Feb 15

KIND OF BLEUGH, or seven better stand-alone ways into jazz in the early age of the long-playing disc (possibly)

FT40 comments • 3,310 views

(Hoisted from comments on Tom’s thread re-exploring LP-listening in the age of the no-longer moored individual song)

So Tom had put Sketches of Spain by Miles Davis on his list, and in response the thread had discussed the mechanics of politics of tokenism: some idea how and why SoS so often ends up as a rock or pop listener’s one trusty jazz LP, and some suggestions as to better candidates. Inevitably, I ended up getting pre-emptively grumpy about Miles’s Kind of Blue, and was called on this. What’s my actual beef with KoB? And, given this beef, where I would I suggest starting? These were my semi-mulled thoughts, tidied up, with extras added, and responses to responses further down…)

My basic beef with Kind of Blue:
chill outthe short version (set out at speed) is i suppose this: that it is a sly, niggling, jittery record of odd subtle hard-to-pin-down not-very-nice emotions and evocations, which depends for its expressive intent on the listener having a pretty solid familiarity with the music of its day and what went before, for its devices and effects to come across properly (most famously the introduction of the modal approach to harmony, the details and purpose of which i’ve watched seriously learned and articulate musicians struggle to explain coherently or usefully)

and yet it has somehow become the stand-alone representative of the form it is on the whole sardonically setting itself against: something about the way it’s been made — its constituent parts, its presentation — exactly and completely masks this subtly hostile aspect of it, to the extent that it’s instead become a kind of nice-to-hear-in-the-background chill-out classic, which in my opinion suggests a flaw in its conception or execution: that it can’t (or anyway doesn’t) draw the newbie into its darker heart

i don’t think it’s bland or diluted, exactly the opposite — but there’s something about it that allows it to be excerpted from its somewhat snidey role in a larger conversation, and set up on a plinth that puts the rest of this conversation into shadow if not oblivion… which annoys me! miles was never not an argumentative man: he disliked a lot of the work his peers were making, but this almost always meant he came round to his own version of this work by another route

if my musicological chops were less rusty i’d write this up in more detail — tho if/when i attempt this will probably then merge itself into my long-awaited ever-expanding epic dissection of rattle and hum (the “angel of harlem” volume) –:D

[Expanding a bit: i don’t think it’s an accident the record’s called KIND OF blue, or that the first song is called “so what”; i think there’s deliberate misdirection going on. In one sense Miles remained the black face of the cool school, its prior enabler — but the cool school was already controversial by the mid-50s, as a whitening of jazz (on-stage as well as conceptually) and Miles never had much time for the way his own (white) fans understood his music. I think there’s mindfuck going on here — it’s never been a record I can just put on in the background — and it’s not as he wasn’t above sledging his own sidemen, even the loyal, long-term ones. Plus he favoured elision and ellipsis temperamentally — he was never a flamboyant virtuoso and from time to time had harsh things to say about this side of jazz (Coltrane didn’t know when to take the sax out of his mouth etc; various beloved maximalist figures were “greedy”). So to me this is totally a problematic candidate for an “all you need to know is here, and hey! it’s ME!” (quite apart from the fact that this sentence is even less in the spirit of jazz in any era than the idea that composed or recorded contributions best typify it). Besides, there isn’t an era of the jazz he lived through that Miles wasn’t at odds with as he lived through it — which is not an uninteresting fact, but it does mean that you have to know something about what he might be at odds with in any given moment to follow where he’s taking it. And he sure as shit isn’t going to talk you through this dimension: he’s much more likely to remove explanatory props than supply them, just as he did with musicians, getting the performances he wanted not by discursive exploration among equals, but by undermining headfuck, borderline bullying, and sustained personal opacity. He is a great man! But he is neither a direct nor a generous artist; and much of his direction is counter-direction.]

The issue of homework:
Not unreasonably, Tommy Mack came back and asked if I was therefore saying that to understand jazz, you have to arrive (as tommy’s brother insists) with a well informed ear (implication: to understand any of it, you have first to listen carefully to the entirety of jazz in the historical order it was made). This isn’t quite what I meant.

i should add that my general view is not your brother’s! i don’t think you need to do lots of homework before jumping into jazz at any point other than the start: but i also think there are good and bad records to jump in at, and kind of blue is — for me, for the reasons given, not a good one (not least because it seems to end up being the first AND ONLY for so many ppl, which is i think telling)

i tried to put together a quick list of records that would be better places to start in roughly this era — obviously this cleaves to my own tastes (no coltrane) but i don’t think any of these are these days controversial or quirky or contrarian; all of them are strong and striking just in themselves, obviously you get more out of them if you do know more (this is true of everything) but you don’t need a run up.

Adding: what this list attempts to do is provide better routes into the whole of jazz, with the proviso that we’re starting from roughly this point, viz c.1956-64, rather than say 1921-29 or 1935-45 or 1967-75. All of these other startpoints are fine (any startpoint is fine!): all of them will run into their own difficulties. My task here is to outline and endrun the specific difficulties that starting with a LP from c.1956-64 likely runs into. In particular this means any given suggestion has to take into account salient issues in the jazz of the day, trends and beefs and so on, without assuming the newbie listener has any sense of same or orientation within same: in terms of immediate interest and (if you listen closely and often) exploration and development, the records present as stand-alone; you can learn everything you need to know, provided you’re alert and patient and have a goodish natural sense of aural recognition. They’re kind of a beginner’s portal and an advanced masterclass rolled into one. The list is down-page: before I get to it I’ve tried to flesh out my decision-making.

[this^^^ par edited a little on 21.2.15 in light of enitharmon’s comments below: it was clearer in the original discussion than it is here that i absolutely think there are multiple routes into jazz — including hers! which was listening to live jazz as a kid made by people she knew! — and that this exercise is about minimising the obstacles and maximising the potential if you decide to enter jazz via this specific portal]

Format wars!
The key development — the arrival in 1948 of the 33-third vinyl long-playing microgroove record — is discussed in the comments on the earlier thread, by me here and (somewhat argumentatively) here and here: I won’t c&p this here tho by all means request or initiate discussion (and disagreement!) in the comments below. Columbia’s reasons for the new format were better sound (vinyl is less brittle and more durable than shellac) and longer playing time (the microgroove fit more playing onto the same 12 inches; the initial vibrations were smaller so had to be amplified much more, but not-quite-paradoxically this also allowed for more subtlety of variation to be picked up by the new diamond needle). Columbia initially had the new format in mind for classical audiences bored with getting up 6-8 times per symphony to flip or change a 78: and while it offered great potential for jazz musicians to spread out and explore, a particular peril arrived with this — essential that the “serious content” arrived in hock to the values and listening habits of middlebrow classical listeners. Improvisers were already playing creative games — in far more curtailed listening spaces — with echo and anticipation, variation and juxtaposition, so the greater space and complexity wasn’t itself a surprise: but there was a danger that the imposition of classical form was obscuring the value already there. And of course jazz from the teens to the 40s had been brash, because cutting through the noise of a nightclub or a scratchy 78 surface was essential to being heard. Vinyl allowed you to play softly also: sonority or arrangement luxuriated in this new velvety richness of possibility; if quietness was never mistaken for quality, its absence was sometimes taken as a lack of it.

