Tag Archives: traditional jazz

Jason Marsalis redux

(more thoughts on jazz nerds, nerdy jazz, and jazz history)

by Peter Hum
Ottawa Citizen
June 15, 2010

On the Los Angeles Times‘ music blog, writer Chris Barton yesterday shared a lengthy message he received from drummer Jason Marsalis, who was keen to move forward in the discussion he sparked with his now-infamous and entertaining Jazz Nerds International rant.

If the whole Jazz Wars topic interests you, I’d advise you to read all that Marsalis wrote — it is strong and opinionated, but more nuanced, thoughtful and stimulating than his detractors might expect. I’ll limit myself to excerpting two passages, and in each case I’ll offer a bit of support for what Marsalis wrote.

First, Marsalis clarifies what he means by jazz nerds in this passage (which I’ve adorned with some bolding for emphasis):

Let’s define a jazz nerd. A jazz nerd, or JNA for short, is a jazz student who reduces all music to notes and concepts only. JNA worships complexity while ridiculing simplicity. JNA will hear groups lead by Dave Holland and Wayne Shorter and will marvel at the complex musical structure but ignore the historical substance behind their music. JNA saxophonists will listen to and worship the music of Mark Turner, Chris Potter, Michael Brecker, and other modern players but ignore the musicians that have influenced their music such as John Coltrane, Dexter Gordon, Warne Marsh, and Sonny Rollins. JNA will hear the music of James Brown and say that it’s no big deal because it only has two chords. JNA looks down on blues as “simple” while wanting to play endless non-melodic eighth and sixteenth notes over All the Things You Are in 7/4 straight feel. By the way, a slow blues is boring. Better yet, swing is actually uninteresting and straight feel is actually more “challenging” and “exciting.” Instead of embracing both, the JNA worships one while ridiculing the other. Speaking of that, 4/4 is “old” while 9/8, on the other hand, is “new.” A basic drum groove is boring unless you fill it with lots of notes. To the JNA, that’s modern music. So to recapitulate, JNA reduces music to as many complex notes as possible while ignoring the simple elements and history behind the notes.

The bolded parts of Marsalis’ essay are consistent with comments I’ve heard from other seasoned jazz musicians, including ones who don’t fall into the neo-conservative camp that many would place Marsalis in.

For example, Canadian saxophonist Jane Bunnett has commented on the historical short-sightedness of jazz students she had encountered. She told me that today’s students “don’t know the history of the music. They know Brad Mehldau, but they don’t know Teddy Wilson. They know Joshua Redman, but they don’t know Dewey Redman.”

Almost identically, Fred Hersch in an interview last week told me that every young pianist he knew wanted to sound like Mehldau, but was not interested in delving deeper into roots of jazz piano, learning about musicians such as Teddy Wilson or Jess Stacy. Hersch said that younger players don’t need to sound like the old giants, but they do need to “internalize” their playing, understand why they played what they did, why they thought they way they thought, and so on.

I’ve had one Canadian jazz educator express similar thoughts in a recent conversation with me. He says he has noticed that especially in the last few years, jazz students are increasingly disinterested in older jazz, which he suggested meant jazz before 1970.

And then there’s my most recent encounter with jazz ignorance. It’s not quite the same thing, in that the musicians were not complexity-loving, straight-8th playing, odd-meter worshipping jazz nerds. However, these young musicians, who are in fact reasonably accomplished, played Invitation at a jam session and because their knowledge of the tune was based on how it appears in The Real Book, they got the form wrong over and over, neglecting to take the book’s so-called coda with every chorus. For their edification, here is Invitation, played correctly.

When Marsalis refers to “nerdy” music that is complex and does not acknowledge the appeal of simplicity and the grounding principles of traditional jazz, I’m reminded of what pianist Frank Kimbrough told me, namely:

One thing I’ve noticed in recent years is music that sounds like it’s conceived and composed with computers, and I’m usually not very fond of it. Much of it is overly clever, and requires musicians to be tied to the paper, which is anathema to me. I want to hear cats listen to each other, not struggle to play a part and not get lost, playing in their own little world, too busy trying to read to listen to anything going on around them. The upside to it is that there are some ridiculously good musicians out here, many of them quite young, who are able to play anything that’s put in from of them, even if they can’t look up from their music stands. But do they listen? If so, great; if not, it doesn’t matter how “good” they are.

Similarly, Hersch last week expressed his disdain for music that he arose when “hip cats are playing hip shit for hip cats.” By that, I think he meant music students playing what Marsalis would regard as jazz-nerd music for music students. I’ve also read a DownBeat article in which Kurt Rosenwinkel, the hero of many a jazz-guitar nerd, make similar statements about what he called “insider jazz.”

