Compelling Interest

What's In A Name?

First of all, what is this "jazz" of which I speak?

Well, I might best be able to answer that question by telling you what it isn't.

Jazz is not what they are playing on WNUA in Chicago. They used to call it New Age music (hence the call letters); now they call it "smooth jazz." Nuh-uh. It's fusion, or what started out as "jazz fusion" in the late 60's/early 70's. It was jazz harmony and jazz improvisation over a rock beat - a fusion of jazz and rock.

Jazz is its own language, with its own harmonies and its own beat. It was born into the world in the early part of the last century, itself a fusion of marches, ragtime, African rhythms, and the vocalizing of slaves. Like it or not, it was born with a swing beat, and the people of the time heard it and they labeled it: they called it jazz. Take away the swing beat, or the tight, colorful harmonies, or the extensive use of improvisation, and it becomes something else. Then it is up to us to figure out what to call it. Just stop calling it jazz. Call it New Age, call it fusion, call it world music - just don't call it jazz.

Music is a language. They call it a universal language, and it is in the sense that it is everywhere. But there are different "tongues" within the broader language called Music. Every country on earth has its own music which is unique to that country. And within a country's music are (or can be) different genres of music. Again, like it or not, different genres of music have been given labels. Here in America, we can hear a piece of music and recognize it as being classical music, rock, jazz, hip-hop, folk, country, bluegrass, or even "smooth jazz." Music, like any true language, is labeled or categorized according to how it sounds. [Note: If someone out there comes up with a new musical style, please don't call it "jazz." It's already been taken.]

Ever notice how music stores are organized? Would you expect to find Kenny G in the same section that you would find Boston? Or in the same section that you would find Eminem, or Beethoven? No. Why? Because he is not speaking their language. Beethoven shares a section in the music store with Mozart, Bizet, and Rachmaninoff. Eminem and Boston share their sections with artists who use the same musical language they are using.

So, someone explain to me why Kenny G shares a section in the music store with Count Basie, Louis Armstrong, and Benny Goodman. Are they really playing the same kind of music? Basie, Armstrong, and Goodman are playing jazz. Kenny isn't.

Categorizing music is like categorizing any language: its purpose is to avoid confusion. There are artists who make a big deal out of not being categorized. This is usually done out of pride, as their music is usually rooted in a definitive style. Put it this way: if their music was so totally unique, no one would be trying to fit it into a category in the first place. They couldn't. They'd start making up names for it, like "jazz."

So, when I am talking jazz, I am talking about that swingin' music made famous by Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, and others like them. Not fusion, not "smooth jazz" or New Age. I'm talking about the real thing.

Actually, I won't be saying much about jazz as I have "labeled" it here. I will be talking more about issues that have hurt jazz and its standing in American pop culture, things that have relegated it to the sidelines and have made "America's music" not much more than a cultural novelty, being kept alive by Ken Burns and the Smithsonian Institute.

Kiss Your Audience Goodbye

Jazz was King pretty much from the 1920's to the early 1950's in America. It became "America's music." It was big; it was everywhere; it was popular. People danced to it and screamed in abandon at the close of the big, exciting numbers.

In the 1940's, some of the jazz musicians (most notably Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie) began expanding the colors of the musical pallette, experimenting with new harmonic and melodic possibilities in their improvisations. The style was known as "bebop." Jazz was becoming more subtle and sophisticated. The main audience for jazz didn't seem to mind (or notice), as long as it had that beat!

By the time the 1950's came around, many of the top jazz musicians had stopped playing for dancers and were cultivating a listening audience. As a result, some strains of jazz were becoming more complex. Musicians were playing more and more for each other rather than the general jazz lover. The art form was becoming introverted. Well, you know what it's like to talk to people who only talk about themselves. Before long, you've tuned them out.

Is it any surprise then that music lovers latched on to Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley when they hit the scene in the 50's? Did you ever notice that early rock'n'roll was played with a hardcore swing beat just like the popular music of the 30's and 40's? Ever notice that the wild, throw-your-partner-over-your-shoulders dancing they were doing to "Rock Around the Clock" is the same dancing they were doing to "Bugle Call Rag"?