(No accident — as Ward Fowler gently jokes below — that bachelor pad loungecore also started here.)

Against the cool
MJQ third streamSometime around 1957, musician-scholar Gunther Schuller coined the term “third stream” to categorise music that (as a later time would put it) explored a fusion of classical and jazz elements. Now “classical” potentially covers all composed music from Gesualdo to Varèse; jazz by the mid-50s included everything from King Oliver up to if not quite including Cecil Taylor; Schuller had a more delimited territory in mind, hard to pin down w/o getting deeper into the weeds than I plan to here (he definitely saw it as covering Ellington and Strayhorn as well as Charles Mingus). Still — enabled by the new technology (and by the ever-increasing numbers of non-self-taught jazzbos who’d had first-class musical educations: Miles himself went to Juilliard, tho of course he also dropped out before completing his studies) — this was an encounter that was bound to happen; and one that was bound to get intensely politicised, in the era of civil rights struggle and the beginning of the drawing down of legal segregation in the US. On one hand, jazz was “black” and classical was “white’; on the other, there should be no bar wharever to black musicians entering white cultural enclaves, and presumably vice versa; on the third (problematic) hand, white musicians playing what was considered half-assed pseudo-classical jazz seemed to getting the lion’s share of the attention, the approval and the paycheques. (Brubeck as first jazzer on the cover of Time magazine was very much a “zap! bam! comics are not just for kids anymore!” type phenom, for example, marking the apparent enthronement of the cool school as the one that entailed genuine grown-up seriousness worthy of yr sunday arts supp attention…)

Schuller had proposed the term (at least in part) to take some of the political heat out of underlying situation: classical and jazz dudes were both getting territorial about experiments in combination that they felt were encroaching on the excellence of their favoured side. A third recognised zone could perhaps evolve in its own pace at its own way without threatening to spill over into and taint anyone’s considered values. And several figures in Miles’s various projects were good Schullerites and active Third Streamers. Pianist John Lewis had been a key player-composer in Miles’s original Birth of the Cool sessions (he’d co-founded the Modern Jazz Quartet in 1952; in 1960 the MJQ put out a collection called Third Stream Music). Teo Macero had worked with Schuller and Lewis before he teamed up with Miles.

Schuller was/is a front-rank musicologist and historian: always worth reading even when his tastes (or tone) bug you. If he wanted to act as an aesthetic peacemaker, though, he was hopelessly naive. Too much rankled; too many felt shut out. As styles, hard bop and soul jazz both functioned as resistance to the alleged deracination of cool or third stream (but also sometimes fallback and retreat: as invaluable training grounds for many excellent players who only flourished and found themselves after they left). Long story short: an LP from either side of this divide selected as a route into all jazz requires a better history lesson than ^^^this of the divide to operate as introduction; a self-consciously “third stream” item even more so.

The prisonhouse of harmony (a bit technical tho I’m doing my best that it not be)
If you’ve read Pynchon’s Mason & Dixon (or watched the middle two Pirates of the Caribbean movies), you’ll recognise the idea that the imposition on the entire globe of the full latitude-longitude grid changed the nature of travel-as-flight-out: in a very real sense, an adventurer always now knew where they were, and could increasingly draw on reliable accounts of what they’d find there. Quests became a matter more of careful pre-planning — and filling in small gaps on the map — than leaps into the unknown: and the tenor of the tales that followed changed along with this.

Something not dissimilar happened in music: twice, actually. In the 17th century, the 24 Preludes and Fugues of the Well-Tempered Klavier, J.S.Bach had helped establish the latitude-longitude grid for tuning and travels in harmony; by Wagner’s day, the adventures had changed in nature, PotC-style. Previous tuning systems had exactly tuned the home key (usually C major) by the cycle of fifths method; this meant meant that distant keys (like F# major) sounded super-weird, all its proportions wrong. Bach had pioneered a system of conventional mistunings and adjustments that allowed every key to sound in tune — each with its distinctive nudged flavour — and thus allowed harmonic modulation within quite short pieces to take you to remote keys without breaking the extant rules. The extant rules provided a logic within which note and chord choices were made; and thus a context of games with anticipation; expected directions and therefore surprise directions. By the mid 19th century, Wagner had demonstrated you could effectively demonstrate musically that every possible broken modulation rule was in effect a shortcut for a properly constructed route — you could dab in the clues if you liked, but a smart theorist could also supply them afterwards — and so the rules no longer presented composition with the spur of the Fruitful Obstacle or the challenge of a problem-solving. Every direction was now equally OK: and therefor no fun. Whatever you did (in terms of the exploration of harmony) you were still somewhere known on the map (and in fact, composition increasingly moved to explore sonority, which had no such in-built logics).

As its harmonic basis, jazz had inherited the pragmatic aftermath of European composition: composers like Ellington or Strayhorn or Gershwin were well versed in Debussy and Greig and so on. Popsongs were melodies with association chord progressions; improvisation increasingly explored the potential for chord substitions and alterations, and agile darting and leaping around the various spaces this allowed (a lot of bop tunes were essentially well known songs reworked — Bird’s “Koko” famously based on Ray Noble’s “Cherokee”, for example). But in the aftermath of bebop, a not-dissimilar impasse had been reached — the conventional range of altered chords so large, and the networked cycle of connections so pre-explored — that musicians began to feel they were merely glued into reruns. There didn’t seem to be an “out” anymore.

This is one of the reasons that Ornette Coleman’s free jazz project was so startling — exciting for some, terrifying and enraging for others. From the start he was a player with an endlessly melodic invention, a gorgeous ear for the expressively bent blue note at any point on the scale, and an effortless swing. Plus: completely uninterested in harmony as it’s understood in the two paragraphs above. He just somehow stepped entirely outside the self-imposed prison, and from Free Jazz (1960), the New Thing followed him en masse (a couple of players, notably Cecil Taylor, were there before him, though they got there by a very different route).