How does one get beyond whether the music on the page is nerdy or not? Consider what drummer Matt Wilson told me last year:

My stuff is not too hard… I’m proud of it, actually, they’re easy. I like ‘em easy so that I can see what people can do with them. I’m big into how people can look at something and go with it. And go from there.

Sometimes I’ve played some music that’s more difficult and I find it really satisfying and more challenging…

As long as the music doesn’t get in the way of the musicians, I think it’s pretty cool. But when the music inspires the musicians and gets stuff out of them, it’s really great. That’s what all the good writers and arrangers, all those conceptualists do. They know how to usher people  into an environment and allow them to play with it and see what can occur. I dig that part of it.

Further to his reflections about the lack of interest in jazz history, Marsalis coined another phrase — one that may not be as catchy as “Jazz Nerds International,” but which resonates with me. That phrase is “innovation propaganda,” and Marsalis explains:

if you don’t study the history of jazz, or music for that matter, the good news is that you have an out clause. Jazz magazines and writers created this flavour of Kool-Aid named “innovation,” and when a musician drinks “innovation kool-aid,” you believe the following principles:

1. Jazz has to move forward into the future.
2. We can’t get stuck in the past with hero worship.
3. Swing is old and dated. We have to use the music of today.
4. Jazz is limiting. You must take a chance by bringing in current styles.
5. I don’t care about the past. I have to do my own thing.
6. We’re past playing American songbook standards. That’s yesterday’s music.

To be very brief: I agree with 1 and 2 and the last half of 5, but disagree with 3,4, the first half of 5 and 6. But a few months ago, I wrote this very long post in which I argued that innovation in itself is not the alpha and omega of jazz, and that self-expression and a commitment to beauty on one’s own terms are at least as important for good jazz.

In a related post, I’ve argued that in jazz, personal authenticity matters more than cultural relevance.

The last words (for now) go to two Canadian musicians who gave the Marsalis missive a read and commented on my Facebook page:

Manitoba pianist Michelle Gregoire wrote me:

“OK I read it – I’ve been trying to figure out why the older I get, the more I feel drawn to the earliest pianists and I can just never get enough of the Blues. I find more and more in it, and I can’t get enough…. My music needs to say something, and I think at this age I know what my voice is, and I want it to speak. I’m not worried about the kids too much, cause to me they are just getting some tools together. As they hopefully continue to grow and develop as people, I think their sense of musicality could grow as well. Jason is about the same age as me, so his point of view is certainly interesting. I totally agree — inclusiveness is the trick. Because the more tools the kids have, the more they’ll have to find their voices…each person is a total and unique individual, and not everyone will fit into the boxes people like to create….everyone has the right to find themselves in some way and have the same experience all the greats had when they truly did their thing.

Ottawa-raised, Montreal-based guitarist Steve Raegele, whose beyond-jazz CD, Last Century, I reviewed, wrote:

I think this only matters if you worry about whether people think your music IS jazz. Beyond the pragmatism of playing with musicians with training (which for me means people who at one point played “jazzy jazzer jazz”) I have no need for the jazz litmus test. I can’t really get into his concerns. It’s more of a marketing issue.

Music is has the potential for infinite variation. Worrying about whether it carries the proper number of signifiers of an increasingly vast checklist of past musics is just as ridiculous as asserting that your music need not have any signifiers at all. Music can do whatever the hell it wants. Artists can blend however much or little of the past they choose to. Whether anyone cares to listen is another question, but if the only concern is pleasing people, I think it’s pretty clear what to do. What does one do, however, when this attempt to curry favour with a fickle public falls flat?

Ellis and Jason Marsalis Talk Back

Alex Rawls talks to Ellis and Jason Marsalis about An Open Letter to Thelonious, teaching and traditional jazz. “When you deal with language to describe music, you’ve got a problem,” Ellis says. “I remember talking to a guy who was a player, and he said, ‘I’m really into traditional jazz,’ and he started rhyming off Charlie Parker, Monk, and all these guys.”

by Alex Rawls
offBeat Magazine
April 2008

While we’re talking, Ellis Marsalis takes two calls and ignores another. Spring in New Orleans is a musician’s busiest time, and not only is Marsalis playing the French Quarter Fest and Jazz Fest, but he’s promoting his new album, An Open Letter to Thelonious (ELM). He and Irvin Mayfield also released Love Songs, Ballads and Standards (Basin Street), and today he’s at NOCCA to teach a master class to his son Jason’s students.

