1167600 780.97 E77 19^ (2) reference collection I book city ic library ansas city, missouri .. puBaysfi "QOOOl ESQUIRE'S JAZZ azz book Edited by PAUL EDUARD MILLER Introduction by ARNOLD GINGRICH NEW YORK SMITH & DURRELL, INC *943, 1944 BY ESQUIRE, INC. All Rights Reserved This volume has been manufactured in accordance 'with the regulations of the War Production Board PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES O* AMERICA BY J. J. LITTLE & IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK Reference Introduction THERE are exciting things happening on the jazz front. Not the least exciting of them, we hope, is the issuance of this book. But the publication of this book is only one of a series of recent and present events calculated to give a lot of satisfaction to all those who are interested in ^ the development and recognition of the importance of this main stream of American music. The Jazz Concert at the Metropolitan, which promises to become an annual occurrence, is one of them. The vastly expanded results of Esquire's selection of an annual All-American Band is another. The snowball that Robert Goffin first packed between his two big hands a year ago has since rolled up to amazing proportions. The fact that this year's All- American represents the consensus of sixteen experts is another exciting phenomenon. A year ago nobody would have believed that you could ever get even six experts in this field to arrive at a clear-cut consensus, let alone sixteen. And the fact that this year's band so substantially resem bles the one first named by Robert Goffin a year ago proves that jazz criticism is a lot closer to the status of an exact science than anyone would ever have guessed by following the running fights that have been going on between the experts in the jazz magazines for practically as long as there have been experts and practically as regularly as those magazines have appeared. Coffin's own book, Jazz from the Congo to the Met, so long in preparation and now at last in print, would in itself be enough to make '44 a banner year in jazz annals. With its arrival there is at least and at last one more volume to relieve the loneliness of Jazzmen on that five-foot shelf reserved for the classics of jazz lore. On the discography side, the year '43 saw the laying of at least the foundations for an ultimate semblance of order in what is still a chaotically confused field. This was accomplished by the Commodore Music Shop's reissue of the i94o-amended v llG*'l>tM) APR 12 1945 ^:.. n .^:jr n :* * *"-" : -^; : ;"I: Introduction A*i;v; V; r: : J ^ ~ _; ;*; ? 4 _ : *; iona'edmoii; of'Wt collectors' Old Testament, Delaunay's *tioi~Discd^$y* : &^j' Paul Eduard Miller's publication of the second'e&tion of Miller's Yearbook of Popular Music With these two Vtt&s in hand, a lot of guesswork is eliminated m the identification and appraisal of old jazz records, but a lot is also still left. Maybe it will take a couple of Guggenheim Fellowships for somebody or other to produce the perfect discography that will give, in one volume, all that there needs to be known about every record of hot significance that has been issued since 1917 who wrote the tune or the arrangement, if any, and who played the date and when, and how many masters were made and how the label reads, and what reissues have since been made from which masters and approximately how widely the record was sold and what is its relative market value and musical worth. That such a not-impossible but hardly-immediately-probable book would run to the approximate bulk of the New York or Chicago tele phone directory is apparent. But the job will some day, somehow, have to be done, with all this fugitive information coralled into one piece in one place, and the longer it's delayed the harder it will be to do. Meanwhile, important contributions to the fund of knowledge needed for the compilation of such a dream-volume are every day cropping up, to appear only in such occasional and relatively- impermanent form as column notes in the various jazz magazines. The scholarly findings in this direction, that appeared in Eugene Williams' excellent and now unfortunately defunct Jazz Informa tion, have already begun to assume the status of collectors' items themselves! Aside from the suspension of Jazz Information., which it is to be hoped is only temporary, the progress in the field of the specialized jazz magazine during 1943 has been most heartening. Art Hodes has done well with The Jazz Record, considering its restrictions of size and coverage, while the continued issuance, and constant improvement, of Bob Thiele's Jazz Magazine and Gordon Gullickson's Record Changer have added inestimably to the interest and activity in the "paths of righteousness." Down Beat and Metronome have continued to fan the flame of jazz Introduction vii consciousness, and Variety and Billboard have gone on in stride. The Billboard Yearbook, issued this past autumn, while obviously too commercially comprehensive, from the viewpoint of the real jazz addict, is nevertheless a useful reference volume. To us at EsquirCy celebrating with the publication of this present book the tenth anniversary of the magazine's first ex pressed interest in jazz, the thing that has most impressed us is the friendly spirit of disinterested co-operation manifested toward every new venture in the field, on the part of those who are already active in it. It is thanks to this self -abnegating attitude, of desire to extend the boundaries of jazz appreciation, that you see in this book photographs from the files of Do f wn Beat and Metronome and Jazz Magazine, graciously opened to us, as were the individual collections of such stalwarts of the hot field as Messrs. Robert Coffin, Robert Thiele, and George Hoefer. In this, Esquire's first Jazz Book, we have had three avowed objectives. First, and probably foremost, to make available to the only casual listener a short course in jazz appreciation, to enable him to orient his taste enough to determine whether or not it lies in the direction of true jazz and, if it does, give him a guide toward further cultivation of it; second, to preserve in permanent form those various writings on jazz which, upon their appearance in Esquire over the course of the past ten years, have seemed to exert the most influence upon the spread of a general realization and recognition of the significance and importance of the true hot jazz as opposed to its various and sundry illegiti mate offshoots; and third, to provide enough jazz information that is not otherwise available in any single volume to make this book as valuable to the most seasoned collector as it is attractive to the relatively uninformed beginner. For one example, the family tree of jazz influences, which appears as a double spread in this book, would in and of itself be enough to lift the entire volume to the reference book level. Such a "genealogy" has been crying to be drawn up for years, but it has awaited this occasion to come into existence. For an other, the Bio-Discography section represents, at least as concerns the currently active jazz musicians, an enormous improvement over any previously available information. For here you have, "in Vlll Introduction one piece and one place," all the numbers and labels listed, more completely and compactly than you find them in the Hot Dis cography, along with reissue information and current market evaluations. A word about those evaluations. Paul Eduard Miller was unmercifully ribbed, one short year ago, for a lot of the ''exag gerated" values he gave to certain of the older records in his Yearbook. But in recent months, as the bid and ask quotations in the Record Changer have shown how scarce certain items actually are, Miller's "exaggerations" have lately come to seem understate ments. The very first record listed in Chapter VIII of this book, the Bang Oliver Southern Stomps which leads off the Armstrong discography, was sold in November, '43, for sixty-five dollars to a West Coast collector who, as it happens, is a Scotchman and about as canny as they come. But you will notice that Miller, a man who knows his own mind, still stoutly sticks to his figure of fifty. The same is true of his evaluation of another item in the Armstrong discography, the almost legendarily scarce Johnny Dodds Weary Blues, which Miller evaluated at forty-five in his newest edition of his Yearbook. That brought some catcalls, too, and