My contention is that (on the whole) to choose a post-Free Jazz New Thing LP is to make the route back to the earlier history of jazz something that requires a whole lot of in-fill explanation (as above, but, y’know, comprehensible). Which makes it a bad stand-alone start off point: because post-Free Jazz any New Thing thing is part of a larger conversation — a trend that’s also an argument, political as well as aesthetic. Does this stricture apply to Ornette himself? SEE BELOW :D

[adding (edit made six hours after posting): the modal approach to harmony found in Kind of Blue is *also* an escape route out of the exact same prisonhouse of harmony, albeit a less startling one than ornette’s leap into outer space — roughly speaking (bcz there is no room in this margin for an adequate description/explanation) modal organisation is what came before “classical” harmony evolved: versions of it can be heard in the polyphonic church music of the 15th and 16th centuries, though this doesn’t help make deep sense of KoB really, except to underline its hidden peculiarities…]

Sociology: Biography | Politics

If there’s one thing that distinguishes the discursive jazz aesthetic of the 50s and early 60s from the the discursive rock aesthetic of the late 60s and after, it’s the issue of the role of the backstory (whether personal or social). Rock was never not also about stagecraft and performance, and (most importantly) the treatment of the public image (in print and on-screen) as a central part of the project (if not the most important part): before LeRoi Jones’s Blues People (1963) and A.B.Spellman’s Four Lives in the Bebop Business (1966), very little jazz discussion operated in this territory (Jones, or Amiri Baraka as he later became, is a hugely important writer for rock critics like Richard Meltzer or Lester Bangs). So again: I’ve looked for releases that don’t depend on this kind of backstory to establish their value, because in effect, from this specific era, I think it’s a bit anachronistic.

Jazz Expansive | Jazz Reductive | Jazz Evasive

I’ve dodged away from items in the second two categories. Hard bop or cool jazz would be jazz reductive, because only “representative” if you add explanatory context or other material not there in the groove — including records in the opposing camp. And later Miles — In a Silent Way (1969) or On the Corner (1972), both of which I adore — are jazz evasive: by then, Miles was off on his own exploring (and anticipating) other territories. This is my list of jazz expansive: if you start here, and listen well, you find yourself taken out into a larger world, and learning a little how to navigate that world, and respond to what else you find.

Anyway here (at last) is my actual list!

Mingus Ah Umi:sonny rollins: saxophone colossus (prestige, 1957) [1]
ii: ornette coleman: the shape of jazz to come (atlantic, 1959) [2]
iii: charles mingus: mingus ah um (columbia, 1959) [3]
iv: oliver nelson: the blues and the abstract truth (impulse!, 1961) [4]
v: roland kirk: we free kings (mercury, 1961) [5]
vi: lee konitz: motion (verve, 1961) [6]
vii: eric dolphy: out to lunch (blue note, 1964) [7]

1 (colossus): rollins is possibly actually the player i’m most circumspect abt saying you can come to cold and get something out of, bcz (a) i came really late to him, and (b) actually maybe prefer way out west myself, which is a complex and playful argument abt quarrels in jazz in the late 50s (and authenticity! which it teases!) [adding: the west in the title tweaks at the fact that the the cool/anticool tussles fell into a west/east coast split]. rollins has enormous knowledge of the history of jazz (and other musics) so he always is talking about them, but i don’t think you have to bring any of this with you yourself, i think you can begin learning it from him! (others may disagree…) (miles by contrast is a really tricky place to start learning abt the rest of jazz, he has OPINIONS and a MANIPULATIVE AGENDA —> not that these are bad, quite the reverse, but caveat the newbie listener)

2 (shape): originally i went with ornette on tenor here, the first ornette i owned myself, but it is more of an oddity i suppose [adding plus free jazz]. — i am very fond of it though; ornette’s desired title for the shape of jazz to come was focus on sanity, haha x0x0 never change dude (he is probably my favourite player of all, forever) — if all you do is listen to the loveliness of the melodies and the sound and the interplay, you are discovering lots (certainly you don’t need to arrive with an exam passed in harmonic progression)

3 (ah um): kind of a history lesson in itself: mingus when not irascible or sprawling (he’s great when irascible and sprawling also, but keeps it very tight here — and establishes the links to black music that isn’t jazz very effectively); great title, great cover

4 (abstract): nelson probably the least widely known in my list; bcz he afterwards went to LA and mainly composed for the telly — as per the title, yet another stab at the question of how to combine composition, arrangement and the improvised encounter of individuals only just now in a group (a very 50s question, which many returned to), but again, entirely stands on its own; gripping, not least because the modern remaster means the sounds just leaps out and grabs you (i hadn’t listened for ages, just went to find it on spotify)

5 (kings): not yet “rahsaan roland kirk” (he found his extra name in a dream), kirk was blind, a multi-instrumentalist showman (he mastered strange-named instruments like the stritch and devised a means to play three saxes simultaneously), with a dramatising fascination for sound — like mingus (who he played with) he has a deep knowledge of black music history, so you’re learning upfront from him and the homework can come afterwards :) and he can also be wildly and weirdly funny [adding: there’s an element in jazz that has its start in forgotten circus-act stunt-music — the kinds of showman cornet players that louis armstrong originally took off from; the kind of sax that rudy vallee’s inspiration rudy weidoeft played; kirk is in this tradition, which maybe sidelined him a bit the way it did the otherwise fairly dissimilar sun ra]

6 (motion): i saw konitz play at one of derek bailey’s company weeks, genuinely one the strangest and startling performances i’ve ever seen (he was way out of his apparent comfort zone — a white cerebral scion of the cool school far out into hardcore improv terrain — except he seemed not only comfy but composedly making more of the adventure than anyone else there); this is not *that* but in a curious way not entirely dissimilar, a deeply reserved man finding a space to make endless reflective plangent shapes

7 (lunch): this is of course the record everyone should have if they only have one :D
[adding: ward f below wonders if it’s too demanding to jump right into? i don’t believe so, but fair warning i suppose: not least bcz it strikes me that the title is a giveaway joke — this is music that in one sense has stravinsky and varèse at its back, so yes, it’s “out”, but it’s out in a comfy cheerful way! out to lunch (and then back again…) (and you’re invited!)]

if i were actually to pick a miles i think it wd be live at the plugged nickelin a silent way is lovely but no longer really “jazz” in the sense wichita and others are puzzling at (contentious i guess, but it’s miles’s own position also). as noted my list skirts the shores of the NEW THING (aka free jazz) without plunging in: like miles post in a silent way, free jazz is just i think a different issue — but it was actually my starting point (i think this is quite often true of ppl arriving from rockier territories), and declares itself more ab novo than it probably actually is (which i didn’t then realise, [ADDING: as also noted, essentially i think that both hard bop (as exemplified by the tireless and inspirational art blakey) and soul jazz (as it wasn’t yet quite being termed?: i mean ppl like horace silver) were retrenchments in the face of the issues of west coast cool and third stream]

quite pleased that i got seven difft labels there — this wasn’t done on purpose!