An Open Letter to Thelonious is a family affair. Jason plays in Ellis’ quartet, and both contributed liner notes. Ellis recalls the one missed opportunity he had to meet Monk, while Jason analyzes Monk’s sense of rhythm, dubbing him “the first unofficial funk musician.”

We’re in NOCCA’s performance hall, and Jason was talking about his efforts to teach his students to play traditional jazz just before the recorder started. Ellis is talking about his efforts to document traditional jazz that emerged from playing it with a good band.

Ellis: I started to write down all the things we played, each song. I did it over three nights, so I had a pretty good list. I thought about writing out more than a lead sheet, actually the piano accompaniment; now I’m trying to make myself get started on this project. [laughs]

Part of what Jason is talking about is the inability of those who find themselves in a teaching position to get prepared music to present to students from that idiom. The traditional jazz idiom has a lot of music, and it’s structured in such a way that all of the elements of western music are in it—the key signatures, the modulations, the tempo. Now that I’m confessing that [gesturing at the recorder], I’ve got to do it. I don’t think something like that could be done anywhere but New Orleans.

This goes to something I’ve been thinking about for a while—what does it mean to be traditional? How do you best honor a tradition? Does a player have to play in the idiom, or is it in the composition? How is tradition manifested?

Ellis MarsalisEllis: First of all, when you deal with language to describe music, you’ve got a problem. I remember talking to a guy who was a player, and he said, “I’m really into traditional jazz,” and he started rhyming off Charlie Parker, Monk, and all these guys. It’s not his fault if he’s from Detroit or Chicago or L.A. The documentation isn’t set in such a way so that it will allow him to get a complete perspective.

When you think of European art music, the documentation by the various composers over 300, 400 years helps to understand some of that, at least from the 15th Century on. One thing that may be missing is a certain relationship that those composers had to the gypsies. You found references to dances—Hungarian Dance, number this or that or the other. Talk about Rodney Dangerfield, they don’t get no respect! America is a little too young to have that kind of thing happen. If enough of us can start trying to make certain kinds of documentation…

One of the things that was lost in certain kinds of European music—I don’t know how much time after Beethoven—was the ability to improvise. There are stories about when Czerny, who was a student of his, would be turning pages for him and there would be no notes on the page. He hadn’t even written it down. That improvisational process, eventually, they lost.

If it’s still in Europe, maybe it’s over there, but people who learn to play that music here, they go to the conservatory and improvisation isn’t even part of that. I think that as a part of American history, this is a necessary cog in the wheel. I’ve been telling Jason for years, “Whatever you do, write it down. Make some notes.”

I’ve seen some situations where some of the jazz stars have begun to be used in institutions to come in and do workshops. I look at some of them and say, “I don’t want them anywhere near my students.” They play well, but you have to do a certain amount of reflective thinking or what you end up doing is teaching in the abstract, which is why students can’t read, or why they can’t do math.

There are some things we have to do to assist in that process.

Thankfully, there are enough recordings of the earlier music by some of the top players so that can be a great reference point.

I would have to think that over the years, you’ve heard people play traditional jazz and get it wrong.

Ellis: I was one of them. I stood in the driveway with Albert “Papa” French, who played with “Papa” Celestin, and had his own band with his sons, Bob and John. Papa French, said, “Some of you young guys need to play this music because we’re about to lose it.” I said, “Yeah, man. You’re right.”

In my mind, I was thinking, “I don’t want to play that old stuff.” That degree of ignorance was profound with me. Eventually, I’m playing with the Storyville Jazz Band, which is Bob French’s group, at Crazy Shirley’s on St. Peter and Bourbon in the early 1970s—so I wasn’t a spring chicken. I started playing a stride solo and everybody in the band started to laugh. I didn’t know why they were laughing because I was serious. I wasn’t trying to caricature the music. I tried it again and got the same response.

I started to do some research. I went and really listened to Jelly Roll and Willie “the Lion” Smith. I realized these guys have ideas peculiar to this style of music. If you’re going to play this, you’ve got to be involved with those ideas—the rhythm of the ideas, the melody, and all of that. I started working on that. The next time I played a stride solo, I didn’t get the same response, and I realized I was on the right track.

Right around the corner from Crazy Shirley’s was Preservation Hall, and Willie Humphrey and Percy and them would come by on the way to work. Some of those old guys came in one night while I was playing one of those solos, and the guy looks and goes, “Mmmm hmmm, okay,” and I knew just from that gesture that I was on the right track.

Let’s jump forward to the Monk record. I’m always fascinated when a musician approaches another musician’s work. How do you decide which pieces to do?