I know jazz musicians who are still bitter over the rise of rock music in the 50's. I was one of those musicians until I caught the connection just described above. The truth is, people didn't leave jazz - "sophisticated" jazz musicians took it away from them. Jazz musicians started playing over the heads of their audience; they decided their music should be more about education than entertainment. Classical music began the same journey in the early 20th century, and we all know how that turned out.

So, I'm not bitter anymore now that I have this understanding. I hosted a one-hour jazz show a few years ago on WLUW, the radio station for Loyola University Chicago. The program was called "Swing That Music," and I strung together an hour of great jazz for Mondays at 10:00 in the morning (when all the students were in class, of course). I devoted one whole show to Bill Haley and His Comets, because those boys were swinging that music!

Rock'n'roll never set out to overtake and destroy jazz; it was never meant to be a competition. Rock musicians found an audience that had been left out to dry, and Chuck, Elvis, and Bill played to them. Meanwhile, jazz in the 50's and 60's included the hardcore beboppers, modern jazz, free jazz, and acid jazz, and jazz musicians were scratching their heads wondering why the masses were flocking to artists who actually entertained them, instead of watching some stoned saxophone player perform his acts of self-indulgent musical masturbation, heedless of anyone in the room but himself, his horn, and his 20-minute solos.

Well, America was listening, and they voted. Elvis won.

Why Are Jazz Musicians So Insecure?

I have been puzzling over this question now for years.

I was becoming aware of popular music at the age of four and five, right about the time that Miles Davis was envying Sly and the Family Stone in 1969. The age of Jazz Fusion was beginning.

The thinking seemed to be this: rock music is extremely popular - jazz isn't anymore. Maybe if we play our jazz to a rock beat, we will be popular again.

To a great extent, it worked. Who didn't like Maynard Ferguson's version of Birdland; Chuck Mangione's Feels So Good; Bob James' theme from the TV hit Taxi? Remember Spyro Gyra? Weather Report? There was some good music there. And they called it what it was - fusion.

The problem this created was the expectation among jazz musicians that they "should be able to play it all."

Jazz musician: "Rock? That's easy! I can play rock. It's so simple compared to jazz." Jazz musicians were suddenly on a mission in which they felt compelled to prove to everyone that they can play more than "just jazz"; they can play rock music, too. Is anybody listening?

Thus, Ella Fitzgerald records a disco flavored album which I have dubbed, "Ella Lays an Egg." Ray Brown gets into the act on his album Brown's Bag. Rock out, Ray, because you can! In more modern times, Harry Connick, Jr., a musician who became a world-reknowned celebrity as a jazz pianist, vocalist, and band leader, comes out with his funk album in the 90's, just in case anyone thought he only played jazz.

I am not saying that musicians should not be free to play and explore musical styles other than what they are known for. I love whipping out my electric bass and rocking out when I get the chance - it's a blast!

The issue I am trying to examine is this: why did Ella, Ray, Harry, and so many other jazzers feel the need to come out with music that is rock or pop based, and yet Tupak, Nirvana, The Beach Boys, Arrowsmith, The Jacksons, Dolly Parton, and Glen Campbell, for all their popularity, never bothered to come out with jazz albums? Why did they never feel compelled to show off their jazz chops? Why have they never felt the need to prove they can play more than "just pop" music? Why is it that only the jazz musicians have something to prove? Why is it that only they must be able to play more than "just jazz"?

I was once playing bass at a jazz gig for some big reception. In a moment of reverse culture shock, I watched a very eldery man walk up to the bandstand and ask, in a very preturbed manner: "Don't you guys play anything that was written in the 90's?" I mean, this guy was actually angry. I was stunned, not by the question, but by the age of the person who asked it. You see, long ago I had become accustomed to people (more my age) who wanted to hear "Celebration" right after our rendition of "Fly Me To the Moon." I guess a tuxedo-clad quartet comprised of piano, string bass, drums, and sax just screams "Top 40," regardless of your age.