PUNCTUM: My starting point also, aged about five, when life is a big cartoon and so Ornette etc. were yet more crazy but lovable primary-coloured blocks-o’-fun. Before you fall into the trap of “learning” about anything.*

*”what do you mean, five, you poseur?” My father loved, bought and played the stuff (and Stockhausen, Xenakis &c. on parallel plane) and I listened.**

**but then you get to where I am now and have worked your way back to The Beginning Of Jazz with the starkly delightful revelation: oh, they were doing this kind of stuff from the off!

response: Yes, I completely agree here — a lot of what was presented as avant garde in the 60s actually required LESS backstory than the mainstream (if any), which was a big element in its success. So the new thing is as good a way in as punk would be a generation later: because you were literally being let off doing any homework before you started listening. (The extent to this this is true does vary though: Ornette is easy-entry because he is bypassing the conventions of 40s and 50s jazz harmony; Coltrane by contrast is absorbing and mastering and transforming them — all of them — which means you are certainly missing something if you haven’t absorbed at least some of them.) (It’s the apparent setting aside of generations of achievement in black music that tasks Wynton Marsalis, incidentally: he believes that the New Thing casually dispensed with decades of accreted value, as if it had never happened.) You can indeed hear all the connections and echoes if you go back by choice and plunge into the early music — and as punctum says that’s a good thing to do — but there’s an element of the rhetoric surrounding the New Thing that sometimes maybe discourages this? The kind of tone that allowed ppl to call Armstrong an Uncle Tom or a sellout :(

LENA: An American quartet called Mostly Other People Do The Killing (they are good and funny, yes humor does belong in jazz) have done a note-for-note cover of Kind Of Blue, which I am more & more intrigued by (like my mom I like things like Miles Smiles and Miles Ahead). A big co-sign from me on Sonny Rollins, as he once said that jazz is the umbrella that all other musics stand under, and his music proves it. Way Out West is great, but then so is The Bridge

response: I’m delighted ppl are repping for Way Out West, but as noted I do think it requires a bit of homework/backstory in the disputes between west coast/east coast style, and even the cool jazz vs soul jazz factions, to get the context of the jokes, and the territories Rollins is blasting off out of. The issue of cover versions of entire LPs continues to intrigue me: why doesn’t this happen more often? (c.f. also newly performed versions of Stockhausen’s electronic pieces…)

TOMMY MACK: My dad too had a load of jazz and avant stuff though he rarely played it, having settled, by the 80s, into a dadrock diet of Joe Cooker, Eric Clapton and Dire Straits. He definitely played me On The Corner and In A Silent Way, possibly Bitches Brew and Live Evil too. I remember being intrigued but clearly not enough to return to them much. He was a big John McLaughlin fan and definitely played me a couple of Mahavishnu Orchestra albums which I tried to get into, being similarly awestruck by McLaughlin’s guitar playing but I found their sound harsh and ugly and their music impenetrable at the time. He also played me John Cage, possibly Stockhausen, definitely Steve Reich, who I found most interesting (It’s Gonna Rain sticks in my head – this must have been much later once I had re-embraced dance music as I remember hearing parallels with phase stuff DJs were doing). For the most part I plumped for the more rock/pop stuff in the parental record collection (Beefheart, Modern Lovers, Chuck Berry, Who, Zep, Atomic Rooster from my Dad, Nilsson and Nat King Cole from my mum, Beatles from both)

What I did haven’t mentioned is that in our late teens, my brother and I used to go to live jazz all the time. It was mainly dancing to jazz-funk at Dancehouse Cafe Bar but the odd sit-down modern jazz gig too. We were stoned most nights. While I don’t want to sound like a tedious weed enthusiast (haven’t smoked it for years) for a bit it definitely helped me absorb myself in rich and complicated music.

response: No comment re weed, except to say it’s never played a part in my own listening habits. There’s a big book still to be written here, about which drug-of-choice nurtures what music, and how much this is actually significant. Jazz is of course full of drunks and dopers and junkies. I am not the person to write it :)

speak no evilWARD FOWLER: Yes! to Way Out West over Saxophone Colossus. Yes! to Blues and the Abstract Truth – EVERYBODY likes that when they hear it. Hmmm to Out to Lunch, because in my experience ppl who are new to jazz find it quite difficult to get to grips with – in some ways those semi-free Blue Note albs of the early-to-mid 60s are more daunting – abstract, elusive – than the fire-breathing stuff like Spiritual Unity. Yes! to Motion: just as the Nelson smuggles in Bill Evans (so Kind of Blue is present anyway!) Motion smuggles in Coltrane via Elvin Jones (tho’ yeah Konitz and Coltrane are a million miles apart as players and people).

My number eight wld be Speak No Evil by Wayne Shorter – because it’s quite ‘witchy’ modal jazz played by a stupendous group, and it has one of the great Blue Note front sleeves. “Where Flamingos Fly” on Gil Evans’s Out of the Cool also has some of this semi-exotic/post-Martin Denny spookiness – ‘cool’ as heroin-y numbness and emptiness (see also the Chet album w/ Bill Evans again.) And Gil always said it best about Ornette – “I like him. He swings, and he’s got a good feeling for melody.”

response: Yes, I completely forgot about Wayne Shorter (though of course he’s on the Live at the Plugged Nickel sets); apparently my unconscious filing system places him later chronologically, bcz Weather Report I guess :\

The Gil Evans/Martin Denny connection made me grin (because yes: grown-up 50s music does overlap with loungecore). See also response to Tom.

TOM: I have learned more from this excellent discussion than from Sketches itself, though I enjoyed it very much. It was at its most evocative in the car park outside Croydon IKEA waiting for a kids’ birthday party to finish at the nearby. bowling alley. Obviously what Miles and Gil Evans had in mind.

response: Replaying Sketches of Spain last night I realised that it’s pretty much the template that Ennio Morricone exhausted scoring the spaghetti westerns, something I’d actually never spotted before.

LONEPILGRIM: I’ve also glad to have a(nother) recommended route into jazz. I’ve never listened to Kind of Blue – it’s another of those monoliths like Pet Sounds that I tend to avoid. Knowing that it is open to other interpretations makes it more appealing. I think I got drawn into jazz through Prog: Mahavishnu Orchestra > Miles Davis. His name was also dropped from time to time in the NME (and later in The Face). Weather Report got played a bit on Nicky Horne’s show on Capital Radio and there was some crossover via Steely Dan and Joni Mitchell. There’s something about Wayne Shorter’s playing that really appeals to me. I went to see Art Blakey in the early 80s because he was playing near and near the end of the decade I saw Abdullah Ibrahim and Ekaya. Both shows were marvellous. More recently I worked at a (state) boys school which supports a big Jazz band and it was an astonishing privilege to listen to them as they rehearsed – the volume! the rich complexity of tones! I appreciate that I’m wandering into ‘jumpers for goalposts’ territory here – but it is music that stimulates me whenever I get to hear it so I’m glad to have another set of routes to explore

response: The link that wichita lineman notes — of John Barry as a Sten Kenton disciple — is good, I think. A lot of the orchestral wing of this music ended up helping shape 60s film scores and TV themes, not always as strikingly sui generis as Ennio Morricone’s, but still rich and vivid and effective. I guess I should also say that all of this is expanded out of a desire to ensure that the monolith isn’t just rolled against the door it’s meant to be helping you pass through. Kind of Blue is a great record! But there are better places to start from if you want to understand and enjoy the rest of jazz.


