Back when I was around 15 years old and was about three years into record collecting, I was a bit of a misfit teenager in middle school at the time. I was not the popular kid and often was even persecuted by my peers for just being who I was. I found a great deal of comfort in the vintage big band music I collected, as well as in classic jazz in general. Beyond the records though, my interest also permeated other areas of my life, including my reading material. One day in the library at Romney Junior High School, I stumbled across a very interesting little novel that was written in 1965 by renown jazz writer and critic Nat Hentoff, and the book was entitled Jazz Country. It was a sort of coming-of-age story of a young White middle-class teenager named Tom Curtis, who has a passion for jazz, and when he finally gets to experience the jazz culture of Harlem's Black community, he faces many challenges about his music, as well as being a White kid "digging" a music that was considered primarily the domain of Blacks. Tom really loves jazz, and plays trumpet himself, but his new Black friends note he is missing something - he has no real life experience to communicate who and what he is (called "the blues") and Tom quickly finds out he has a lot to learn, both in the world of jazz and in basic life experience. At the time I read this book initially, I was a poor out-of-sorts White kid from the Appalachians, and while on one hand, I identified with Tom, on the other I also identified with his Black friends, many of whom had to overcome some big challenges to get where they were, and some were still struggling. The book was also written at the dawn of the Civil Rights era too when a lot of racial tension and other things gripped the country. As Hentoff writes though, the problem was not just with "racist White folks," but even some Blacks (personified by the character of Mary Hitchcock in the book) harbored their own brand of racism too. After almost forgetting about the book over the years, a few years back I came across a copy of it on Amazon for less than a buck and purchased it. It has set on my bookshelf for a while until I decided to pull it out and give it another read this past week. There are a few insights I wanted to share that I gained from the second reading of that little book, but first a little about Nat Hentoff, the author.
Nat Hentoff (1925-2017)
Nat Hentoff, as I mentioned before, is renown among record collectors and jazz enthusiasts as being one of the most prolific jazz critics and historians - he ranks up there with the likes of people like Leonard Feather, George T. Simon, and Richard Sudhalter. I have been familiar with him for years, as he has written extensively on jazz and vintage big bands, and his work can also be found on the liner notes of many classic jazz albums over the years as well. But, there was another side to Nat Hentoff too, as he was also somewhat socially conservative in his political and social outlook, and he was a staunch advocate for both the sanctity of life as well as for free speech. His involvement with the pro-life movement, as a matter of fact, has made me respect his legacy even more, and although technically an atheist of Jewish heritage, he is also truly what America was all about at one time. He also embodied the true legacy of Martin Luther King's vision as far as civil rights, and he was opposed to the tyranny of "political correctness" and its related ills over the past couple of decades. Interesting enough, you can even see this in his writing even back in 1965, as many of those convictions shine through in Jazz Country.