bids of six, eight and ten dollars were confidently offered on that one as recently as last June. But when those bids brought in no copies, they began climbing, and by November that one was also being bid for at sixty-five dollars. So, in listing it for this book, Miller has more or less grudgingly raised the ante to fifty. That, you see is his top figure, and he doesn't particularly care whether you put a dollar sign beside it or not. He simply evalu ates by ratings from one to fifty, to indicate relative scarcity and desirability, and it doesn't matter whether you interpret those figures as standing for dollars, ergs, BTU's or buttons. There are no bargains in the best jazz, of course, as far as the original records are concerned, except for such relative bargains as finding things you like either before they have become, or after they have ceased to be, fashionable as collectors' items. Cheap items, in this sense, there will probably always be. Underpriced, for their musical value, while the collectors scramble for Jelly Roll Morton and Johnny Dodds, are such worthwhile but still relatively unprized items as the McKinney Cotton Pickers, Bennie Introduction ix Moten's Kansas City Orchestra, Clarence Williams' Washboard Fives (without Armstrong, as opposed to those fabulously cher ished Blue Fives with), Johnny Dunn on early Columbia, and the early Original Dixielands on Victor. (In fact, it is almost a sign that you know your stuff if you low-rate the Bennie Motens, which is a break for those with sense enough to grab off such delectenda as Loose Like a Goose and Elephant's Wabble.) As opposed to such relative bargains, absolute bargains have become rare. Of course, the true collector is no more daunted by being told that all the cream has been skimmed off the secondhand record piles than the true angler is deterred by being told that the waters have been fished out. And if you value your time at no more than coolie rates, you can still find, even now, an occasional Armstrong accompaniment or precious early Henderson among the mountains of Wilbur Sweatmans, Earle Fullers and Joseph C. Smiths. There are few greater thrills. But the only bargains worth counting on are the reissues. Yet even those you have to buy as they come out, these days. Be cause of the great record famine of the last year, even the reissues become collectors' items overnight. Decca's Brunswick Albums and Victor's Ellington Panorama were the only big breaks of the year for the hot jazz-hungry, but things are looking up in this respect for '44. Columbia's Hot Jazz Classics were sorely missed in '43. The most important thing to do about hot jazz is not to write about it, not to argue about it, not (even) to dance to it but, of all things, to listen to it. ARNOLD GINGRICH Chicago: December, 1943 CONTENTS INTRODUCTION Arnold Gingrich v I. HOT JAZZ: PROPHET WITHOUT HONOR Paul Eduard Miller i- II. How TO LISTEN TO HOT JAZZ Paul Eduard Miller 14 III. ESQUIRE ON JAZZ 1934-1944 Charles Edward Smith E. Simms Campbell B, S. Rogers James W. Poling Robert Goffin 24 IV. COLLECTORS: Personalities md Anecdotes George Hoefer 69 ^ V. JAZZ GREATS: Musicians and Bands Paul Eduard Miller 79 VI. HISTORICAL CHART OF JAZZ INFLUENCES Paul Eduard Miller 100 VII. ESQUIRE'S ALL-AMERICAN BAND Esquire's Board of Experts 108 VIII. MUSICIANS' BIO-DISCOGRAPHIES 131 ESQUIRE'S JAZZ BOOK Ckapter I Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor For twenty -odd years, controversy about jazz music has raged far-flung and endless. Time and again its critics have asked, "What is jazz?", "Is jazz music?", "Is jazz art?" And, "Would Mozart write fox trots if he were alive today?" The average man, when he thinks of it at all, thinks of jazz in terms of a popular song, like People Will Say We're in Love. Classical concert- goers believe that jazz began and ended with George Gershwin. Swing music, which recently rocked the world, sprang -from sincere hot jazz but was attended with so much commercial potpourri that it became self-conscious from the glamor. While the better swing bands still carry on nobly, many admirers of the hot school are turning to individual performers and small combinations or listening to phonograph .records to hear "righteous" jazz. Although the "hot" musician is too absorbed in his playing to stop and ask himsel-f, "Is this art?" the following chapter sketches the battle of real jazz which is his battle, too for a justifiable place of recognition in a hostile world. by PAUL EDUARD MILLER ^WHEN in the year 1900 the agitated trumpet of Buddy Bolden sounded through the Mississippi delta, the jazz of America hot jazz was taking form. Lowly of origin, a strange new music was ringing out from Perdido and Basin streets, the riverboats carry ing the melody into the northward night. Up it came, slowly at first, from Buddy Bolden and New Orleans, up the long course of the Mississippi to Chicago and California and New York, until finally from this main artery the lifeblood of the country itself was pulsating in the steady inescapable rhythm of jazz. 2 Esquire's Jazz Book Along the road between Madam White's Mahogany Hall and the Metropolitan Opera House lies the struggle of this music for even the smallest recognition. The Original Creoles, The Olympia Band, Scott Joplin, and Jelly Roll Morton fought out the battle of success with contemporaneous obscurity. Prior to 1917 when the world was occupied with other things, ragtime was consid ered, for the most part, an innocuous accompaniment to war, vice and morale. But jazz history was going on just the same. By 1915 Creamer and Layton had composed Dear Old Southland, Shelton Brooks had written Some of These Days and W. C. Handy had set down Negro folk tunes. But in the main, America was indifferent to jazz. In Europe, conversely, Will Marion Cook's orchestra was playing an en gagement at no less a place than London's Philharmonic Hall, with Sidney Bechet as clarinet soloist. As early as 1919, the French classical conductor, Ernest Ansermet, who was a frequent listener, said: "The first thing which strikes one about the South ern Syncopated Orchestra is the astonishing perfection, the superb taste and the fervor of its playing." * And of the performances of Bechet, that dean of soprano saxophonists, M. Ansermet wrote: "They gave the idea of a style, with a brusque and pitiless ending like that of Bach's second Brandenburg Concerto . . . what a moving thing it is to meet this very black, fat boy with white teeth and that narrow fore head, who is glad one likes what he does, but who can say nothing of his art, save that he follows his 'own way,' and when one thinks that this 'own way' is perhaps the highway the whole world will swing along tomorrow." 2 A few years afterward, Igor Stravinsky, admittedly under the jazz influence, composed his Ragtime suite, explaining later: "Its 1 On a Negro Orchestra, by Ernest Ansermet, Revue Romande, Oct. 15, 1919, tr. by Walter E. Schaap in Jazz Hot, 1938. 2 Ibid. Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor 3 dimensions are modest, but it is indicative of the passion I felt at that time for jazz, which burst into life so suddenly when the war ended. At my request, a whole pile of this music was sent to me, enchanting me by its truly popular appeal, its freshness, and the novel rhythm which so distinctly revealed its Negro origin." 3 Gilbert Seldes, although making no attempt to distinguish the true jazz, did foresee something of the social implications in the music when he wrote in Seven Lively Arts: "We require, for , nourishment, something fresh and transient. It is this which makes jazz much the characteristic of our time." 4 Once it developed that jazz might be assuming a position of influence on the social as well as musical world, the opposition began to muster its forces. The relaxation of morals and general licentiousness of the twenties had to be pigeonholed in the least embarrassing manner; consequently crime, a growing indifference to religion, and freedom of sex all were ascribed to an increasing prevalence of syncopated music, although, oddly enough, these same elements were also deemed curable by Prohibition. The literature of the day erupted with essays on the general depravity of the Jazz Age, even otherwise enlightened men like the late Dr. Frederick Stock being moved to announce indignantly that "the appeal of jazz" was directed to what he chose to call "the lowest part of our anatomy." In 192 1 Clive Bell went even farther and "blamed it for breaking down discipline and exalting the untrammeled free spirit." 