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  1. 1

    [ok this could stand a little more tidying in a couple of places]

  2. 2
    lonepilgrim on 19 Feb 2015 #

    we are not worthy

  3. 3

    didn’t think of it till hours too late but i shd actually have titled this “into the hot take” :D

  4. 4
    enitharmon on 19 Feb 2015 #

    Mark, I’m sure you wouldn’t want it this way but it kinda sounds like Mark Sinker the great arbiter of musical style decrees what you shall and shall not like this season. A bit like the fashion writers who tell me it’s social death this season for the over-60s to wear horizontal stripes or long hair (so I go ahead with wearing my clothes and my hair the way I want to!) I’m not going to apologise for having Kind of Blue in my collection; I have Bitches Brew too and while I don’t listen to either of them as complete albums all that often I don’t play one more than the other. Quite a lot of Coltrane too, I was listening to Meditations (or Pop Goes The Weasel as I’m wont to call it) earlier. Not sure where I stand with Bix Beiderbecke at one end of the timescale or Andy Sheppard at another; they’re about as different from each other and from Miles Davis as anything could be and still unmistakeably carry the same label. There’s stuff here that seriously pushes the boundaries of what Jazz might be and some of that stuff is terrific.

    I’m not sure how it’s possible to specify the right way into jazz for any one person. Probably Kind Of Blue is an easier way in than Bitches Brew as long as the newcomer keeps well clear of the musicological wankery that goes with it; that sort of thing can wait – it’s all right to say ‘I don’t know how it works but I like it’. I’d steer clear of Ornette Coleman – we can’t all be Marcello! But why not whet the appetite with Fats Waller, Brubeck, Herbie Hancock or something else with superficial appeal as well as depth? Baby steps! It should be about personal enjoyment, not what to be see or not seen with in the collection.

  5. 5

    anyone can start anywhere! and this isn’t about what you ought to like: that’s up to you! it’s about where a good place is to start if you want to get good steers for what else there is and how it connects (other than the very beginning, as tommy mack’s brother insisted, and proceeding strictly chronologically: which is the homework method, which i am too impatient and perverse for)

    I’m not sure how it’s possible to specify the right way into jazz for any one person
    This is very possibly true. But in my experience a lot of the advice people get is more unhelpful than not (as in actively offputting unless you’re already pretty tough-minded and persevering): this is an attempt to look a bit deeper at why.

    anyway, what did you hear first?

  6. 6

    thinking about it i’m pretty sure i started with anthony braxton’s B-Xo/ N-O-1-47A, which i *really* don’t recommend as yr kick-off point — i returned it to shrewsbury music library* thinking “i am not yet ready for this music, but MAYBE ONE DAY”

    *which had a colossally eccentric collection

  7. 7
    thefatgit on 20 Feb 2015 #

    Fantastic stuff here that deserves more than a cursory scan. I’m sort of like Tommy Mack, only my dad didn’t have a massive jazz collection. One stand out was a novelty jazz LP by Dudley Moore of all people, but attempted to cover as many bases as possible IIRC. One I remember was a reading of “autumn leaves” played rather sombrely, made me feel sad. Another one was a little more freeform (?) or abstract. He played “angrily”. I wish I could remember the title, but I was only a couple of years older than when Marcello played mental lego with Ornette. Then snippets of Mingus on Charlie Brown and the film scores of Lalo Schifrin and Ennio Morricone. Dave Brubeck Quartet. All fairly vanilla.

    Fast forward to KOB. Yes, absolutely background “chill-out”, but as it was downloaded to my iPod, soundtracking bus rides and train trips. I associate it with moving through suburban Southern England, which is somewhat appropriate. Later, Bitches Brew, a communal listening with mates over poker and beer. My jazz experience has been fairly light. Sukrat’s list is pregnant with possibilities.

  8. 8

    Was it Genuine Dud? Moore actually gets a not-unkind entry in Richard Cook’s Jazz Encyclopaedia: “better at comedy than he was at jazz, but plays a very decent piano in a light Errol Garner style”. He was a genuinely gifted musician — former organ scholar, in the Johnny Dankworth orchestra for a while — but never really a committed one.

  9. 9
    thefatgit on 20 Feb 2015 #

    I think it’s “The Other Side Of..”. I remember a moody looking Dud on the cover, might have been a Terry O’Neill photo.

  10. 11
    swanstep on 20 Feb 2015 #

    All of Mark’s primer albums are on Spotify, so while we may not be worthy (#2 above!), we also have no excuse for not checking out these records (it took me 4-5 minutes to get them all into a playlist). The limits of the 160 kBps free tier are probably going to be apparent; Mark’s playlist could well be the best ad. ever for upgrading to Spotify’s higher bit-rate paid tier!

  11. 12
    Ed on 20 Feb 2015 #

    @5, @6 My first jazz album: Tauhid, by Pharoah Sanders. Probably because I’d seen some rock musician or musicians (Sonic Youth?) talking about him. On an Impulse cassette with the orange spine, for £3 from one of those specialist Classical record shops in, I think, Holborn.

    I loved it, and still do.

    Coincidentally, Sanders appears on my latest jazz acquisition, John Coltrane’s Meditations, as mentioned by Enitharmon @4.

    That is also a great album, with amazing saxophone duets where Sanders blazes away and Coltrane sounds like he is debating with him. Sometimes Coltrane is trying to reason with Sanders and calm him down, sometimes he is urging him on, and sometimes he’s trying to outdo him.

  12. 13
    thefatgit on 20 Feb 2015 #

    #10, That’s the fella!

  13. 14
    enitharmon on 20 Feb 2015 #

    What did I hear first? Probably Rod Argent’s dad and others playing at the Mid-Herts Musicians Club night in Welwyn Garden City.

  14. 15
    Tom on 20 Feb 2015 #

    I think the first jazz album I bought – and I have still not bought many, to be honest, though will be listening to Lord Sukrat’s suggestions – was In A Silent Way, basically because it kept coming up as an ancestor of a lot of ambient and er ‘post-rock’ records I did very much like at the time (1993/4). It’s still probably the jazz LP I’ve played most, it’s long been one of those default records for me you put on when you can’t think of what to put on.