Getting back to Jazz Country, I wanted to write today about several observations I am gleaning from my journal entries last week, as there is a lot to cover. The book itself has a goldmine of practical wisdom that really could apply to any life situation, and as that skinny White jazz-loving kid myself who read that book at the age of 15, I connect with both Tom and the fictional jazzman Moses Godfrey - I had a lot to learn at that age, but I also had my own "blues" even then as I was a poor disadvantaged kid who had a lot of "scuffs and dirt on my shoes," to use the book's metaphor. However, let's talk about how Hentoff and others viewed jazz - for people like Hentoff and later Richard Sudhalter, jazz was an American art form which was not the exclusive domain of Blacks, although their contribution cannot be underestimated either. Jazz could be seen as a sort of icon of the "melting pot" that is America, and it is that premise which is a major reason why writers like Hentoff, who was an enthusiastic participant in the Civil Rights movement of the time, could easily be part of that while at the same time making a stand for what is considered more conservative issues such as free speech and the right to life. Hentoff rightly saw these various issues as being one and the same rather than opposed to each other (a sentiment that MLK's surviving relatives share, as did Bill Cosby and others). As Hentoff's Wikipedia bio states, he was often more socially conservative on many issues than he was liberal, despite him being confessionally atheist and sort of the archetype of the "progressive" intellectual. And, his stands on these things mirror mine, and I find myself appreciating Hentoff not just as a jazz writer, but as a person too, due to the fact the man actually knew how to think rather than being a shill for the Establishment. One of the things that reflects this in Jazz Country is the fact that Hentoff is trying to get across via a fictional story that racism is not just a White man's problem, but that Blacks and others are just as guilty of it at times. If more people knew of Hentoff's book, as a matter of fact, it would probably be branded as "hate speech" by the loony Leftists running their mouths about this stuff today. The character in the book that best personifies this is Mary Hitchcock, who is the somewhat militant wife of Godfrey's bassist Bill Hitchcock. Mary comes across as bigoted, nasty, and her condescension of Tom in the book just makes the reader want to slap her upside the head for being a nasty skank. However, there is a good side to this as well - as the book progresses, Mary begins to be educated, and at the end, she actually appreciates Tom and they become close. That now leads me into a brief discussion of one of the pivotal characters of the book, Moses Godfrey.
When one reads the book, if that reader is a jazz aficionado, they pick up quickly on the fact that Hentoff's development of Moses Godfrey as a character is based on jazz legend Thelonious Monk. Like Monk, Godfrey is eccentric, and he even imitates in his performances many of Monk's characteristics such as getting up from the piano and dancing a jig if the mood hit him. Godfrey is, like Monk, also unfettered by convention, and at this point, his character takes on a bit of another jazz legend as well, Duke Ellington. Like the Duke, Godfrey is contemplative and somewhat philosophical, as well as speaking eloquently and getting across points in a quiet manner. He is the type of character you would love to get to know, but at the same time, he's also a bit intimidating too, being somewhat impervious to the hero-worship of his young fans. His responses to certain things, as a matter of fact, can come off somewhat offensive and humbling, although this is not the anticipated intent of Godfrey's character. His real intent, as you continue reading, is to gauge how serious the person he is talking to is.
I want to cite a couple of examples of the above now, with the first one being on page 9 of the book. Tom and his friend Mike are situated outside the Savoy Ballroom where Godfrey's combo is playing - they are obviously not allowed inside due to age, but they can catch some of the music. Godfrey comes out with his bass player Bill Hitchcock between sets, and Tom is able to engage him. The first question - a rather innocent one by normal standards - that Tom asks is if Godfrey's group is coming out with a new record soon, to which he gets this answer - "What is soon?" The semantics of the word "soon" then initiates a philosophical discourse from Godfrey, who turns to Hitchcock and asks, "If I told you that your arm is going to fall off next year, would that be soon?" To which Hitchcock replies, bemusedly (he has been down this road before!), "Too soon." Then, a second question: "But, if I told you there'd be no money this week; maybe soon, but not this week, would that be soon