5 Two influences now attempted to pull jazz in opposite direc tions. The classical recognition of its potentialities extended not only to Stravinsky, but also to Ravel and Hindemith in Europe, and to Carpenter, Sowerby and Lane in America. Europeans par- 8 An Autobiography, by Igor Stravinsky, Simon & Schuster, 1936. 4 Seven Lively Arts, by Gilbert Seldes, Harper, 1924. 5 From No More Swing? by Gilbert Seldes, Scribner*s, November, 1936. 4 Esquire's Jazz Book ticularly continued to be impressed with the new tonalities com ing out of jazz more than they were with the rhythmic structure. But the old-line dignitaries of the classics must have detected in jazz the voice of a musical Frankenstein, about whom the less said, the better. By 1925, the general pattern of tonality having been absorbed, classical music went on cultivating its own dis sonances along more familiar paths of qualification. Another direction was taken by inspired alumni from Tin Pan Alley. These sought to elevate the music to concert hall levels, for a more popular consumption, through the program ming of taxi-horns, tugboat whistles and the nostalgia of Ameri cans in Paris. "Gershwin's Second Rhapsody" wrote one critic, "originally called Rhapsody in Rivets, led me to reflect on the fallacious notion that since American life included jazz and rivet ing, the music which 'expresses' this life also had to include them." 6 This development of jazz with a commercial emphasis on folk art value was being perpetrated by inspired white composers who, growing weary of the ballads on Broadway, naturally must have looked with longing upon the fresh ideas of Negroid jazz. In spite of the fact that the symphonic treatment was received with as much controversialness as the legitimacy of jazz itself, in 1924 these same symphonic stylists carried the word jazz to a comparative respectability. With one Gershwinian gesture it leapt from the musical comedy stage to the concert hall; and Ferdie Grofe, Jerome Kern, and Rube Bloom all rushed subsequently with Gershwin to symphonic jazz. Paul Whiteman, ever on the scent of commercial progress, conducted the premier performance of Rhapsody in Blue, earning for himself the somewhat ambiguous tide of King of Jazz. By 1925 the symphonic movement had proceeded westward, afflicted with a touch of mild surrealism, C B. H. Haggin, The Nation, July 3, 1943. Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor 5 and another concert by Whiteman in Chicago featured Sowerby's Monotony, a Symphony for Jazz Orchestra and Metronome! Meanwhile, real jazz remained close to its origin, the people. The exodus from New Orleans crystallized in Chicago between the years 1918 and 1928. King Oliver's band made the Royal Gardens, Dreamland Cafe, and the Plantation Club jazz-history equivalents of Elizabethan London's Mermaid Tavern, spawned Louis Armstrong, and cut records now numbered among jazz's greatest classics. In 192 1 a white group, the New Orleans Rhythm King's assured the future status of a shrine to the Friar's Inn simply by playing there for eighteen months. Sidney Bechet, Jimmie Noone and others were in Chicago with small combina tions; Erskine Tate's mighty band rocked the small Vendome Theatre nightly. Scores of other groups were making Chicago's south side reverberate. Stimulated by association and enthusiastic audiences, and for a time unharried by the money difficulties so familiar to all musi cians, the hundreds of jazzmen in Chicago drove hard in the direction of technical excellence and hence greater complexity for the medium, increased the variety, subtlety, and range of expression. Armstrong, inspired, parted company from Oliver to cut his own Hot Five and Seven records now lauded by many critics as the apex of 'jazz expression. Fired by the music, the memorable Austin High School class matesDave Tough, Jimmy McPartland, Frank Teschemacher, Bud Freeman, and Jim Lannigan were organizing themselves into the Blue Friars. By 1927 this group included the since famous names of Benny Goodman, Floyd O'Brien, Muggsy Spanier, Jess Stacy and Joe Sullivan. By the end of the year 1929 the basic structure of hot jazz had been laid down and was well on its way toward the polishing and refining stages. One white influence was being fostered by 6 Esquire's Jazz Book Red Nichols, Miff Mole, Frank Trumbauer and Bix Beiderbecke through a more or less restrained chamber music in the hot vein. Meantime, Freeman, Teschemacher, and McPartland wrought the spirit and rounded out the technique of what is often referred to as the "Chicago style," adhered to today by men such as Bud Freeman and Pee Wee Russell. The small "jam" combinations of King Oliver and the New Orleans Rhythm Kings were setting pace for the many jam units which came later. Duke Ellington's installation at New York's Club Kentucky (1923) marked the beginning (for him) of a distinctly characteristic kind of hot jazz-a style which he and his orchestra steadily pursued during the next seventeen years. Mc- Kinney's Cotton Pickers, with impetus from Don Redman and John Nesbit, developed the full band ensemble playing (inter spersed with solos) which is used by the larger bands of today. And finally, during this period, Fletcher Henderson, Erskine Tate, and Charles (Doc) Cook-among the ablest leaders in all hot jazz-brought their bands to an epitome of expressiveness. Meanwhile, the opposition kept sniping. Although Bookman magazine began a regular department of hot jazz record reviews by Abbe Mies, he could still note that "one of the unwritten mottos of sensational pulpiteers runs 'when hi doubt, denounce jazz.' " The following year the Depression caught Chicago on the downgrade, and what has been called the Golden Age of Jazz came to an end. That city, after 1930, was only a gutted shell of its former self. Sweet music, always the big money maker in the popular field, took over completely: Jan Garber was groom ing himself for the role of "idol of the airlanes," Wayne King, Guy Lombardo waltzed their way to fortunes. Depression-ridden, confused, dispirited, the overwhelming majority of American people who could pay for music preferred sentimental other- worldliness to any expression of the real life they sought to forget. Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor 7 No better indication of jazz's authenticity can be found, nor a better answer be given to those who have claimed that jazz itself is escape-music, than its neglect during the escapist years of the early Depression. Frank Teschemacher could say almost cate gorically, "You can't play hot and make a living at it." Ben Pollack, as head of a combination of some of the greatest white names in jazz, judiciously saw fit to take up crooning. Between 1928 and 1932 Bix Beiderbecke, Frank Trumbauer, Joe Venuti, Eddie Lang, Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey, Red Norvo, Mildred Bailey and others kept the wolf from the door by joining Paul Whiteman. Although Duke Ellington made money and McKin- ney's Cotton Pickers got by, most musicians had to scrape for sustenance. Many of the best soloists were scattered; some desti tute. Still others were to be drawn into radio and theatre pit orchestras, their chief talents obscured and unrealized. Jazz was localizing. Ellington and Henderson finally settled in New York; Benny Moten and Andy Kirk were in Kansas City; McKinney hibernated for a long while at Detroit's Graystone Ballroom. By 1932 Joe Marsala had done a stint as truck driver; Jack Tea- garden, Miff Mole, Red Nichols, and a host of others succumbed to the lure of radio money; Rappolo was in the madhouse, Beider becke, Teschemacher and Lang were dead. However, the essence of jazz survived in the men who had played it. In a period when the majority of the intelligentsia opposition was triumphantly proclaiming its death completely overlooking the Depression as a factor true jazz went under ground and stayed alive. It was kept so by musicians and almost no one else. 'This was the period George Frazier remembered through the pages of Music and Rhythm as the days when "jazz hot jazz was almost exclusively the concern of the boys in the back room. Louis and Bix and Tram were virtually unheard of except by musicians ... If you were a Bix devotee in those days you felt a little as if you were a member of a secret society." 