Ellis: Well in this particular case, Jason was sort of the brains behind most of that. The idea was to approach Monk’s music with a certain kind of groove without tarnishing what Monk had put there. I went through a similar thing with Marcus Roberts, which was a dual-piano thing. We did one or two pieces of Thelonious Monk, and Marcus would say that we have to be very careful that we don’t superimpose our stuff on top of Monk.

We have been talking about doing a Monk record for a long time. Monk’s music is not easy to play and the degree of difficulty is less in technical facility and more in conceptualization of where he was coming from. A lot of what you have to listen to determines the results of what you play.

Jason MarsalisJason: The best description that I read of that was from Orrin Keepnews—and this really put a lot of perspective for me on Monk’s music—he said, “You know, it’s kind of like when you are at a jam session and musicians start playing ‘Blue Monk.’ They solo for about 20 minutes, then they look around and say, ‘What’s the big deal about Monk?'”

There is an essence of Monk’s music in terms of melodic, rhythmic and harmonic formation that should not be taken for granted. It’s easy to take a Monk tune and play over it, but it’s different when you try to play the music and still have the essence of what he was about still there. That’s the challenge when trying to play his music.

The rhythm element is what drew me to Monk first. How he phrased lines. Even inside the phrases, exactly where the notes fell always felt so personal and idiosyncratic.

Jason: He was definitely a master at using rhythm and space. I noticed with his own tunes just how strong the rhythm would be in those melodies.

Who was responsible for the selection of the pieces?

Jason: It was a combination of both. My father brought up the idea of doing a Monk record a while back. I believe what got the ball rolling was when we played this one quartet performance with “Epistrophy.” We played it in a way that was arranged slightly, very subtly. I liked the way it went, and I started thinking maybe we should pursue this album. There were some things that I picked and some things that my father picked.

Was there anything you decided was too him to do, or requires us to move too far, or just did not want to do?

Ellis: Nothing that I can think of. I think what we did on that CD is a pretty fair representation of Monk, in a wider sense. We did “Crepuscule with Nellie”—I wouldn’t even know how to solo off of that. I did decide to do “‘Round Midnight,” but I decided to do that as a piano solo. I messed with that tune and I even thought of forming a string quartet of that tune a long time ago, and I did not get too far.

I think Jason mentioned it in the liner notes about the grooves. There is a story going around about Monk—a guy, a drummer I think, and he was kind of new to Monk’s music. He asked Monk, “What do you want me to do?” Monk said, “Swing.” The guy said, “I understand that, but after that, what then?” “Swing some more.”

So you had the idea of applying specific grooves to Monk?

Jason: The only tune on there, honestly, that I really wanted to do was a tune called “Teo.” A few years ago I heard a recording of this tune on Live at the It Club, and I was first interested in it because I never heard it. No one ever plays it. Monk has written hundreds of tunes and there are a lot of tunes that have slipped through the cracks and are not played very much. I checked it out and I think, okay this isn’t bad, but after eight bars I started hearing a funk groove. So when we decided to do the record, I said this is one tune we have to do.

I recently rehearsed that with some students from here, and I think that my description may have confused the drummer a little bit. I said, “Think Monk and the Roots’ drummer Questlove and the stuff he does with DeAngelo.” I think that threw him off, but really, rhythmically you can do that with a lot of Monk’s tunes.

You talked about playing Monk with Marcus Roberts; he said we have to be careful not to put ourselves all over this. Isn’t part of the business of playing it to find how you interact with that person’s work?

Ellis: Yeah, but I think what Marcus is saying when in reference to the term “superimposed” is that, like I’ve heard this one pianist who did a Bud Powell tune called “Hallucinations.” When the solo came, there was no harmonic reference to “Hallucinations” at all. It was all about whoever this pianist was and his stuff. You can make an argument for that saying that’s what jazz does, and it’s true, but if you approach what you’re doing philosophically, you try and do the best that you can with the melody, the harmony, and the rhythm. Those three components.

I remember once Tommy Flanagan told me something. I was in Europe at one of those festivals, and it always leaves you wanting to play. You go over there, you do 45 minutes then you’re done. There was a space under the hotel in which there was a piano against the wall, and I went over to the piano because I felt like playing more than the 45 minutes. I started playing “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square,” just fooling around with it. When I finished, I saw Tommy was sitting over there against the wall, and I got up to go and speak to him. As I got close to him, he said, “You forgot the verse.” I don’t think I even knew there was a verse, so I went home and got the music and there was the verse. I recorded it again with the verse.