enough?" Hitchcock, knowing now where this is going, answers that it would be soon enough to report Godfrey to the musician's union. Out of all that, as the conversation continues, Godfrey is making the point to young Tom that he needs to clarify what he means by "soon," as one context may not mean the same in a different context. The wisdom that is ingrained here is somewhat profound when you reflect upon it, but then it continues in the next couple of chapters of the book. Forward to page 33, when Tom asks how a rich White woman (a socialite jazz enthusiast in her mid-50's named Veronica in this case) could gain acceptance in Black jazz circles, Hitchcock responds by saying it is by "being herself," but that abruptly rouses the catnapping Godfrey and he embarks on another interesting discourse. Godfrey chastises Hitchcock for that answer by using the metaphor of "a tailor weaving the emperor's clothes," which references an old fairy tale. The problem Godfrey has with Hitchcock's answer was that it was a generality, and Godfrey expounds on that by noting that "self" is a multiplicity rather than a singularity - he notes that one is a certain "self" in one context, but then another "self" in a different situation. The idea here is that all of these various "selves" are different dimensions of one's identity, and one cannot be a "whole self" in every situation - you cannot be everything to everyone, and likewise, you cannot be everything you are to everyone in every situation either. I got what that was saying also, in that, for example, a sense of decorum dictates what you reveal about yourself to others in a given circumstance. For instance, if you are in the workplace, it is not appropriate to walk around in one's "tighty-whities" or discuss a religious experience or your passioned political views. If you are at home, you also may not be able to display aspects of yourself even to one's spouse that maybe you can express when you are alone. All of these are what Godfrey is getting at by different "selves." It just means, therefore, that while on one hand, you do only have one identity, the way that identity is expressed is determinate upon the setting one is in. There is tremendous wisdom in that too. So, if you are one person in the workplace and someone different in your social media accounts, does that make you a split personality? Not at all - it means you are your true self when you manifest what is proper to a given situation, that is all. That is the crux of what Godfrey is really saying in the book. In the case of music then, which this whole conversation in the story comes back to, the question Godfrey has for young Tom is this - when you play, what do you say? Music means more when it expresses the true self, rather than trying to imitate someone else, at which point it will become artificial and contributes nothing of you. I guess that is fundamental to Jazz Improvisation 101.
Moving on to page 35, Hentoff devotes a chapter of Godfrey telling the story of his mentor "Big Charlie," who was a blind Black blues singer in 1930's Texas somewhere that Godfrey as a young "Carnie" had run into. There are many twists and turns in this storyline that really pique the imagination. Godfrey, who was born to a single mother in a broken home in the Bronx in the early 1900s, later was sent to an aunt who proved to be overly controlling and somewhat mean to the young Godfrey, so he left home to work with a traveling carnival. It is at this point, on his off-time from working at the carnival, that he encounters "Big Charlie," and it turns out there is more to Charlie's story than his rough outward appearance dictates. Charlie lives in this shack, but the inside of it is actually quite palatial, and he invites Moses in for a visit with him. As Moses gets to know Charlie and comes to be close to him, he learns that the real instrument Charlie mastered was a little flute that is one of his cherished possessions. When he first picks up on young Godfrey's marveling over his house, he says, "Ain't no reason why an old blind Black man can't have comfort, is there?" The flute itself, as Charlie later confides, is a type of therapeutic release for him, and this reveals to the young Moses Godfrey another lesson - externals may not reveal who a true person is. Charlie then has the young Moses go out with him and observe people at a local tavern, and when they return to Charlie's place he has Moses describe the people he observed - the profundity of this would take volumes to really examine, because Moses's initial impressions of various people were all wrong and didn't reveal much due to the focus on externals. A man, for instance, who appeared to be loud and boisterous was actually a pretty decent individual, while a more quiet, sedate guy was actually one not to trust. The cliche lesson from this is that one cannot judge a book by its cover, which leads to some of my own insights now.