8 Esquire's Jazz Book Musicians around New York kept their interest in hot music alive by jamming for the love of it, recording with pick-up bands, and jobbing on one-nighters whenever they could find work. Many of them ruined their health, but they kept jazz breathing simply because its breath was in them, and even if they had to play it for nothing they couldn't stop playing it entirely. At the same time, strangely enough, jazz was making further inroads, this time along more legitimate lines, in the intellectual ranks. In 1930 a feature article by Charles Edward Smith appeared in Symposium. Two years later Robert Goffin, a Belgian lawyer, brought out his Awe Frontiers du Jazz in Brussels, and in 1934 Roger Pryor Dodge contributed Harpsichords and Jazz Trumpets to the once famous Hound and Horn. The same year Hugues Panassie wrote his French edition of Hot Jazz. Hot clubs began to spring up in Europe and America, and by 1934 also, the col lecting of characteristic music was recognized by a general maga zine with publication in Esquire of Charles Edward Smith's Collecting Hot. Larger bands now began to make a significant appearance. Although Erskine Tate's Vendome Orchestra, Fletcher Hender son's Orchestra and McKinney's Cotton Pickers had all been large organizations whose recordings sometimes reveal a pre cocious similarity to the swing ushered in by Benny Goodman in the 'so's, other jazz up to this time was principally identified with small combinations. Mainly a New York influence, the large band idea now began to look attractive to hot musicians. In 1934 Goodman persuaded some of the men to follow him out of the back rooms, theatres and radio studios into a large band venture that would engage in the playing of real jazz. After months of trials, he obtained work at Billy Rose's Music Hall in New York and proceeded to make some headway. In 1935 he moved into the sedate Joseph Urban Room of Chicago's Congress Hotel and miraculously became the first band to bring the place Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor 9 popular success as a nightspot. At the end of six weeks his con tract converged into a seven-month engagement, and his meteoric rise to national fame commenced. In 1934 the Dorsey brothers struck out for themselves and organized a swing band which, amoeba-like, split into two bands a year later, Jimmy and Tommy going their separate ways to prominence. In 1935 the Ben Pollack group became the renowned Bob Crosby orchestra. To the fact that more than jitterbugging was involved in jazz's revival as swing, two new developments attest. In the first place, people began to listen instead of dance. Writing of the performances of the Goodman orchestra, Otis Ferguson said: 'The guests are presently banked in a half -moon around the band, unable to be still through it or move away either . . ." 7 And with a growing popular emphasis on individual ability, soloists began to become names in their own right, some of them earning such recognition that they could form bands of their own and that recording companies found it good business to list personnels on records. But swing really started achieving fabulous lucrative propor tions when in the spring of 1937 Goodman played the Paramount theatre in New York. Extra police had to be called in to handle the audience which ran and danced in the aisles and scrambled over each other to get closer to the band. Ballrooms, theatres, and hotels, eager to return to a paying basis, soon clamored for swing bands. Gate receipts mounted enormously. At the Astor Hotel in New York, Tommy Dorsey broke all records for attendance, attracting 4,000 people in two nights. The Saturday and Sunday performances of Goodman at the Paramount theatre drew 29,000 persons, shattering all existing records for that theatre. In January, 1938, Goodman was presented at Carnegie Hall by Sol Hurok, whose more immediate connections were with 7 The Spirit of Jazz, by Otis Ferguson, The New Republic, Dec. 30, 1936. io Esquire's Jazz Book the Ballet Russe. During the jam session which was part of the program, the audience, 3,000 strong, stomped its feet to the rhythm, jumped up and down, and generally indicated that Carnegie Hall had no appreciable sobering influence. Said Time magazine, "In the best and truest sense, the joint actually was rocking. " The same year, in August, Goodman concertized at Ravinia Park, classical music's own sylvan glade on Chicago's North Shore. Regular subscribers, as usual, held down the seats in the small open air pavilion, but the more ardent followers of Benny and swing swarmed in multitudinous droves all over the park at fifty cents a head, to listen if not to see. Next day the Daily Times front-paged the headline, "Swing Ravinia Out of the Red," and further embarrassed the longhairs by explaining that "the gate receipts paid off the deficit left over from more sedate types of music." Recognition in the national music magazine field was inevi table. In the United States, Down Beat led the way beginning in the mid thirties, with Metronome and Tempo also taking up the cudgel for jazz. In Europe, the London Melody Maker, which had been featuring excellent reviews since 1926, was met with new competition in 1938 by Hot News, Swing Music, and Rhythm, also in London; Hot Jazz in Paris; Tempo and the Australian Melody Maker in Sydney. Articles began to appear with more frequency in the U. S. quality magazines. In 1939 several periodicals made a bid for the fan market, while purists were given the esoteric Jazz Information and HRS (Hot Record Society) Society Rag to rally round. In addition, a jazz literature was developing. In 1936 Louis Armstrong put down his own story in Swing That Music, and Jazz: Hot and Hybrid, by Winthrop Sargeant appeared two years later. Benny Goodman's autobiography, Kingdom of Swing, was * Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor 1 1 published in 1939 as was Jazzmen, by Charles Edward Smith and Frederic Ramsey Jr. and the list is steadily accumulating. At with a Horn, and Henry Steig, Send Me Down. There were least two novels appeared; Dorothy Baker wrote Young Man other books dealing with factual information and the more tech nical aspects, including Charles Delaunay's Hot Discography, and Milton Schleman's Rhythm on Record. With such a self-made reputation, it was only natural that swing music should have been awarded a movie contract. White and Negro jazz descended upon Hollywood, and in a matter of months theatre marquees were ablaze with the names of as many musicians as movie stars. Swing became a by-word, presently attracting the same amount of editorial comment and condemna tion that had been occasioned by the jazz of the twenties. Swing, however, with millions of radio, cinema, and juke box dollars behind it, was not as vulnerable to such attack. It was impossible not to acknowledge the blast that blew Ravinia out of the red; the opposition began to show signs of weakening. At the same time, small combination jazz, still regarded by many as the only true jazz, was carefully fostered by its powerful big brother, the name band. Goodman organized his "band within a band" (the trio, quartet, and sextet). Artie Shaw followed with the Gramercy Five, Woody Herman with his Wood Choppers, Bob Crosby with the Bobcats, and the Ellington instrumentalists took turns in fronting recording combinations under their own names.. Together they brought the small group back into the lime light, polishing and refining its techniques to a degree that allowed Otis Ferguson to remark that when Goodman's trio plays, "the people stand up from their tables just to hear it better." 8 With a decade's experience behind them, the men in these and other groups rarefied and reinstated the small combination "improvised" * The Spirit of Jassz, by Otis Ferguson, The New Republic, Dec. 30, 1936. 