I think there is a certain amount of specificity that is necessary from where I am coming from philosophically. Coltrane was guilty of this all the time; he didn’t care much about the melody. He played it however it came out. You owe the composer of the tune, whether it’s Richard Rogers or Jobim. If you are going to play the melody, play the melody. Then when you get ready to solo, that’s on you.

On CBC Radio TODAY, Commenting On “Jason Marsalis says…” video, and a shout out to OVER THINKERS.

by James Danderfer
May 15, 2010

Hello, good morning, and welcome to the Saturday Morning News Post!

First off, if you’re reading this SMNP on Saturday before 5pm PST then you’re invited to listen to some of that CBC commissioned, Jelly Roll Morton tribute music I wrote/performed for CBC Radio last January. You can find it on Radio One 690 AM or 88.1 FM at 5pm and it will include some music from all the great artists featured that night we recorded live at the Patricia Hotel!

Moving on, let me give a quick shout out to all the over-thinkers out there! If thinking about shit was a job, we’d all be making bank in over-time. But it’s not, and unless you have a somewhat 9-5 job to distract you then you may just be thinking about much too much all at once. Probably nothing brilliant mind you, just… thoughts.

Anyways, that’s where I’m at these days,…over-thinking. And everything ties into something else, such as,…hmm, I don’t know,… let’s say your friend is releasing an electroacoustic EP pretty soon. Well that person starts thinking about how to release the EP (digital download cards vs. CDs, free streaming albums vs. sound bites) but first he’s gotta work out lots of details with his yet to be created record label, and then he thinks about the CD release show which should line-up with the CD release but he doesn’t know how on Earth to perform this music live!… etc, etc.

And then I get a request to think about and comment on this YouTube video of Jason Marsalis (jazz drummer extraordinaire and proponent of traditional jazz values). Why would anyone bother to do this you ask?

The request came from a great jazz pianist (and blog enthusiast) Josh Rager. Now Josh, if you’re reading this, let me just say; I love giving my opinion on anything, the problem is I’m an over-thinker who will think about it, and think about it, and waste more time and think,… until I can come up with THE answer, only there is no definitive answer so my mind will just run around in circles! It’s infuriating,. Okay?… I mean seriously!

So allow me to simplify my opinion on the view which Jason expressed. He believes that institutionalized jazz has lost touch with humanity and students no longer appreciate the value of playing for audiences but instead have learned only to play for themselves or other musicians.

First of all, I hope this guy has a sense of humour because I found the video kinda hilarious. Jason’s poorly edited, Cronkite-esque barroom sermon about “Jazz Nerds International” which, by the audio/video quality, I’m guessing was delivered to somebody’s old cell-phone camera. … Awesome.

So yeah, on one hand I completely agree, institutionalized jazz music hasn’t placed nearly enough emphasis on the core element of expressing emotion to audiences.

On the other hand, it’s music dude! People should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want to! If some guy wants to play jazz music for himself (possibly in 5/4 too) then let him. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s art.

If there’s any solution here it’s to be done by better categorizing the many styles of jazz music. I mean, how is it that jazz came to be a cover all term for any kind of music from Louis Armstrong to hip hop to the Doobie Brothers? It is kinda frustrating when audiences go out to hear a jazz show expecting something swinging and end up with some sort of through-composed, intellectual, new music performance,… and vice versa of course. I know what some of you are saying: “Who knows? You don’t know that they won’t enjoy hearing something different Danderfer!” Yeah, sure, they might, but they probably won’t; just like when I go to eat at an Italian restaurant I probably don’t want to be surprised with pan-Asian fusion dishes.

I don’t know, is it just me? I love labels and relish the opportunity to express this to any musician who considers themselves far too “open-minded” to have use for such things.  Labels are great, they don’t limit anything, instead they serve as a tool towards identifying someone’s likes and dislikes.  Labels help me find the right section in a library, just like they help me find the right aisle in a grocery store, just like the “list of ingredients” helps me determine whether to choose this jar of pasta sauce or the other.  Why hell, that’s an idea right there! ”Jazz Festivals” (which, in my world, would hereby be called “Music Festivals”) could include an ingredient list next to all “fusion” artists, listed in order of greatest percentage, ie:  The Joe Blow Fusion Collective:  Contemporary European Classical, American Folk, Jazz, Blue Grass.

You see? Somebody looks at that and they can say “You know what, I’m not a big jazz fan but I love American Folk and so I’m going to give Joe Blow a chance.” Likewise, they won’t leave Joe Blows show saying “Wow, I kinda thought jazz was more swinging. I guess jazz isn’t my thing.”

OK, I’m done thinking about this. Josh, I hope that was worthwhile, keep up the blogs!

Thanks for reading everybody and have a great week!