The story of "Big Charlie" speaks a lot about human nature - we tend to judge people by externals without knowing the true story of who they are, and even Scripture condemns doing that. In Matthew 7:1, an oft-misquoted verse in this day and age is found; it says simply "don't judge unless you are judged," and looking at what it says, it really will make one think. The way this verse is misapplied so often in today's society is to often justify sinful behavior, but that is not the context of what it actually means. Rather, it is more of a warning against gossip, stereotypes, and related behavior, or the whole "bearing false witness" idea that is prohibited by the Decalogue. Many people wrongly (and also traditionally in many cases) attribute that verse to the sin of lying, but it, in reality, has nothing to do with a mere lie. While lying is a sin and is wrong, the sin that both the Commandment and the verse in Matthew 7:1 are referring to are one and the same - it is gossip and hearsay, which to be fair can have its genesis in a lie, and thus is in reference to false judgments based on said hearsay. We are all guilty at some point of this if we are completely honest with ourselves, as we are quick to draw conclusions based on externals, but appearances can be deceiving so it requires digging a little deeper to get to the truth. Recalling a few years back an incident that happened to Jase Robertson, of "Duck Dynasty" fame, when he was escorted out of the Trump Hotel for being a vagrant, we see what faulty judgment results in. In appearances that could be an easy conclusion, as Jase had a full beard, long hair, and dresses like a hunter in the woods. But, the real Jase is a celebrity who is also well-educated and devoutly Christian, which establishes that there was more to Jase than first impressions could ascertain. "Big Charlie's" message to a young Moses Godfrey in Hentoff's novel is a similar observation - bottom line, if you have the fortitude to look past externals, a rich story with valuable insight awaits. I can also speak from experience that basing things on mere externals at first impressions can later come back to bite you as well - that person you may have spurned and misjudged may end up being your "good Samaritan" when you are personally in a bind. That has happened on occasion with me, and it can be humbling. But, it also can be the start of a new and lasting friendship with that person as well. Although you may initially feel like a jackass for misjudging such a person, it has a good ending to the story. That is another reason why a Scripture passage such as Matthew 7:1 is important. Many people this day and age would benefit from a healthy dose of this too, and I have a couple of in-laws in particular who would benefit from the lessons afforded by that. These particular in-laws are noted for being judgmental and condescending to those they feel are not "their caliber," and then they do the double-standard of spouting off religious talk and acting sanctimoniously. Those types, like my offending in-laws, could use exposure to a guy like "Big Charlie," as they may actually learn something and be a bit humbled. I am not going to waste a lot of time ragging on my jackass in-laws - they are in God's hands, so he'll deal with them - but suffice to say their judgmentalism has more or less invalidated any Christian witness they have to those they treat with contempt without getting to know them better.
To summarize thus far, the fictional character of Moses Godfrey has taught us three important lessons:
1. Clarify what you say, as a notion such as "soon" can have a lot of applications.
2. "Be yourself" is likewise ambiguous, and there needs to be a determination of which "self" one is to be and how it reflects on the true self of the person.
3. Do not judge a person by externals, as more is under the surface.
"Blues," one's story, and the more academic subject we have touched on elsewhere of CNC's all communicate the importance of the personal "story" we each have. That story is unique to us, as we have the unique experiences that shape it, and there is no such thing as a uniform experience although we may share certain universal affinities with others (including ethnic, regional, cultural, etc.). These things are not to be confused with core convictions, although they play a role in shaping those also, they are vital in self-discovery and who we are as an individual. So, what do I mean by that? Simply, societal factors are formative, but not the form themselves - a huge difference. This means that the "story" as it were determines which "self" one is in a given situation. We don't reveal everything about our whole selves to everyone in every place, but our whole selves are carried with us regardless. That is where Moses Godfrey's character was going in his soliloquies in the book. Another way to say it is this - it is possible that one can be the true self they were created as without being their full self. It boils down to plain honesty with discretion, simply put. This begs the question if anyone can be one's whole self at all? God possibly can, as he is omnipotent, omniscient, transcendent, and omnipresent, so he knows the whole self of his own as well as ours, as he designed each of us as we are. What about a spouse? To be completely honest, a husband and wife cannot truly be their full selves with each other at any given time, and there are two reasons for that. One, there are parts of our real selves we don't even know, or if we do, we are not sure how to communicate them. Secondly - and I am saying this after 27 years of marriage myself - a husband and wife don't know everything about each other automatically - as enjoyable and special as the conjugal union on the wedding night is, there is no magical enlightenment entailed with it, nor is it supposed to be so. These things take time, and as a couple matures in their marital bond, they begin to understand each other better. Even within the context of the sacramental bond of matrimony, human nature is still limited to a degree, and this means that there may be undiscovered dimensions of the "full self" a spouse may not even know about themselves, much less about the other partner in the union. Still too, many things will go to the grave without revelation, and of course the old axiom "dead men tell no tales" applies as well there. A couple will know more about each other at their 50th anniversary than they did at their courtship, but they may never know everything about each other. But, that may be the way it is supposed to be anyway, a thought for another time.