There's something very wrong with that, and I say that because of this: imagine the response you would get if you walked up to a rock band and requested any tune out of the Cole Porter songbook; or if you asked a country band to play "In the Mood"; or if you asked a polka band for "The Count Steps In"; or a latin band for "Cherokee"; or a rap group for "Stella By Starlight." And not played in their style, but played as a jazz tune. If they didn't just laugh at you and send you on your way, they would probably tell you in no uncertain terms that they don't play that kind of music, they only play country, or rock, or bluegrass, or Viennese waltzes, or blues, and by the way, are you some kind of retard?

I went to First Night Evanston a few years ago for New Years, and the Orrington Hotel was featuring some up-and-coming jazz trumpeter. It was the So-and-So (I can't remember his name) Jazz Quintet. "Jazz Quintet," mind you. I listened to them for over half an hour, and in that whole time all they played was rock, funk, and Motown. The musicians and the audience seemed to think that this was perfectly normal for a jazz quintet. I so wanted to pipe up: "Do you guys play any jazz?" Instead, I just left. If the trumpet player had billed himself as the So-and-So Quintet, that would have made more sense. But why put the term "jazz" in the name of your band and not play any? That's as absurd as calling yourself a reggae band and not playing reggae. Have you ever gone to hear a salsa band, and they played everything but salsa?

Yes, the word is "absurd." It is absurd that these so-called jazz musicians were considered "cool" because they were playing funk and Motown. It is absurd that they would actually be considered less than hip, even square, if they played jazz, and only jazz, all night long. But bands that are identified with any other genre are only expected to play music of that genre all the time. And if those bands stray from their main style, if a known country band decides to play rock and Motown all night, you better put up the chicken wire. It is not considered cool; it's foolish. You know what it is? It's false advertising.

Why can't jazz musicians stand up and say, "We're a jazz band; we only play jazz."? When will they be proud again that they "just play jazz," instead of feeling somehow inadequate for not playing anything and everything? Isn't jazz enough? Why are they the only ones among the great brotherhood of musicians who think they are somehow obliged to pander to every taste in the room? Can they ever get through an evening without playing "Mercy, Mercy, Mercy," or "You Are the Sunshine of My Life"? As if they must justify all the jazz they've been playing by throwing in a pop tune once in awhile. "Gotta mix it up, or people will get bored." Is that how it works at a rock or bluegrass gig? Is that why they intersperse their stuff with the occasional Sousa march, the latest rap, or some Dean Martin? How come every audience but the jazz audience can stand to hear the same style of music all night long? Where is it written that the jazz audience will get bored after hearing three jazz tunes in a row? That is some seriously psychotic thinking.

"The word is: insecure."

"Insecure. J-a-z-z m-u-s-i-c-i-a-n. Insecure."

"That is correct."

If you call yourself a jazz musician, you have only one thing to prove: that you're a jazz musician. There now, doesn't that simplify things?

You Have to Go? But You Just Got Here!

Is it just me, or does it seem like Swing was popular a couple years ago, and then again a few years before that, and then again a few years before that, etc., etc., etc.?

Ever wonder why it never sticks around? We know why it comes back, because it's awesome. But why does it always fade away?

I know why. It's the costumes. Next time Swing comes back, notice what the Swing bands are wearing, as well as many of the dancers out on the floor. They are more often than not in period, or vintage, clothing. It's just part of the package, and even part of the fun.

The problem is the subliminal message that this sends to everyone in the room: This music is from the past; it is not for today; it's just visiting, like an out of town relative.

Our society basically supports one Costume Ball a year - it's called "the Halloween Party." It's a big deal, and many people put a lot of thought, time, and effort into dressing up for the occasion. But it does take a lot of effort. Our society also supports dance clubs year round; some are open every night of the week. Now, imagine if every time you wanted to go to your favorite club, you had to wear some sort of costume, some sort of vintage or period clothing, or whatever. You could just show up in your normal, modern, "out on the town" clothing, but you would feel a little less hip, a little less "in."

Now, if you had the costume-type outfits, how many of them would you have? Closets and drawers full? Or just one, or a couple, or maybe four? Either way, whether you show up in costume or not, eventually you will tire of either not being the coolest and hippest, or you will tire of having to manage your specialized wardrobe. And this will make you think twice before you go out.

