| August 2001 Jazz
It didn’t take long into that first listen to get my sluggish, rock-oriented mind to realize that Kind of Blue was music I hadn’t anticipated as well as music that was going to profoundly change my musical universe. What I heard therein was at once inspired and yet intellectual. It forced me to use my mind as well as my ears in its enjoyment, as rock had increasingly stopped doing as the '70s turned into the '80s. The freedom, improvisation and, most importantly, the feelings put into the music reminded me of the rock I grew up on. I was amazed that music written both before and around the time of my birth could sound so vital and alive some 30 years later (remember, I’m talking mid '80s here). I was hooked. I also found that there was a reason many people called jazz America’s classical music. To understand just what it is that I mean by that statement, we’re going to have to examine just what the term classical music means. Classical music was not written and performed just for the wealthy or well-to-do (as it may seem to be today); it was written with the people of the day fixed firmly in mind. Most composers, say until 1800, had to be under the financial protection of wealthy patrons for their survival. But even though they wrote music for those patrons (who were, after all, paying the freight), they knew that to keep their music alive, it would have to be played for, as well as appeal to, the common man. A good example of such a composer was Handel. His Music For The Royal Fireworks was intended to please both the king, who helped support him, as well as the general population that brought him the fame he so craved. (And if you take issue with this statement, ask yourself why Handel never returned home to Germany after experiencing success in England.) Another example is Mozart’s opera The Magic Flute, today a staple of any opera company. It was written almost exclusively for the commoners of Vienna. Classical music expressed the feelings of the times, the desires of the composers, just as jazz did in this country.
One of the tools I bought early on to help me on my search was the Smithsonian Guide to Classic Jazz, a six-album boxed set that also comes, for those of you turntableless, in a CD version. It included work by many of the aforementioned artists, as well as many, many others. The boxed set includes not only the records (or CDs) but also a very informative booklet that gives insights into the music as well as the artists. This set is just a superb help to the jazz neophyte, as well as a reference for the seasoned veteran. I highly recommend it, especially to those of you who don’t know (or don’t think) you’ll like jazz. It’s given me quite a number of optional directions to explore, as well as opening my eyes and ears even further as to the merits of my new musical discoveries. There is also a Smithsonian boxed set of big-band music, which I also have and recommend. About the only unfortunate thing I’ve discovered about getting into jazz these days, if you are a vinyl lover that is (CD fans can skip this part, but only to an extent), is the cost and availability of original jazz albums. By and large, the original pressing of a jazz record (or any other type of music for that matter) is the best, and sometimes the only way of hearing the music at its sonic peak. And original albums from the early days are EXPENSIVE. Even with the Internet, original albums in very good to excellent condition, especially Blue Notes, can put a serious dent in your wallet -- that is, if you can afford them at all. Availability is another problem. Finding what you want on vinyl in a condition good enough to allow you to hear what’s on the record can be very, very hard (and this is where you CD devotees should start paying attention; not all the albums YOU might want to hear are even on CD, and if they are, they are likely early '80s versions with sonic problems). Also, jazz recorded at the beginning of the stereo era (circa 1957-65) is best heard in mono, as that format generally gives superior sound. Early jazz stereo was very much a left-channel/right-channel (occasionally center too) proposition. So what conclusions can be drawn from this missive? That sometimes serendipity can strike by simply opening your ears to a new musical style. And while I would recommend jazz, trying any style not now familiar to you may very well be worth your time and money. Sometimes, you just never know. ...John Crossett GO BACK TO: |
Probably my most
memorable serendipitous musical discovery was the introduction I received to jazz. After
having read (in the mid 1980s) about the Miles Davis album Kind of Blue, I found a
copy, purchased it and gave it a listen to hear what all the hoopla was about. Keep in
mind that up until that point, I was almost strictly a rock-and-roll man, raised on the
music of the late '60s and early '70s (with a slight leaning toward some of the classical
symphonic war-horses). I lived, ate, slept and breathed the music of the times through
such diverse groups as Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young; Frank Zappa & The Mothers Of
Invention, The Beatles, Cream, King Crimson, Steely Dan, Arlo Guthrie, Bob Dylan and
others. My interest in jazz, such as it was, was confined to fusion from the likes of
Jean-Luc Ponty, Stanley Clarke, Billy Cobham, The Mahavishnu Orchestra and Return To
Forever -- groups that had serious elements of rock in their music. 
So you can imagine what a culture shock Kind
of Blue was. I had serious doubts before ever listening as to whether or not I would
like it. To me, jazz was a bunch of guys wailing away at whatever they wanted -- no
melody, no tune, just noise. I bought Kind of Blue mainly for the sound (which was
supposed to be exceptional, from all the talk in the high-end rags). It’s good
to be right even while doing something wrong.
I began almost immediately to hunt down
other Miles Davis albums, as well as ones by the other members of the K.O.B. band,
such as John Coltrane’s Giant Steps and With Johnny Hartman; Cannonball
Adderley’s Something Else and In Chicago Live; Bill Evans' Sunday At
The Village Vanguard and Waltz For Debby. After enjoying these and others, it
wasn’t long before I was listening to other styles of jazz too: swing/big band from
the likes of Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Johnny Hodges, Lester Young and Ben Webster;
be-bop from Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk (yeah, yeah, I know, Monk
wasn’t strictly a be-bopper, but that realization didn’t come until latter);
hard bop by Art Blakey & The Jazz Messengers, Horace Silver, Lee Morgan and Sonny
Rollins; classic jazz by Louis Armstrong and Eddie Conden; and free jazz via Ornette
Coleman and latter-period Coltrane. My jazz collection grew at an alarming rate. What a
wonderful music adventure I had embarked on.