Back to some further thoughts on the word "soon" as well, the word "soon" is at best an ambiguous response, and to be honest it is never the best answer for anything as it can mean almost anything. The answer "soon" begs another question - the word "when." "Soon" can mean seconds or years, and it is ultimately the opposite of the word "later," which is equally ambiguous honestly. This means the two words are at risk of being used interchangeably as well, as "soon" often is "later." That whole concept can prove frustrating, especially when a situation demands urgency. Godfrey therefore in the book was right to ask young Tom what he meant when he asked about when Godfrey was releasing an album soon. Godfrey could have given Tom a straight answer for sure, but he didn't because he saw the ambiguity of Tom's question and wanted to use the occasion as a lesson for young Tom. I definitely learned from it, to be sure!
Now, lesson #3 - not judging from externals. While "judge not a book by its cover" is an apt application of this principle, another is "appearances can be deceiving." Over the years, I've noted this many times in ways both surprising and disappointing. In surprising ways, often it is a person I misjudged as weird or somehow offensive to me for some stupid reason ending up being a person I gained great respect for and then I later feel like a jackass (as I should) for wrongly initially judging them. It also can be disappointing, though, in that there are people who leave a good initial impression but later turn out to be people you wished you'd never met once you really get to know them. I have been on both ends of that spectrum. One area where this resonates particularly obvious is in religious circles, in that often the people who tend to shout "Hallelujah!" at everything and use Jesus as a point of reference in everything from a lottery win to a good bowel movement, or prefacing their addressing everyone they meet as "Brother This" or "Sister That," but when their true character emerges, they end up being obnoxious jackasses as well. A person who tries to overcompensate by expressing the "religious act" is often trying to "prove" their Christianity, and that is first off not necessary but also it reveals a lot about such people too. It is the quieter religious person who crosses themselves discreetly at meals and makes his or her faith known in a low-key way who is more impressive to me. Why is that? If you have true faith, you simply have nothing to prove to anyone, and thus you don't need to trumpet it with speech peppered with "Christianese" and calling everyone "Brother" or "Sister." You don't call your biological siblings "Brother Bob" or "Sister Sue" do you? Well, you don't need to do that with your Christian brethren either - they'll figure it out whether you are "part of the family" or not, believe me!
At the time I was reflecting on Jazz Country in my journal, I felt the urge to listen to some Thelonious Monk. I got a CD reissue of Monk's landmark 1963 Columbia LP Monk's Dream, and the title cut of the album is one of my all-time favorite classic jazz recordings. The early 1960's, for classic jazz, was an age of pianists - Monk, Vince Guaraldi, Brubeck, and others were making some great records at that time. One other album from around the same time featured who was then a young pianist named Herbie Hancock, and the 1965 LP was Maiden Voyage. The talk in Hentoff's novel about "letting the music speak" applies well to the title cut of that LP, as everytime I hear it I am taken back to those days when I was fresh out of high school and spending my summers in Brunswick, GA, with my dad - one thing I liked to do then was go over to St. Simons and Jekyll Islands fishing or just walking around, and Hancock's recording transports you to the scene where you can smell the ocean, hear the seagulls squawking, and see the sunlight on those summer afternoons. You feel the calm, see the sand of the beach, and even can envision dolphins and large rays leaping out of the water in the distance. It evokes simpler times for me in other words, which is one reason I really appreciate that record. On the original 1965 release of Maiden Voyage, Hancock is a mere 25 years old, and he features another young up-and-coming trumpeter who would 5 years