Certainly, we recognize "dressing for the occasion." If you go to hear the symphony one night, and out to a cafe another night, and out to a dance club another, you will probably have worn three different styles of clothing for each venue. You dress for the occasion. But in any case, you are choosing from a wardrobe stocked with modern dress. This makes it easy to choose what to wear, and makes it easy to replace items as desired - you just choose what looks good right now.

Costumes, or vintage clothing, are a whole different story. They create a whole new set of concerns. And depending on the status of your particular vintage wardrobe, they can take away some of the spontaneity of going out for a good time.

What if audiences were expected to show up at Symphony Center in period dress for a Beethoven concert? And then, at intermission, everyone had to change clothes for the Tchaikovsky in the second half of the program? What would that do to the audience, except shrink it? Notice that the orchestra is decked out in tuxes and black dresses, regardless of the program. What this says is that "this music is relevant for today, and you're welcome to attend with nothing more than a nice suit or dress, or even nice casual!" No big deal. The music may be 300 years old, but that's not the point. The point is the music.

The advocates of Swing (musicians and audiences alike) always tend to bring it back with the wrong focus. It's always about the Zoot Suits, the big city "attitude" of 30's and 40's New York or Chicago, the hairstyles and makeup, the cool cat lingo, the era. Before long, these things grow tiresome - they get old. When people go out, they just want to have a good time. Trying to recreate a bygone era might be fun for awhile, but it takes a lot of effort. We can sustain the effort for only so long before we want to go do something that's much simpler. It's human nature.

So, advocates of Swing (and I know you're out there), do yourselves a favor. The next time Swing starts coming back into vogue, make a commitment to the MUSIC, not the ERA from which it came. The bands and everyone on the dance floor should be in contemporary clothes with contemporary hairstyles, makeup, lingo, and attitudes. Tell the music that it isn't going anywhere; it's no longer stuck in a time warp; it doesn't have to leave and go back to its "proper" place. Its proper place is here and now, forever. Just like Beethoven, just like the Beatles, just like Sinatra and Aretha Franklin.

So, let's get hip to this, cats. Otherwise, Swing is destined to remain only a fad that comes and goes; a novelty; a sideshow that arrives and leaves with the circus. I think Goodman, Ellington, Miller, Fletcher Henderson, the Dorseys, and all the other great swingers deserve a much better legacy than that.

While On the Gig

I spent almost twenty years gigging around the Chicagoland area on my bass - mostly with jazz trios and quartets, but also with a couple of Big Bands, some jobbing bands, etc. The combination of getting divorced and joining the Navy Reserve ended up leaving me with only one weekend a month for gigs, and when I had to start saying "no" to 90% of the gigs coming my way, well...eventually they just stop calling. So, in the last four years I've played about nine gigs.

But when you step out of a situation and reflect on it you are often able to gain some insights that you didn't have before. I have identified certain trends that are common to almost every jazz gig I've ever played, mostly with the trios and quartets. There have been pleasant exceptions, of course. If you as a working musician avoid these trends, I'd love to hear about it. Feel free to share with the group.

So, for all my jazz colleagues who are still out there working, here are some things to think about while on the gig:

1. Can we just play jazz on a jazz gig and not pander to every taste in the room? (See my post: "Why Are Jazz Musicians So Insecure?")

2. Everyone in the band ask yourself this: If every third or fourth tune we play is a medium- to up-tempo swing number, then what is the point of kicking into double-time during the solos in a ballad? Are we so impatient and immature as musicians that we can't just let a ballad be a ballad?

3. Speaking of ballads - ATTENTION DRUMMERS: Yes, I'm speaking to the drummers...again. Here we are at a jazz gig. The pianist or horn player counts off a slow tempo for a nice, romantic ballad. You can:
A: pick up your brushes and "stir soup" on the snare, or quietly swing on the cymbal. (hint: THIS IS THE CORRECT ANSWER)
B: pick up your sticks and, for no apparent reason, play a quiet, straight-8th rock beat. (WRONG)
C: pick up your sticks and play a rigid 12/8 without having consulted with the rest of the band. (WRONG)
D: pick your nose. (THIS IS THE CORRECT ANSWER IF YOU CAN'T DO "A")

4. Is anyone going to say anything when the drummer inexplicably switches into a funk beat during the Latin tunes? Anyone? Can you say "musical integrity"?

