard, as he is known locally and far and wide by one and all as an extremely callous integrity indeed.

Many citizens express wonder that King Saul is not a deh in boneyard already, alongside such infamous Back O'Wall rude bwoys as Two Gun Keith, Ryging, Lance Scott, Woppi King and Bur O Boy, as he is generally implicated as being no backward participant in the Western Kingston war effort - let me tell you say! - and is known often to hold a gun on his person, which he will sometimes produce to shoot at people if, for instance, he does not like the political party they favour.

The word is King Saul shoots many an innocent victim back in Jamaica, as well as others not so innocent, and it is not unknown for him to practice his skill with a ratchet in this man's town either, and the reasons he is usually to be found around artists of musical disposition is that some of the individuals in this field are as notorious wongdoers as himself, and besides, King Saul allows it to be understood that he finds the escort of creative persons like Militant Barrington and Tapper Zukie and Jah Lacey a very agreeable and glamorous pursuit.

Well here am I disposing of a Jamaican pattie and debating whether or not I can cross the street and vanish into Tavistock Road before I am spotted when I hear a large "Wha' 'appen Jah Reel!" and suddenly Militant Barry is striding over to me and pumping my right hand down and up in greeting.

"Irie" I reply, very tasteful, "The man cool?"

We stand there exchanging responses for a few moments, where I learn that the parties are out in search of food prior to negotiation of a Fat Man Hi Fi session at Phebes, but decline the patties upon discovering that these are filled with meat. Tapper Zukie speaks for all with his declaration that he does not nyam deaders and describes a supermarket in Queensway from where ital vegetable samosas are obtainable and to which he proposes we proceed, myself included. It is also arranged that I am accompanying the said quartet to Phebes later on, in order to pay my respects to Keith Hudson who is just arrived in town from JA and scheduled to be in attendance at the venue with a selection of his new music.

Now of course, I do not desire to go to Stoke Newington's Phebes Club, even to pay my respects to Keith Hudson. More pertinently, if I do desire to go to Phebes I do not necessarily desire to go with Militant Barrington and Tapper Zukie and Jah Lacey and King Saul, particularly King Saul, as it is written: blessed is the man that walketh not in the council of the ungodly, and anyway, a guy is sometimes judged by the people he is seen moving with, especially around sound systems, and King Saul is likely to be considered careless company. But since my fellow travellers are of sensitive temperament and may easily form the impression I am putting the old birds eye on their unquestionably generous invitation and take offence, I profer not argument nor resistance as I am squeezed into the back seat of Militant Barrington's car and we head off.

Now this Phebe's Club is a large, ungainly foundation, some three stories high, that complies in every respect with the provisions of the Town and Country Planning Act 1962 and all regulations or orders made thereunder. It boasts a somewhat uncertain patronage - on many occasions the place is funerally empty, with less than a score of citizens swelling its interior; at other times, particularly when a name act or top sound is billed, the house gets so ram up that ordinary breathing becomes an extraordinary feat. On this night of which I am speaking, Phebes is doing very brisk trade indeed. Fat Man controls a vast youth following in this part of town, where he is hailed the most celebrated Tottenham talent since Mr James Greaves. In the upstairs lounge his No 2 set is regaling its crowd with more cut variations on the currently popular "Get In The Groove" rhythm, like Gregory Isaac's "Slave Master" and Big Joe's "Natty Dread A The Curnal", as well as other commercial and lovers rock pliants, such as customs approval with the close moving couples that inhabit the dance floor.

Downstairs in the basement the No 1 sound, as toasted by A Roy the Humble Lion, is mixing up the medicine in most Phensical dispensation and bawling a woah fe poor Ramses. It is a very large room and full of smoke, with a small stage at one end and the sound system perched on the edge of this stage, and around the sound, and in a frenzied display of natty locks, is the entire population of North London's roots and culture brethren, as well as a great number of transportine dreads from Brix and Lewisham, and various militants in the army of Ras Tafari. They include personalities such as Pepe Judah, Festus, Coxsone, Moa Ambassa, Sir Fray, Jah Superior, International King, Bro P, Scorcher and Moody Judah, plus a proportion of characters of musical calibre like Errol Dunkley the Man, Gene Rondo, Ason Gayle, Ras Elroy, Byron Otis and Kelso Christian, and these are wedged up against a mesh of samfie men and soul vendors and other stepping razors such as Bootleg Sammy, Pretty Bwoy Patrick, Keen Kenny, Freddy the Cat, Screwface, Oliver and many other high shots. They are all compressed together and intent on this single figure cavorting stage centre, twixt A Roy and Fat Man himself, the man from Shooter's Hill, Mr Keith Hudson.

Now the object of this collective curiosity, nay homage, is a hatless individual with shoulder length locks and hirsuite chops described in an immaculate three-piece suit of delicate pastel, Mafiatone style, the inevitable red, gold and green belt casually dangling around his waist, beringed fingers, and wide-soled dub shoes protruding from the helm of his bandalou-cut strides and with, on closer acknowledgement, a variety of mutable expressions gleaming from his proud, sometimes red eyes.

Well, as I say, Phebes is well ram up on this particular occasion when I walk into the room with Militant Barrington and Tapper Zukie and Jah Lacey and King Saul. King Saul lets loose a hearty wha' 'appen as we enter, and the dreads all look around, and the next moment there is space cleared alongside Fat Man and company not only for King Saul but for Militant Barrington, Tapper Zukie, Jah Lacey and me, too. it is really quite uncanny the way there is suddenly room for the five of us when there is no room whatever when we come in.

All the while Hudson is selecting from his assortment of slate - and to which A Roy prefaces each choice with a "Humble Lion" refrain - the man from Shooter's Hill is dramatising the fruits of his genius in gymnastic exposition. Breathing ital earthhquake, fire and brimstone from his nostrils and clenching his fist skywards in defiance of oppressors, the elegantly attired dread steps and struts before the acolyte fraternity like the proverbial best dressed chicken in Phebes, declaiming the wicked.

This continues for a number of hours until around 6.00 am the patron of the establishment, a large guy by the name of Big Lance, squeezes his way through to the sound and announces that he is compelled to close the club at this time as Babylon deh pon street and would the idren please leave in peace and love and remember, each and every night all roads lead to Phebes, in tune to entertaining sounds from this sound, Sir Fray sound, Jah Shaka sound, One aim One God One destiny.

As we file into the bitter dawn Hudson stops me in the corridor and offers his own explanation of the Vernon's Yard affair (in reference to the eight LP deal with Virgin Records which commenced in 1976 with 'Too Expensive'). "They tried to make a Bob Marley out of me," he harangues, "But Bob Marley is not me and I am not Bob. Bob Marley is my elder brother, he is a Reuben and I am a Joseph so Bob mus' come first. It is written I am given to go forward in my own way, not as Bob Marley but as Keith Hudson."

Penny Reel, New Musical Express 14/10/78