later release a landmark album of his own that ushered in jazz fusion by the name of Freddy Hubbard. Hubbard's 1970 LP Red Clay is also one I have in my collection, and despite the fact I personally am not a big fan of jazz fusion, Hubbard's album is fresh and innovative for its time. What Hancock's Maiden Voyage exemplifies for me is that it embodies truly what was the last generation of true classic jazz legends, and bookending that era was the young trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, who is for me the last true classic jazz artist of innovation (many of Marsalis's albums were released during my middle school years in the mid-1980s, not long after the time I started collecting records). The important thing in my mention of those old classic jazz records is that they also take me back to a place when I was young as well. Talking about the various "selves" we manifest reminded me of something also - although I am definitely by all definitions a political conservative and a religious traditionalist, I also have that underlying eccentric and nonconformist streak that defines a certain aspect of my identity too. I have been a fan of classic jazz for at least 40 years now, and although I primarily focus on vintage big bands (which although intersecting with classic jazz, the big bands are more than that for sure), I also appreciate good classic jazz. As a matter of fact, up until the mid-1940's or so, jazz and big bands were pretty much entwined with each other, until a group of young jazz musicians starting around 1944 or so began to evolve a separate identity out of the big band setting (although some of this new jazz was played masterfully by big bands too, granted) - they included people like Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, Gerry Mulligan, Thelonious Monk, and others. These new jazz pioneers - the style was called "Bebop" - began to move the focus away from the big dance band format to small groups, and they also went beyond dance music to embody innovation and experimentation. That type of jazz - which later also manifested as "cool," "third stream," and "fusion" - persisted until the mid-1980's when the tragedy happened. A series of musical abominations with names such as Chuck Mangione, Al Jarreau, and Kenny G came along with a monstrosity called "smooth jazz," and at that point, classic jazz went the way of the dinosaur. What is called "smooth jazz" is, in reality, nothing more than Muzak with a backbeat and saxophones, and it has nothing to do with true jazz. Modern "jazz" stations today are mostly slick commercialized FM venues that play crap like Kenny G, which is so lacking in innovation and originality that it has essentially become sterile rock music honestly. It is artificial, overly-electronic, over-commercialized, and has nothing in common with great legends like Miles, Bird, or Dizzy. To use jazz lingo, I just don't "dig" this "smooth jazz" jive because it is what used to be called "square" and "vanilla." That being said, I also consider classic jazz to be Western Civilization's last true art form, and although there are those who carry on the legacy (Vince Giordano comes to mind, and thank God for him and those like him!) it has been relegated to a small community of aficionados like myself. Classical music likewise has declined, although there are fortunately young talented composers like my friend Adam Gilberti who still embody the continuation of the legacy of serious musical composition and performance. But, for the most part, classic jazz has had its run - thankfully though it leaves behind a rich recorded legacy for those who appreciate it to keep it alive and preserved. And it is in the hands of those of us who do appreciate those legacies to preserve them, and I try to do my part in doing so.
That concludes a lengthy number of insights I had today that I have reflected on over the past couple of weeks, and I hope to see you all again soon.
To summarize thus far, the fictional character of Moses Godfrey has taught us three important lessons:
1. Clarify what you say, as a notion such as "soon" can have a lot of applications.
2. "Be yourself" is likewise ambiguous, and there needs to be a determination of which "self" one is to be and how it reflects on the true self of the person.