  15. 16
    IP on 20 Feb 2015 #

    Great discussion! I’ve always thought of myself as a very tokenistic jazz-listener, but after 20+ years of listening, that’s probably daft false modesty.

    Also, I’m lucky enough to have a good friend who knows a lot more than me. I’d definitely recommend having a, er, JAZZ MENTOR.

    Here’s are the discs I’d recommend for beginners, bearing in mind my tastes are closer to the easy listening end of things:

    * Martial Solal – incredible French piano player, played on A Bout de Souffle soundtrack. Pretty much all his stuff has value. Not well represented on Spotify though.
    * Donald Byrd – Electric Bird. This is amazing. Also, I have tinnitus, and it’s great for masking the buzz.
    * For fans of “Kind of Blue” who want a similar combination of vibe and accessibility — pretty much any Clifford Brown or Dexter Gordon’s Go.
    * I don’t know much about Keith Jarrett, but Inside Out, his improv record from the 90s is exceptional. A mood record. Good for when you’ve done In A Silent Way to death.
    * That Bryan Ferry record doing 20s jazz versions of Roxy Music songs. Probably not very good, but I enjoy it.
    * Other Miles Davis: Lift to the Scaffold, Get Up With It, and On The Corner – I think On the Corner’s very tuneful. Rather that than Bitches Brew any day.
    * Old crooners: Sinatra, Aznavour, etc. Obviously. “Lady in Satin” is gorge. That might be an obvious suggestion too though.
    * Louis Armstrong plays WC Handy. One of the greatest things ever made in historical history.

  16. 17
    Andrew Farrell on 20 Feb 2015 #

    The best ad for Spotify Premium is surely “All the music* available when you’re off the internet too, with a little planning”

    * this of course isn’t true, but seems a little truer every week.

  17. 18

    Hi IP! I too really really like that Bryan Ferry record :)

  18. 19
    Andrew Farrell on 20 Feb 2015 #

    Also relevant (but may not embed well):

    [Edit: bah here’s the link https://vine.co/v/Oe3n51x6UVB ]

  19. 20

    [admin note: minor thread purge after requested name edit to swanstep’s post — viz removed all pre-change admin discussion]

  20. 21

    haha i just found a 13-yr-old ilx thread (TS: kind of blue vs a love supreme) which worries at similar matters — worth reading mainly for the long and very recent contribution re coltrane right at the end, from josh k

  21. 22
    Tommy Mack on 21 Feb 2015 #

    This has been fascinating. I’ll definitely listen to Sukrat’s tips and as many of the other suggestions as I can. Though it might be a while, work and other things are hectic right now.

    The first Jazz album I bought was a comp called A Taste Of Jazz: Mellow and Warm (the best of mainstream melodic jazz) for 79p in a charity shop (it was one of a four disc set, the cover photo was a peach, the missing discs included Fresh and Sharp (orange) and Late Night Cool With a Hint of The Blues (grape). Disc 4 was strawberry but can’t remember the name) I enjoyed it but was aware even then it was like ordering the lemon and herb sauce in Nando’s: not even entry level jazz-spice.

    The second jazz CD I bought was an ultra-cheapo Best of Miles that actually stitched together live sets from the Sound Of Silence line-up in 69 and an earlier quintet from 64: possibly the worst introduction to Jazz imaginable according to collected comments. My reaction to it and to my Dad’s jazz records was never ‘I don’t like this’ (well maybe a bit with Mahavishnu) but ‘this is interesting, I’ll definitely come back to this’ – a promise to myself I’ve still to fulfill.

    As for Miles, why did I plump for him over the others? Maybe cos my dad rated him so highly, maybe because he’s such an iconic figure but partly I think because he fits my rock-star super(anti)hero model: not the ex-junkie archetype but the bloody-minded control freak one (what it says about me that these are the performers with whom I most closely identify, I don’t care to think!). It never occurred to me that Miles was deliberately misleading me about Jazz though I did have a sense that he is different from his contemporaries in the way that say, Jimi Hendrix was different from most late 60s rock. I didn’t realise I was getting a Lou Reed or Frank Zappa imposing his own singular narrative on his innovations (better word than innovations?) Is there an argument that stand alone icons make a poor introduction to their era and genre(s)? Possibly not, I think we can learn about Merseybeat through the early Beatles and Punk through the Pistols but then you have iconic musicians like Madonna or Black Sabbath who will tell you something about the mores and sounds of their times but don’t really sound or feel much like anyone around them. (deliberately ignoring characters like Kate Bush or Captain Beefheart who are,rightly or wrongly, regularly held up as singular figures without peer)

    Finally, on KoB I wouldn’t say I play it more than Milestones or Birth Of The Cool, certainly, I don’t see it only as agreeable background music (though I have used it for those purposes), I hear darkness and dissent in there and it feels different to other jazz from this period but I don’t have sufficient background to know much more than that.

    I will get back to you when I’ve done my homework!

  22. 23
    Stephen on 25 Feb 2015 #

    Re. classical harmony: yeah, kinda. You’re skipping a few important steps before Wagner (mostly Schubert), but generally a good account. As for modes, the mediaevals used the term primarily because it came from Greek music theory, not because (like Miles etc.) they were trying to construct a new harmonic idiom: they didn’t have harmony until the Renaissance – all Latin church music until then was monophonic.

    As for Ornette Coleman sidestepping the tradition, this is a not unfair appreciation of his harmonic innovations, but there are many composers (to name only those pre-1920s) working within the classical tradition who similarly sidestepped: Howells, Debussy, Vaughan Williams, Stravinsky. Also, composition after about 1920 generally moved away from a common practice harmonic idiom. While you didn’t state this in so many words, I got the impression that jazz harmony was being compared with late 19th-century classical harmony. If you look like for like at times, you end up comparing Coleman with Messiaen, Britten, Shostakovich – all of whom were at least as harmonically inventive and original than Coleman; Messiaen more so.

  23. 24
    Brian on 26 Feb 2015 #

    Your “basic beef” … really? Just listen for fuck’s sake. Kind of Blue is transcendent.
    All the other seven selections, btw, excellent also.

  24. 25
    Tommy Mack on 7 Mar 2015 #

    I got nearly halfway through: Rollins, Ornette, Mingus, before baby Mack hatched. Listened to all three repeatedly and thoroughly enjoyed all. I did have more to say about each but I’ve left it too long and my brain’s been fried by all the broken sleep and futile shopping trips to buy nipple shields in the correct size for my wife.