12 Esquires Jazz Book jazz. Ferguson further stated that "no two notes are the same, and no one note off the chord; the more they relax ia the excite ment of it the more a natural genius in pre-selection becomes evi dent and the more indeed the melodic line becomes rigorously pure, This is really composition on 'the spot, with the spirit of jazz strongly over all of them but the iron laws of harmony and rhythm never lost sight of; and it is a collective thing, the most beautiful example of men working together to be seen in public today." Whole bands themselves were mushrooming out of the parent bands; today's featured soloist was tomorrow's bandleader, with a recording contract in his pocket, bookings assured, and a Holly wood agent in the foyer. The complexities of large band or arranged jazz grew apace. Goodman, Shaw, Ellington experi mented with new instruments and tonalities; at the same time they kept alive the small combination technique and spirit. Jam sessions, the clandestine breeding ground of jazz of five years before, were revived and made not only public but lucrative as well. The flurry created by the jitterbug subsiding, jazz touched off a new response in the gentlemen who collectively determine what shall and shall not be called "Art." Goodman's 1938 record ing and subsequent concerts with the Budapest String Quartet made a visible impression on those who had succumbed to the fallacy that the jazz musician lacks technical virtuosity, and the event received wide notice in the popular press. The rank and file of classical music lovers showed signs of unbending a little also when they heard Benny Goodman's band play a concert in Chicago's Grant Park on the same program with the Woman's Symphony Orchestra of Chicago in 1941. One hundred thousand persons stood in the rain to hear. Of this occasion, the Chicago Her aid- American said: "Music lovers probably had come to hear the Woman's Symphony Orchestra which had the first half of Hot Jazz: Prophet without Honor 13 the program. But they stayed for Benny Goodman's half . . , Some of them even swayed a little themselves." Official opinion was dying hard, and at last the atmosphere cleared for Duke Ellington to give a concert in Carnegie Hall in January of 1943. Critical temperatures again ran high. Paul Bowles, of the New York Herald Tribune, was so disappointed by his maiden effort to understand jazz that he concluded: "The whole attempt to fuse jazz with an art music should be discour aged. The two exist at such distances that the listener cannot get them both into focus at the same time." But Boston, Cleveland, Washington, Philadelphia and Chicago concert-goers were given an opportunity to hear substantially the same concert, and as Ellington continued to pack the symphonic citadels with cus tomers, the press grew progressively more favorable, if about the wrong things. In form, Ellington's music is departing from the jazz tradition; much influenced by classical piano composition, his pieces have a tendency to slide into the structure and feeling of classical modernists. It is logical to suspect that symphony lovers who greeted his New World tfComiri with such thought ful respect will imagine that what Whiteman could not do, namely affiance jazz to the classics, Ellington can now be ex pected to accomplish. But whether or not the erstwhile opponents of jazz are mis taken about the things they respect, it is significant that they do at long last show signs of respecting it, and the word "art" is creeping with regularity into the vocabulary with which they describe it. Conductor Leopold Stokowski believes that "Duke Ellington is one of America's outstanding artists," and Clifton Fadiman (in the introduction to the recent Reader's Club edition of Young Man with a Horn), while referring to jazz as a "limited field," does admit its practitioners are "artists." Ckapter II How to Listen to Hot Jazz Eased on the assumption that there may be many music lovers who are awaiting an explanation of hot jazz in terms which are not strictly "out of this world" the substance of this chapter offers the interested newcomer to the listening field an oppor tunity to reconcile jazz with his ideas on music generally. No one ever passed a sound critical judgment on a piece of hot music who temperamentally was predisposed to dislike it. The listener's attitude and the guideposts to which he may address himself comprise the material of this essay. The suggestions offered are meant to be neither academe nor categorical. The subject of music appreciation is a difficult one: the printed word approaches the world of musical sound only in a roundabout manner. Like all ar^ hot jazz possesses an elusive quality which sets it off from non-art. This quality , naturally, is directly expressed only in the music itself. by PAUL EDUARD MILLER HALF a century was required to bring jazz from the dregs of New Orleans to the most celebrated concert halls of America. Far-flung controversy has at last consolidated into the acceptance of jazz as a valid form of art. An infectious enthusiasm has reached into the banks of eminent spokesmen on the artistic front. And yet it is lamentable that many people of culture are without an understanding of this, their most native musical heritage. To be sure, there are those who have attempted to cultivate a taste for it; some have achieved an extraordinary comprehension. But there are countless music lovers who believe that jazz is by reputation too simple a thing to be worthy of consideration, 14 How to Listen to Hot Jazz 15 and although they display an unmistakable discernment in classi cal directions, to them jazz remains mere noise. The first step in the process of appreciation lies in learning how to distinguish more than mere noise. The accusation of meaningless simplicity may be leveled with justification against the ever-present popular song. In the case of authentic hot music, however, it will be found upon examination that it is not sim plicity which gives rise to the supposition that jazz is nothing more than jumbled sound, but rather, the inherent emotional as well as technical complexity. To the uninitiated ear this com plexity is no more readily intelligible than is a Bach passacaglia, and only by an understanding of its implications can we discover what it is that hot jazz seeks to express. Jazz began as the compensation music of a shackled race, singing out with the safest expression available. The song of jazz is at once the song of life and restraint, of passion and sublima tion, of laughter and lament, of sad bondage and sad freedom. Freely adopted by the white man who quickly discovered that these implications extended to his own life, the timeless art themes of jazz were utilized to translate similar emotional experience to higher social spheres. Nevertheless, the basic pattern of expression remained the same, the experience of both races being acted upon by the same essential conditions of life and environment. Modern living disturbs us with an infinity of excitations. His reactions moving in kaleidoscopic programs, modern man experiences more stimuli than did any of his forebears. Hot jazz, lending concise statement to this symbol of our era, offers a genuine art-counterpart to the environmental-social conditions under which we live. Because its underlying spirit rests so close to the fundamental spirit of our complex age itself, jazz interprets a richer variety of emotional expressiveness than so-called serious music written as from another world the simpler, slow-paced world of the past. 1 6 Esquire's Jazz Book Swiftly, but with complex subtlety, jazz sings its lyrical song. Remembering that it constantly is varied with cross-rhythms, consider the unrelenting beat of the percussion section: it is the jazz musician's art-valuation of the limitations of time, space and the environment. Over and above the beat surges the soloist. Pitting himself against the limitations-the throb of the rhythm section-he seeks release from the confinements of society. With ecstatic abandon he pursues his unattainable objective. But the percussionists do not allow him forever to wander in the heights. They recall him; he subsides, merging once more into the restric tions of the orchestra where, resolving with dignity his fanciful flight, he again affirms life. To the romantic symphonists of an older era of more ex pansive living, the simply-phrased sentences of hot jazz would have seemed wholly inadequate. Whereas formerly it may have required long passages to conjure up and delineate a musical mood, this is no longer necessary or even desirable. The modern artist is too pressed against time to weave a background of extensive romantic qualification. He comes directly to his objec tive and tells his story along straight lines. Like the best contem porary architecture, hot jazz has stripped away the embellishment, reducing its reflection of the age to simple, severe strokes by which the accelerated tempo of modern life is implied rather than