5. Okay, I'm going after the drummers for a third time - here goes! Is it written somewhere that "busy" means "good"? Busy drumming is only one thing - busy drumming. If you're a busy drummer, chances are that you are the only one in the band who thinks it sounds cool. Most of the musicians around you think it's a pain in the ass and view you as musically immature. Seriously! They tolerate it for a variety of reasons, including but not limited to:
A: their fear of bruising your ego if they say anything.
B: it's a free country, so who are they to tell you how to play? After all, you're not telling them how to play.
C: they were once told by an older musician that it's cool when a jazz drummer is busy, so they have this inner conflict going where the voice of the "jazz elder" is saying it's a good thing, and their own musical instincts are telling them to slap you in the face until you drop your sticks.
D: they're afraid that if they ask you to stop playing and just pick your nose, you'll think they're kidding.

The Name is Best, Johnny Best

Well, since I love jazz so much, I suppose it couldn't hurt to write something where I'm not whining and complaining about the way many of today's jazz musicians undermine, belittle, and butcher it. Besides, many of you have been wondering what my all-time favorite jazz trumpet solo is (don't ask me how I know), and while I was tuning pianos today, I thought that now would be a good time to tell you.

In 1969, Reader's Digest issued an album entitled "Great Hits of the Great Bands." I grew up listening to this album.

The second track on Side One is Glenn Miller's recording of Stardust. It was recorded January 29, 1940. The trumpet solo is by Johnny Best, and it is my humble opinion that this is the greatest recorded jazz trumpet solo in history.

Now, I've been listening to jazz avidly since about 1976, when I was 11. And those of you who know me know that I am a rabid fan of Louis Armstrong. And it goes without saying that I have heard many, many trumpet solos by Louis and just about every other jazz trumpeter worth mentioning. So, I don't speak lightly nor out of ignorance when I peg my all-time favorite solo. I know of what I speak.

I will not try to reduce the solo to so many words - you have to hear it. Yes, it swings; yes, it's great jazz. But it goes beyond that. This particular solo is one of those few that transcends its particular musical idiom and becomes simply beautiful music.

So, what IS in a name?

How to Sing Jazz and Scat

Let's cover jazz singing first, since it is very, very uncomplicated (and it comes first in the title of this post).

There are really only two elements that combine to make a good jazz singer, and we can cover the first element in three words: just sing pretty. The mistake many contemporary "jazz singers" make today is in their misguided approach: "I have to sound 'jazzy.'" So, instead of just singing pretty and carrying the melody and letting the jazz combo that's playing behind them provide the real jazz element, they try to sing in a 'jazzy' style, and they end up sounding like they mostly listen to contemporary pop music (because they do). Their idea of "jazzy" is not much more than a parody of some of the more popular recordings of Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald, and (ugh) Bobby Darin's rendition of "Mack the Knife." In fact, that recording of Bobby Darin's is exactly what I'm talking about.

Obviously, just singing pretty applies mostly to the slow and medium tempo numbers. But what about singing something that needs more energy, like "Mack the Knife"? You can't just croon that song. How do you make it sound authentic as a jazz singer?

The difference between contrived and authentic when it comes to singing jazz is also very uncomplicated and is the second element: YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO JAZZ. A LOT. The reason that Ella and Tony and Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday could sing jazz so well is because they were immersed in it. It wasn't just something they happened to hear occasionally in movie soundtracks. And what exactly were they hearing more than anything else? Instrumental jazz. They got the sound and the feel of the horns and the drums and the bass in their blood; they absorbed jazz, real jazz (see my first post in this category), into the way they thought and breathed and phrased. So when they opened their mouths to sing, it was right there.

If you want to sing jazz but never or rarely listen to it, you'll never be more than a poser. This is true for any genre of music you wish to perform.

Now for scat singing. It's also not very complicated.

"What?!" you say. "Scat singing is uncomplicated??"

Quite. And you will understand why in a moment. It comes back to what I was just saying about being immersed in the genre.