    From what I recall, Rollins sounds warm and open (slightly earlier so predating the advent of modal jazz?) with Ornette taking us to some stranger places and throwing in snatches of the screechy stuff that seems to put a lot of people off jazz (not me, especially as on TSOJTC they seem balanced out by more ‘melodic’ passages). Mingus probably somewhere in between the two.

    Anyway thanks for the tips and when I get some free time (probably commuting!) I’ll get back on it with #4-7!

  25. 26
    koganbot on 29 Mar 2015 #

    This feeds more off the other discussion, but I want to say here, right now, that when it comes to token jazz albums, you guys don’t know shit! I, Frank Kogan — or I, Frank Kogan, back as a teenager — penetrate to the essence of the token jazz album. Listen, Kind Of Blue is for the serious jazz dabbler. I mean, you guys (I mean, the guys who bought Kind Of Blue without followup), bought it because it topped some poll, right? Or because it was recommended to you, or something? Whereas I, as the pure token of tokenism, got jazz not even because it was jazz, but because it was the cutting edge of whatever it was the cutting edge of (the Revolution? Well, it was on Columbia Records) (followed on by the cutting edge of what used to matter, also on Columbia, iirc):

    First jazz album bought by me: Miles Davis Bitches Brew
    Second jazz album bought by me (if I even knew it could be classified as “jazz,” which I may not have known): some Billie Holiday 2-LP compilation covering the early years, possibly called The Early Years (the label was confusing things by releasing multiple 2-LP and 3-LP sets with overlapping material: this one perhaps begins with “Miss Brown To You” and has the banana-bananah song and perhaps “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” (so the alb becomes my intro to the Gershwins, too, but maybe “Can’t Take That” was on one of the 3-LP sets) and “Swing, Brother Swing,” which was my favorite for rocking hardest).

    Got a token blues album too, the second Robert Johnson compilation (the one with “Love In Vain”).

    Except, to discombobulate my classic tokenism, prior to this, or these, “jazz” albums, and inexplicably (I don’t know how it got in the house, probably bought by my parents, who at the time didn’t listen to jazz at all — and the Billie comp was a revelation to my mom, too, because she knew most of the songs from her childhood but had never heard Billie’s versions — we’d had a long-playing record player when I was five, but it died, then when I was nine, in the summer or fall of 1963, a month or two after I and my brother had stopped listening to top 40 (except it now comes out that in secret he still was) they got another record player, this one stereo, along with two folk albums because they knew we liked folk: the first Joan Baez album (which I hated because of her voice, but the songs nonetheless are stuck in my head ineradicably, “Banks Of The Ohio” and “Long Black Veil”) and the Weavers At Carnegie Hall, which didn’t thrill me either (my real love was the Kingston Trio’s “MTA,” on the At Large alb, which I soon bought or my brother bought or they bought ) and sometime after that — who knows why? had someone given it to them? or when? (I think it was ’63 or ’64, but may have even been ’66)) a contemporary jazz album ended up in my collection, a bunch of jazz pianists — don’t remember who all, think there were four of them, one was Ellington, another was Earl “Fatha” Hines, a third, possibly, was Willie “The Lion” Smith, though maybe I’m just mixing him in because the quotation marks around “Fatha” associate with quotation marks around “The Lion,” and let’s stick Mary “Lou” Williams in there too, as long as this is degenerating into guesswork, and the sound was this strange tinkly plinky pointillism, it seemed, all these high notes in a haze while piano interplayed with piano — I’m sure this was a colossal mishearing on my part, but for several years afterwards jazz in my mind was a high-pitched, drizzling mist.

    Btw, Tommy Mack’s brother is right. “If you just put on Bitches Brew it’ll make no sense.” I remember reading a jazz interview at the time, some musician who hated Bitches Brew describing it as program music gibberish, “Here’s the giraffe. Here’s the elephant,” which is how it sounded to me, too. Didn’t play it much. Not until eight years later, at least, after I’d heard Pangaea, in which the trumpet (and keybs?) sounded like Miles was staging interventions on his own albums, spraying forth bold lines of paint to restructure all the jamming and vamping going on underneath (possibly also a mishearing, but a more interesting one), was I, with my ears readjusted, able to hear Bitches Brew as a weird hostile Louis let loose in the abstract expressionist exhibit, splashing broad brushstrokes and rearranging sky and ground, while the sidemen tore up the joint. And here’s the giraffe! And the elephant!

  26. 27
    koganbot on 29 Mar 2015 #

    An intriguing moment in “Swing, Brother Swing” is when Billie sings “Red indigo, and there ain’t nobody gonna hold me down.” How in the world can you have red indigo? (Turns out it’s “Rarin’ to go.”)

  27. 28
    koganbot on 29 Mar 2015 #

    Feeling very ignorant here, so:

    Question 1: Is it correct to say that during the ’40s and ’50s the usage of the word “jazz” both narrowed and changed so that what it denoted became more consistent and less varied and contradictory (but conversely, when there was a controversy over jazz taxonomy it was more fraught than it had been in decades past, and of course the relative taxonomic stability didn’t last) and so that what was retrospectively considered historically part of “jazz” (from Buddy Bolden through to bop) was narrower than what had actually been called “jazz” in the ’10s through ’40s? (No idea what was being called what in the 1890s-’00s.)

    Question 2: So is my impression correct that, prior to this narrowing and shifting, terms like “jazz” and “blues,” and later “swing” (and what about “western swing”? and “country”? and “pop”?*) had significant overlap, that a broad range of dance music could be considered all three (or six)? How was someone like, say, Big Joe Turner classified in the 1930s? If a time warp had let people in 1934 hear “Shake, Rattle And Roll” (either version) would it have been obviously “something other than jazz” to them? (Hat-tip to Swanstep @36 under My Own Private Record Club.)

    Data note: Otis Ferguson (died 1943) considered Fred Astaire a jazz figure (probably more for dancing than singing, but also taken as a whole).

    Question 3: The role of improvisation and length of solos had a lot to do with the reconfiguring, right? And making a fetish of them? (Assuming I’m right about the nomenclature being reconfigured.) Also, the role of dance.

    Question 4: What about singers? In the era covered by Mark, the early LP era, Miles may be the elephant in the room as regards the future, but singers — significantly absent from Mark’s list of “jazz expansive” — were the elephants of the present. E.g., in the late ’50s Dinah Washington could be considered simultaneously the most popular jazz singer in the world and the most popular blues singer in the world, but she seems now to have been written out of both of those categories. (Or am I wrong about that?)

    What about Nat King Cole?

    *UPDATE: “Folk” should be in there too. (I remember reading somewhere that through the ’40s “folk” was a viable term for a lot of what was eventually called “country,” that it was the association with the left and with communism that doomed the word “folk” in this usage (and encouraged it in others). Of course, “I remember reading somewhere” is not a very useful citation.) Um, and while I’m in the update section, let’s note that there was a famous movie in 1929 featuring Al Jolson that was called The Jazz Singer.