detailed* It was probably no more than natural that the substitution of such implication for the customary endless thematic embroidery should foster the criticism that jazz is characterized by too much brevity. The usual symphony, composed of four movements, requires from thirty to seventy-five minutes for performance. The various themes are stated simply at first and elaborated upon as the symphony progresses. A whole movement is sometimes given over to the presentation of the theme in one form, as for example, the third movement in the Tchaikowsky Fifth which How to Listen to Hot Jazz 17 is a waltz, and the second, or marcia -funebre movement of Bee thoven's Eroica. In jazz we find the message presented at a tenser, more modern pace. The theme is at once introduced with keen thrusts of single shaded notes, either by full orchestra or solo instrument. From this point complexities are introduced in quick succession, and the melody is swept from one variation to another with a rapidity unfamiliar to the adherents of the symphonic form. A simple phrase in a symphony may occupy the strings for as much as five or ten minutes; the equivalent phrase in a jazz piece will be dispatched by a section of the jazz orchestra or a single instru ment in a matter of seconds. A wide range of meanings is present in hot jazz; but because the time allotted to notes and phrasing is extraordinarily short, it may appear to those accustomed to the classical treatment that jazz does not embody the emotion re quired of great music. In the actual approach to jazz we must take into account the necessity of subtracting from consideration all types of music which do not find their roots in the musical expression of the American Negro. It goes without saying that no art may admit of so banal a circumstance as racial prejudice. (This is not in tended to invite a renewal of the white vs. Negro jazz contro versy. White jazz also stemmed from the Negro.) It is likewise essential to disregard much of the unfounded slander against the jazz idiom. Even more important, perhaps, is it to regard as totally untrustworthy the quasi-academic criticism and apologies originating with classical musicologists and commentators who prefer to remain unsympathetic and oblivious to everything be yond the pale of "serious music." Lastly there must be in the approach a personal predisposition towards the spirit of the music, a positive desire to respond to it, a willingness to comprehend and 1 8 Esquire's Jazz Book feel its basic messages. Such an attitude is not unique; it forms the basis of an approach to any art. Nowadays the best jazz may be heard intermittently almost anywherein night clubs, bars, theaters, over the radio, even on the concert stage. The advantage of listening to jazz in the flesh, especially in informal surroundings, is that the performance is apt to be more relaxed and uninhibited, containing the spontaneity so essential to the interpretation of this music. The disadvantage of such listening is that the finest jazz is often played side by side, for commercial reasons, with the mediocre and the cheap, result ing in confusion to the untrained ear. Much can be accomplished by listening to records, and to accustom the ear to the concen trated language of jazz, no better medium exists than the phono graph record. Excellently performed examples of what is best may be heard in this satisfactory, if mechanical, manner, and much good recorded jazz attains even the vitality of live per formance. Of numerous waxings in existence, I am arbitrarily choosing eleven versions of the same selection for brief examination. It is the famous Sugar Foot Stomp one of the classics of all jazz. The record numbers are listed below for convenience of procurement: Performance by Make King Oliver Gen. King Oliver Okeh King Oliver Voc. Fletcher Henderson Col. Fletcher Henderson Col. Fletcher Henderson Melo. Fletcher Henderson Cr. Fletcher Henderson Vic. Benny Goodman Vic. Muggsy Spanier Blu. Artie Shaw Blu. No. Reissue 5132 HRS Nov. '37 4IO8 T 7 1033 UHCA 41-42 395 Col. 35668 203 j j I227O ./y 3191 HRS Nov. '37 22721 2C6?8 Blu. 10247 10506 How to Listen to Hot Jazz 19 Each of the eleven recordings listed is deserving of a position in the discerning collector's library; together they afford the listener an excellent opportunity to draw comparisons between solo styles, full orchestral treatments, and emotional interpreta tions. From the compositional standpoint, Sugar Foot Stomp blends unity of structure with variety of content. Its thematic line is based on the rhythmic-repetition principle which is satis factorily accomplished by harmonic and melodic variations. Though usually played at fast stomp tempo, the melody is a plaintive Blues characterized by a typical Negroid sadness, its original title having been Dipper Mouth Elms. My own personal preference is for the King Oliver Vocalion, No other, I believe, sustains the melody's inherent sadness so well as the version by the composer's own Plantation Club orchestra in 1925. The piece recreates through implication the feelings of joy and melancholy. A variety of emotions, easily discernible to the listener provided he will permit himself to be drawn into the feeling, radiate from the solos and ensembles. Each of the four choruses of the composition is divided into three phrases, twelve measures in length. The Oliver orchestra strikes out immediately with an arresting note. After the joyous ensemble opening which accounts for the first two phrases of the chorus, the theme subsides with Darnell Howard's low-register clarinet; then pitches higher by change of register, completing the third phrase, beginning the first of the following chorus. Next, during the final two phrases of the second chorus, Kid Ory's now traditional trombone asserts an emphatic voice, rising to an eventual crescendo leading to a brusque shift to the third featured instrument. Oliver's lone trumpet relieves the imagery created by the trombone in a solo which fills out the third chorus, and which has formed the basis for the trumpet solo on almost every subsequent recording of the piece. The solo is in a disturbed 20 Esquires Jazz 'Book melodic line, the motif emphasized by broken, staccato effects in the low-toned reed section acting in unison with percussion. The final ensemble is in a counter-emotional pattern. Three voicings may be heard. While the trombone sketches the bare melody a plaintive, wailing Blues theme the reeds, seemingly acting as percussion, provide the rhythm. The brass, with dominatingly happy phrases, cuts away from the Blues sung by the trombone, with both orchestral sections repeating again and again, in a constant affirmation of the dual mood. In this Oliver version of Sugar Foot Sto?np, as in the others, each soloist not only suggests a different emotion-mood, but his interpretation is rich with his own individual inflections, slurs, breaks, modulations, intonations, phrasings, attacks all of which bring a variety of meanings to the music, to the phrases of the music, and to the individual notes whose sum total comprises the music. It is in the soloist's phrasing and grouping of a series of ideas, and in his attack on each individual note wherein lies the spirit of the piece. In hot jazz the emotional overtones are not lost merely because of its brevity of expression. The emotional con tent is tightly packed, but it is undeniably present. Approximately the same patterns may be traced through the other ten versions. The two earlier Olivers are specimens of a cruder but still vigorous kind of polyphonic jazz which was so characteristic of the time (1922). Just as Oliver set the style for trumpet soloists who followed him, so Johnny Dodds, in these two diskings, modeled the style of the clarinet solos which ap peared later. Only Benny Goodman departs radically from the original Dodds' phrasing, retaining, however, the inherent Blues flavor of the solo. The five Hendersons are notable for their profusion of great solos and precisely right ensemble-percussion support lent to each soloist. In particular, listen for the virility of the Louis Armstrong trumpet on Columbia 395; compare this How to Listen to Hot Jazz 21 with the intensity of the same solo in the hands of Rex Stewart on the Henderson Crown, and the alternately sad and gay im pressions in the concentrated Harry James solo on the Goodman platter; check these against the early Oliver trumpet choruses. Each