3. Do not judge a person by externals, as more is under the surface.
"Blues," one's story, and the more academic subject we have touched on elsewhere of CNC's all communicate the importance of the personal "story" we each have. That story is unique to us, as we have the unique experiences that shape it, and there is no such thing as a uniform experience although we may share certain universal affinities with others (including ethnic, regional, cultural, etc.). These things are not to be confused with core convictions, although they play a role in shaping those also, they are vital in self-discovery and who we are as an individual. So, what do I mean by that? Simply, societal factors are formative, but not the form themselves - a huge difference. This means that the "story" as it were determines which "self" one is in a given situation. We don't reveal everything about our whole selves to everyone in every place, but our whole selves are carried with us regardless. That is where Moses Godfrey's character was going in his soliloquies in the book. Another way to say it is this - it is possible that one can be the true self they were created as without being their full self. It boils down to plain honesty with discretion, simply put. This begs the question if anyone can be one's whole self at all? God possibly can, as he is omnipotent, omniscient, transcendent, and omnipresent, so he knows the whole self of his own as well as ours, as he designed each of us as we are. What about a spouse? To be completely honest, a husband and wife cannot truly be their full selves with each other at any given time, and there are two reasons for that. One, there are parts of our real selves we don't even know, or if we do, we are not sure how to communicate them. Secondly - and I am saying this after 27 years of marriage myself - a husband and wife don't know everything about each other automatically - as enjoyable and special as the conjugal union on the wedding night is, there is no magical enlightenment entailed with it, nor is it supposed to be so. These things take time, and as a couple matures in their marital bond, they begin to understand each other better. Even within the context of the sacramental bond of matrimony, human nature is still limited to a degree, and this means that there may be undiscovered dimensions of the "full self" a spouse may not even know about themselves, much less about the other partner in the union. Still too, many things will go to the grave without revelation, and of course the old axiom "dead men tell no tales" applies as well there. A couple will know more about each other at their 50th anniversary than they did at their courtship, but they may never know everything about each other. But, that may be the way it is supposed to be anyway, a thought for another time.
Back to some further thoughts on the word "soon" as well, the word "soon" is at best an ambiguous response, and to be honest it is never the best answer for anything as it can mean almost anything. The answer "soon" begs another question - the word "when." "Soon" can mean seconds or years, and it is ultimately the opposite of the word "later," which is equally ambiguous honestly. This means the two words are at risk of being used interchangeably as well, as "soon" often is "later." That whole concept can prove frustrating, especially when a situation demands urgency. Godfrey therefore in the book was right to ask young Tom what he meant when he asked about when Godfrey was releasing an album soon. Godfrey could have given Tom a straight answer for sure, but he didn't because he saw the ambiguity of Tom's question and wanted to use the occasion as a lesson for young Tom. I definitely learned from it, to be sure!
Now, lesson #3 - not judging from externals. While "judge not a book by its cover" is an apt application of this principle, another is "appearances can be deceiving." Over the years, I've noted this many times in ways both surprising and disappointing. In surprising ways, often it is a person I misjudged as weird or somehow offensive to me for some stupid reason ending up being a person I gained great respect for and then I later feel like a jackass (as I should) for wrongly initially judging them. It also can be disappointing, though, in that there are people who leave a good initial impression but later turn out to be people you wished you'd never met once you really get to know them. I have been on both ends of that spectrum. One area where this resonates particularly obvious is in religious circles, in that often the people who tend to shout "Hallelujah!" at everything and use Jesus as a point of reference in everything from a lottery win to a good bowel movement, or prefacing their addressing everyone they meet as "Brother This" or "Sister That," but when their true character emerges, they end up being obnoxious jackasses as well. A person who tries to overcompensate by expressing the "religious act" is often trying to "prove" their Christianity, and that is first off not necessary but also it reveals a lot about such people too. It is the quieter religious person who crosses themselves discreetly at meals and makes his or her faith known in a low-key way who is more impressive to me. Why is that? If you have true faith, you simply have nothing to prove to anyone, and thus you don't need to trumpet it with speech peppered with "Christianese" and calling everyone "Brother" or "Sister." You don't call your biological siblings "Brother Bob" or "Sister Sue" do you? Well, you don't need to do that with your Christian brethren either - they'll figure it out whether you are "part of the family" or not, believe me!