  28. 29

    1: yes, I think jazz in the 20s and 30s was very quickly being used in a wider sense, to mean anything hot and hip and exciting and strange and now (the design term ‘Art Deco’ was also known as ‘Jazz Moderne’ for example). Also (at least in the 20s) many people were likely reading about it who weren’t hearing it (or anyway not hearing it very directly). Al Jolson’s “The Jazz Singer” really isn’t jazz, to modern ears — even if you ignore the blackface and so on.

    Prior to c.1920 it’s wasn’t a term at all outside New Orleans — it gained widespread currency when the Original Dixyland Jazz (sometimes Jass) Band had a massive (million selling) hit with Tiger Rag. And more still when they got into a big law-suit, about who owned (and should be paid for) the titles being recorded. Ended with the judge saying, (in effect) “No one owns them, this is just horrible noise so copyright doesn’t apply.” Paul Whiteman’s dance orchestra is barely what people would call jazz today: in the 20s and 30s he was King of Jazz.

    2: true again, I think (though I’m not sure how widespread in the 40s and early 50s the word “pop” was in anything like a modern sense). In the 20s at least, “blues” pretty much meant “black performer aimed at black consumers” — in my opinion blues stabilised as a recognisable form as a result of recordings, clarifying towards the 12-bar sound out of quite a wide range of forebears, some not so far from parlour music, some not so far from field music; soundwise too, it always overlapped somewhat with country, except that “blues” was NEVER (in the 20s and 30s) the preferred term for music that white performers were singing; so it functions as a device for audiences (in effect, and with exceptions) to segregate themselves (or however you want to say this). Swing would become in the mid-30s more a term for a whiter brand of music after Benny Goodman had his first breakthrough with white college kids (via live radio broadcasts), and became the King of Swing. The Western in Country and Western is Western Swing. As the avatar of potential desegregation, Elvis was of course referred to (sometimes) as “King of the Western Bop”, which was a kind of joke about Western Swing and bop’s relationship to swing (its weird alien cousin), unbothered by the fact that he sounds nothing like bebop.

    Leroi Jones strongly argued that the screamier end of 50s R&B evolved out of bebop: boppers like Illinois Jacquet (and indeed Dizzy Gillespie sometimes) preferred to smear the fast clear articulation of a Charlie Parker into slides and shrieks, and this was more and more folded into the party music favoured by northern, urban blacks (in say Newark, where Jones grew up, and less and less seen as part of the “art wing” of jazz. Jones had also always argued that bebop was a reaction against the “whitening” of earlier forms (and distrusted the proto-classicism of much of the art wing). He and A. B. Spellman laid down the line on this very effectively in the 60s (and Jones called his book Blues People): prior to this highly effective, highly political move, I suspect critical pedantry re genre-terms was more to do with intra-scribe squabbles than anything else. But I don’t know this: what downbeat or (in the UK) Melody Maker termed the various styles would make for interesting study. Both magazines paid a lot of attention to the terms musicians themselves were using — but this was sometimes as much a matter of spite and rivalry as consensus, and recall too that Miles (for example) hated the term jazz, and nevertheless wasn’t able to stop its use.

    3: no, I’m not really sure I agree with this. The stabilisation almost certainly arrived as a consequence of radio, with its need to signalling to its listeners: swing was a big and popular word for the kinds of things people liked to hear on radio (basically meaning dance music, some of it we’d call jazz, some not); you named your record so it aimed itself at the right kind of consumer.

    Soloing at length moved from being an after-hours pastime in the late 30s and early 40s among swing musicians amusing themselves (and a tiny number of punters), to something that a fairly narrow and specialist band of record labels picked up on, to something that the new-fangled LPs could support and encourage: the hipster name for it was bop or bebop, but the records didn’t reflect this (they were sought out by the cognoscenti looking for names; they were also all 78s, of course). Once 33s landed, the favoured generic terms for attracting the correct purchasers by then were “progressive jazz” and “cool jazz”. But alongside the fashion for bop, there was a significant post-war retro wave, a return to Hot Jazz and 20s Jazz (which never featured long solos). (The key titling word in Armstrong’s 50s LPs seems to be “concerts”; ditto Ellington.) The important dividing line in record marketing after the 50s was between singles and albums: this was a conscious decision and plan by the record companies, as much as anything as a way to get people to buy into the new formats (45s and 33s) and (to some extent) to to re-buy material they already had. (This is partly why the retro wave happened; and I think also why Armstrong and Ellington sold their records as “concerts” — they were now promoting 40-odd minutes of music, as opposed to 3-4 minutes.) (And see below re ASCAP etc.)*

    4: I think Dinah Washington would still today be called a jazz singer; perhaps not so much these days a blues singer (tho she called herself the Queen of Blues). There was a wave of high end improvising and scat singers, Sarah Vaughan and Ella Fitzgerald most obviously, who somewhat redefined what jazz singing was going to be (i.e. much more “instrumentral” in approach); this technique hadn’t existed earlier). Fitzgerald popularised the term “songbook”, basically as a concept album approach to the interpretation of name songwriters (Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern and so on). Billie Holiday is arguably the least “jazz” of the three; her autobiography was called Lady Sings the Blues.

    Is Sinatra a jazz singer? I think I’d conclude that the terminological rules work differently when it comes to singers. And that’s partly because (at some point), jazz definitely started to imply “instrumental except in particular circumstances”). Nat King Cole pretty much switched careers, from a jazz pianist to a popular singer (“rarely playing in a jazz setting after 1950,” writes Richard Cook in his Penguin Guide to Jazz Recordings). Some of the reason for this divide was I suspect simply practical: the musics increasingly existed on different circuits, maintained by different bureaucracies at the labels and the radio and Tv stations, and (on the whole) supported by different listenerships.

    *(As well as the marketing divide created by 33 vs 45, and the niche-targeting tactics of radio, there was also a division created by the BMI vs ASCAP wars — in other words by rival royalty agencies — during the musicians’ strikes in the 40s: if this were a chapter in my still-subterranean, never-actually-abandoned history of music and technology, I’d probably — only semi-trollingly — be arguing that institutions are shaped by the incompatibility of technologies, and that terminology is largely shaped by both; that, in other words, the apparent narrowing and stabilisation of terms follows on from the fact that a 45 can never be a 33 and vice versa)

  29. 30

    Of course by the late 60s, “rock” is the word of wide as-yet-undefined potential, and jazz is increasingly defined against it, limited as its successor expands or anyway seems to

    (Among other things, Bitches Brew is an attempt by Miles to refuse to be making a music defined against rock).

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