reveals a different approach to a given theme; each contains the essentials of jazz, technically and in the spirit reflected. The numerous trombone solos on the Henderson versions approach the theme with gaiety of stride, personalized by the individual soloists; Charlie Green on Columbia 395, Jimmy Harri son on the Crown, Claude Jones and Benny Morton on the Melotone and Victor. All share a marked mood-contrast, as well as a technical one, to Kid Ory's tromboning in the Oliver Vocalion and Honore Deutray's in the two early Olivers. The large orchestral effect of Henderson's own piano interludes on the Victor version injects a new concept of expansiveness into his interpretation. Similarly, both Spanier on trumpet and Shaw on clarinet, in their waxings, display a deeply felt consciousness of the underlying Blues melancholy of the theme, yet neither quite making of it a tragic, depressing episode. If anyone would sharpen his listening ear for hot jazz, I believe that these eleven interpretations of Sugar Foot Stomp provide ample material for a desirable beginning. In them one may discern all the essential characteristics of the finest hot jazz style both its spirit and its techniques. On the technical side are found frequent use of tempo rubato expressed with freedom of spirit, 1 intense valuation of fierce polyrhythms in both the 1 Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians defines it as a term which "ex presses the opposite of strict time, and indicates a style of performance in which some portion of the bar is executed at a quicker or slower tempo than the general rate of movement, the balance being restored by a corresponding slackening or quickening of the remainder." It is this device which enables the hot jazz player to inject numerous subtleties and variations into theme-interpretations, and to bring to this music the emotional spirit and content through which our age is honestly delineated. Of course, like any technique, tempo rubato is but a means to an end- 22 Esquire's Jazz Book solo and section parts of the orchestra, a radical use of dissonances and polytonal harmonies, generous-and successful-experimenta tion with the potential capabilities of the individual solo instru ments. To catch the spirit of jazz, the flavor of our time, the jazz player utilizes all these techniques: they are the materials out of which he hews his interpretations of the theme. The resulting musical sounds give off that elusive essence which I am calling the spirit of jazz. It is there in abundance in the best hot jazz, incorporating into its essence the emotional substrata required of music greater than folk art. The claim that jazz is a native Ameri can folk art sets forth a thoroughly specious argument frequently employed by those who do not understand the inner emotional nature of jazz. During the past ten years, since Benny Goodman first was featured on a commercial radio program called Let's Dance, Americans generally have become aware of hot jazz by the name, "swing." 2 One of the definitions of swing, concocted and widely quoted during the thirties, held that it was "collective improvisa tion/ 7 Now the word improvisation has been bandied about with out much regard for its precise meaning. Merely as a warning, then, I feel that it should be pointed out that its use in hot jazz terminology differs from the specific meaning attributed to it by Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians. In hot jazz, the term improvisation, usually accorded only to that of shading and qualifying- the statement of the original motif, thus bringing it into conformity with the enormous complexities and extensions of present day living. 2 The jazz purist scorns the word, prefers to retain it is a reference to big-band jazz exclusively; the phrase, hot jazz, is held in reserve for small combinations using no scored arrangements those groups which feature their instrumentalists in an endless series of take-your-turn solos, interspersed with occasional ensemble jam choruses in which the soloists interweave their melodies. While this distinction is not objectionable, it cannot be maintained categorically. Much of the greatest hot jazz recorded in the twenties was waxed by big bands. Even the purist will not deny that big bands such as McKinney's Cotton Pickers, Fletcher Henderson's, or Duke Ellington's are among the foremost representatives of the hot jazz idiom. Hoiu to Listen to Hot Jazz 23 solos, implies that the player of the solo is free to ad lib his own individual conception of the melody. In fact, it is this very thing which enables hot jazz musicians to bring breadth and variety to the music. However, it is common knowledge that the original Benny Goodman Trio worked out its arrangements in advance of public presentation. It perhaps did not stop to anno tate its scores, but without question it can be assumed that they were imprinted vividly on the memories of Messrs. Goodman, Krupa, and Wilson. The Duke Ellington orchestra likewise deliberately plans the most effective means for producing its kind of jazz. Many Ellington scores, in fact most, actually are annotated. Why, then, are these two groups often cited as the ultimate in "hot" or "improvised" jazz? It is because they have given the listener the illusion of spontaneity. That is a great achievement; it is an artistic achievement. They play with stupendous spirit and vitality; they are masters in the interpretation of planned music. Any planned, rehearsed, memorized, or annotated music requires vigorous and spirited interpretation if its fullest emotional content is to be transferred to the listener. Ctapter III ire on Jazz 1Q34-1Q44 This chapter Is devoted to a digest-reprint of some of the articles on hot jazz and hot jazz personalities 'which appeared in Esquire during the ten-year period since the publication of the now famous article, Collecting Hot, in February, 2934. It is fitting that, on the tenth anniversary of that notable occasion, Esquire should devote an entire book to the furtherance of an appreciation of the most American of all the artshot jazz music. In the main, the articles speak -for themselves. All -footnotes save one (the exception is so indicated in footnote $) are comments of the editor, and do not reflect a criticism of the author, but have been written solely for the guidance of the reader who wishes to pursue the subject more closely. It is hoped that the number of such readers mil be great, that their additional numbers will provide the greater impetus that hot jazz so richly deserves. The original date of publication is noted in each instance. COLLECTING HOT by CHARLES EDWARD SMITH (First published in February, IN ONE of the lesser known hot spots of Harlem the featured musician is Sidney Bechet Bechet plays a New Orleans clarinet. Amongst jazz collectors he is a venerable person, not in age but in experience. Although but thirty-six, Bechet has played the clarinet for twenty-nine years and has the further distinction of having taught Larry Shields (Original Dixieland clarinet) and Leon Rappolo, a hot musician who remains unsurpassed in the jazz world. Fugitive and tremulous, the tone of Rappolo's clarinet fills the listener with an overwhelming nostalgia. He made unforgettable 24 Esquire on Jazz iy^-iy^f 25 records of Tin Roof Blues and of Tiger Rag, after which he retired to a sanitorium, his clarinet shelved and his mind shat tered. From then on what was immortal of Rappolo, his hot clarinet playing, was accessible only on a score or so of records, pressed before the days of electrical recording. Today these records the Gennetts as they are called are the cream of the jazz crop. Collecting hot, in any comprehensive sense of the word, begins with pressings made by five or six early bands on Gennett records. Collecting hot refers to collecting hot jazz records. Some collectors content themselves with records acquired at second hand or at most at standard prices, some go so far as to acquire master records (records from which editions are printed), and still others covet variations of initial recordings, recordings dif ferent in content but identical both in title and serial number. Pre-electrical records and records made to sell at low prices are especially rare. A classic example is that of a college student who paid over a hundred dollars for an old blues record, the master of which had been destroyed. This ardent collector refused a depression