If you want to learn how to scat, here is what you DON'T do: listen to Louis and Ella. I have heard so many mediocre scat singers, and I know why they are mediocre. Because they thought listening to Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald (widely considered the masters of the art form) would be the best way to learn. So very wrong.

Louis' idea of scat singing was simply to do an improvised horn solo with the human voice. The syllables he used were always secondary to the phrase or lick he wanted to execute, and the phrasing and the licks came straight from what he knew as a horn player. Louis didn't "invent" scat singing. As soon as jazz improvisation was born, jazz musicians were scat singing in their heads or to each other in rehearsals - "Yeah, play the lick this way: ba-buh-duh bop bop BOW!" Louis was apparently the first to capitalize on the idea that this could be an entertaining, legitimate way of performing an improvised solo.

Now, take Ella. She wasn't an instrumentalist. However, since the moment she joined Chick Webb's orchestra and throughout her entire career, she was surrounded by some of the best jazz instrumentalists in the world. In her early career, Ella would be sitting next to the band while they did their instrumental numbers, absorbing (whether she was trying to or not) the sound of a good tenor sax solo, a good trombone solo, or a good trumpet or piano solo. Louis had pioneered scat singing, giving other jazz musicians (instrumentalists and singers alike) the green light to have a go at it. So, when Ella opened her mouth to scat, it was already in there, ready to come out. It was IN HER BLOOD, because she had been immersed in the jazz idiom. She was known to mimic Louis in her concerts, and did it very well (and it always drew good-natured laughs as she wasn't mocking him). But when Ella was scatting in earnest, you weren't hearing Ella trying to scat like Louis. Let me just hit the nail on the head right here: you weren't hearing a jazz vocalist trying to sound like another jazz vocalist who sounded like an improvised horn solo. With Ella, you were hearing the culmination of her years of hearing great instrumental jazz improvisation practically dropped in her lap.

You want to be a good scat singer? Get out your Count Basie CDs and start learning to sing along with the instrumental solos. It takes time and repetition before you'll be able to sing one all the way through, and if you really don't love jazz, you'll probably lose interest after awhile. On the other hand, your enjoyment of and love for jazz may just shoot through the roof. And remember, don't worry about the syllables you use. They will provide themselves as you learn to imitate the phrasing and nuances of the solos. Change octaves as necessary. Don't look now, but you're absorbing.

Before you know it you'll be able to sing through every solo on the CD, as well as sing along with the band arrangements. It's a lot of fun, actually. Don't think for a moment that you have to sit in front of your stereo for hours on end to do this. No. Have the CD playing in the background while you do the dishes or while driving to work or to the store. Sometimes you'll tune in and start singing along with passages you're beginning to remember; sometimes you'll be talking to someone and not really listening, but you'll be absorbing it nonetheless. And of course there will be those times when you actually have a few moments where you're sitting in your living room and really concentrating on it and rewinding to catch a missed phrase. It's really no different from learning any other CD you're familiar with. It's all about repetition and absorbtion. And as you do this, you will be informing your jazz singing as well (without really trying) with an authenticity it never had before.

Musically, I am not known as a vocalist. I can be an excellent addition to a chorus, and I can actually do a decent job singing some musical theatre styles (though hardly anyone knows this because I just don't do it anymore). My voice is not spectacular in any way, but for theatrical work it is at least utilitarian (which isn't really saying much, I know). But I can say this unequivocally and without boasting where my voice is concerned (and NOBODY knows this about me, because they've never heard me) - when it comes to scat singing, I am one of the best. Take anyone in the business who has been hailed as a great scat singer, and I could easily hold my own on stage with them anytime, anywhere. With a lot of them, I could probably scat their ass right off the stage. How can I say that? Because most of today's scat singers sound like a vocalist trying to sound like a vocalist who sounds like a horn player.

I learned my scatting from listening (for the last 33 years) to the leaders and sidemen of the Basie, Miller, Goodman, Ellington, Kenton, and Dorsey bands. I improvise like a horn player - a really good one. Don't believe me? Set up a challenge. I'm ready.

But this isn't about me. YOU want to learn to sing jazz and to scat. I would recommend you take my advice. It's simple, and it works.