At the time I was reflecting on Jazz Country in my journal, I felt the urge to listen to some Thelonious Monk. I got a CD reissue of Monk's landmark 1963 Columbia LP Monk's Dream, and the title cut of the album is one of my all-time favorite classic jazz recordings. The early 1960's, for classic jazz, was an age of pianists - Monk, Vince Guaraldi, Brubeck, and others were making some great records at that time. One other album from around the same time featured who was then a young pianist named Herbie Hancock, and the 1965 LP was Maiden Voyage. The talk in Hentoff's novel about "letting the music speak" applies well to the title cut of that LP, as everytime I hear it I am taken back to those days when I was fresh out of high school and spending my summers in Brunswick, GA, with my dad - one thing I liked to do then was go over to St. Simons and Jekyll Islands fishing or just walking around, and Hancock's recording transports you to the scene where you can smell the ocean, hear the seagulls squawking, and see the sunlight on those summer afternoons. You feel the calm, see the sand of the beach, and even can envision dolphins and large rays leaping out of the water in the distance. It evokes simpler times for me in other words, which is one reason I really appreciate that record. On the original 1965 release of Maiden Voyage, Hancock is a mere 25 years old, and he features another young up-and-coming trumpeter who would 5 years later release a landmark album of his own that ushered in jazz fusion by the name of Freddy Hubbard. Hubbard's 1970 LP Red Clay is also one I have in my collection, and despite the fact I personally am not a big fan of jazz fusion, Hubbard's album is fresh and innovative for its time. What Hancock's Maiden Voyage exemplifies for me is that it embodies truly what was the last generation of true classic jazz legends, and bookending that era was the young trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, who is for me the last true classic jazz artist of innovation (many of Marsalis's albums were released during my middle school years in the mid-1980s, not long after the time I started collecting records). The important thing in my mention of those old classic jazz records is that they also take me back to a place when I was young as well. Talking about the various "selves" we manifest reminded me of something also - although I am definitely by all definitions a political conservative and a religious traditionalist, I also have that underlying eccentric and nonconformist streak that defines a certain aspect of my identity too. I have been a fan of classic jazz for at least 40 years now, and although I primarily focus on vintage big bands (which although intersecting with classic jazz, the big bands are more than that for sure), I also appreciate good classic jazz. As a matter of fact, up until the mid-1940's or so, jazz and big bands were pretty much entwined with each other, until a group of young jazz musicians starting around 1944 or so began to evolve a separate identity out of the big band setting (although some of this new jazz was played masterfully by big bands too, granted) - they included people like Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, Gerry Mulligan, Thelonious Monk, and others. These new jazz pioneers - the style was called "Bebop" - began to move the focus away from the big dance band format to small groups, and they also went beyond dance music to embody innovation and experimentation. That type of jazz - which later also manifested as "cool," "third stream," and "fusion" - persisted until the mid-1980's when the tragedy happened. A series of musical abominations with names such as Chuck Mangione, Al Jarreau, and Kenny G came along with a monstrosity called "smooth jazz," and at that point, classic jazz went the way of the dinosaur. What is called "smooth jazz" is, in reality, nothing more than Muzak with a backbeat and saxophones, and it has nothing to do with true jazz. Modern "jazz" stations today are mostly slick commercialized FM venues that play crap like Kenny G, which is so lacking in innovation and originality that it has essentially become sterile rock music honestly. It is artificial, overly-electronic, over-commercialized, and has nothing in common with great legends like Miles, Bird, or Dizzy. To use jazz lingo, I just don't "dig" this "smooth jazz" jive because it is what used to be called "square" and "vanilla." That being said, I also consider classic jazz to be Western Civilization's last true art form, and although there are those who carry on the legacy (Vince Giordano comes to mind, and thank God for him and those like him!) it has been relegated to a small community of aficionados like myself. Classical music likewise has declined, although there are fortunately young talented composers like my friend Adam Gilberti who still embody the continuation of the legacy of serious musical composition and performance. But, for the most part, classic jazz has had its run - thankfully though it leaves behind a rich recorded legacy for those who appreciate it to keep it alive and preserved. And it is in the hands of those of us who do appreciate those legacies to preserve them, and I try to do my part in doing so.
That concludes a lengthy number of insights I had today that I have reflected on over the past couple of weeks, and I hope to see you all again soon.
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