offer of $75.00 spot cash for this single item; but the pay-off came when the prospective purchaser, himself a col lector, picked up a clean copy of the same record in a remainder pile for the sum of ten cents! Fortunately, except in its denouement, the above transaction is an extreme example of what can happen (and not what usually does happen) in collecting hot. No doubt in time certain records will be stamped as collectors' items and this will give them a value over and above their original price, but at present collectors' items are to be found in remainder piles and other places where old or secondhand records are for sale. 1 These piles of old records 1 During the past ten years, secondhand stores and remainder piles literally have been shorn clean of practically all good or fair condition copies of recordings now long since established as so-called collectors' items. In 1934, however, the opportunity for buying such discs, even in new condition, over retail counters, was still feasible; 2 6 Esquire's Jazz Book are to the collector what old libraries are to the bibliophile prospective treasure caches. He may examine five or six hundred records without a single strike patience is notoriously a collec tor's virtue! and then come upon an old Harmony record by the Dixie Stompers of a piece called Snag It. If he knows his stuff he will recognize that this is an early record by Fletcher Henderson's orchestra, and a gem! The status of hot today is quite different from that of its early days, i.e., little more than a decade ago. Today a check-up reveals collectors of hot in almost every college and preparatory school in the country. 2 The substantial following enjoyed by Louis Armstrong is due largely to jazz enthusiasts at prominent universities Yale, Princeton, etc. who began collecting his records five or six years ago. That the popularity of hot jazz is not even more widespread may be attributed to the lack of any literature treating of hot as a special field, and also to the deaden ing effect of the shallow emotionalism of sweet (popular) jazz upon the public ear. Hot recordings in the United States average about two thousand sales. In England and France, where there has been less of sweet and a reasonably wide dissemination of knowledge on the subject of hot, recordings average as high as six thousand copies. 3 while secondhand stores were loaded with the older Gennetts, Paramounts, Okehs, Vocalions, and Brunswicks. 2 It is to Smith's credit that he recognized this minority trend which, in 1934, was widely scattered, completely unorganized, and in no sense a movement of any con siderable importance. Midwesterners, perhaps, were more fortunate in having heard many of the jazz greats in person during the 1920*8, when Chicago was a hotbed of hot jazz. 8 The impression here is somewhat erroneous. The interest in hot jazz in England arid France, while more coherent and organized, was in no way comparable to that in the U.S., where the interest, though wide, was scattered and disorganized. While Europeans rarely had the opportunity to hear great hot bands-except via phono graph records Americans frequently gave substantial boxoffice support to the personal appearances of the orchestras themselves. In this country, the concentration was less on records than on in-the-flesh performances. In addition, the distribution of records here was poor during the 1920*3 and early 1930*5. Most of the hot or Esquire on Jazz 2 $34- 2 944 27 From its inception the term hot differentiated what was gen uine and had the quality of folk musicwhether slow Blues or fast stompfrom what was imitative and blatantly derivative, called corny, and the vast field of sweet, popular jazz. Hot jazz, apart from its initial spurt, received no recognition from the higher cultural levels, and the masses, seeing that hot was in disrepute, succumbed to the Lorelei of sweet jazz jazz which plucked at the surface emotions with a monotonous persistence. Art Hickman and other purveyors of sweet rose to meteoric fame while white men who continued to play hot received the chauvinistic appellation of "white niggers." * A hot collection tells the story audibly. On the early records by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band (both Columbia and Victor) one may discern the underlying spirit of Negro Blues sometimes conflicting with the jerkiness of ragtime. The victory of Blues tempo was the victory of the fox-trot over the one-step. Although a New Orleans band, the Original Dixieland group was composed of white men who had, perforce, to assimilate the Negro's music, and this may be one reason they exhibit, better than any other band, the welding of ragtime and Blues tempo. Their renderings are not particularly impressive to most ears but musicians and discriminating collectors know that this band has had an incalcul able effect upon hot jazz, especially as regards their facility for setting up an unceasing rhythmic flow within the melodic pattern. The Original Dixieland established a tradition, both in melodic and rhythmic patterns, carried on by The Cotton Pickers, reintro- duced by the Mound City Blue Blowers, Chicago Rhythm Kings, "race" records of Gennett, Paramount, Okeh, Vocation, Brunswick and Columbia were available, usually, only in the Negro sections of large cities, where they en joyed a wide sale. However, the more general outlets, where what are now collectors' items were available, were few and far between. 4 Hickman dates back to about 1915. His fame was no more meteoric than that of the Original Dixieland Band. On the whole, Smith's implication is sound, although it is not a fact that all purveyors of hot either (i) starved from lack of work, or (2) made impossible concessions to sweet in order to earn a living. 28 Esquire's Jazz Book Louisiana Rhythm Kings, Red Nichols and His Five Pennies, Bix and His Gang, and such jazz-conscious individuals as Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, Jack Teagarden, Gene Krupa and Joe Sullivan. 5 Of course, not all collectors follow the historical path in their choice of records. There are innumerable enthusiasts who collect nothing but examples of Louis Armstrong's hot vocalizing and trumpeting. Some confine themselves to his more recent period of interpreting, oftentimes with great musical originality, sweet numbers such as Just a Gigolo, Love, You Funny Thing, etc. Others prize his early race records, Savoy Blues, West End Blues, etc., on many of which both Armstrong and Earl Hines, the great Negro pianist, are discernible; and on the early King Oliver records. This might be going far enough for most of us, but purists among collectors of Louis also insist upon ferreting out every vocal- the singer being secondary on which the hot Arm strong trumpet insinuates itself between phrases. 6 Some collectors want words as well as music. Curiously enough, it is not easy to satisfy this taste. The number of men who sing hot is extremely limited. Outstanding are Louis Arm strong, Negro, and Jack Teagarden, the latter being one of the few white men who sing with distinction. While there are many Negroes who sing hot some of them, like Cab Galloway, excel lentArmstrong is the greatest of them all. Teagarden is less spectacular but a favorite with collectors who prefer his vocalizing to that of any other white man in the business. And with good reason. Teagarden's best vocals are second to none. His trombone playing resembles his singing and, it might be truthfully said, vice versa. The quality of his voice suggests the burr of his trombone. 5 See chapter VI, The Historical Chart of Jazz Influence, for complete historical picture of hot bands and instrumentalists. 6 See chapter VIII for a complete Armstrong discography. Esquire on Jazz 2934- 1944 29 Collecting, in any line, need not be a matter of discrimination. One man collects nothing but records of I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate. Another secures for his albums every known recording of St. Louis Blues. On the face of it this would seem to be a rather harmless method of ridding one's self of one's money even though the chances are that on compositions such as the above, recordings might average five per cent hot. They might. However, that would still leave about fifty per cent corny symphonic versions, pseudo-hot concoctions, etc. and residue which, when the critical thermometer was applied, would register a decidedly hike-warm temperature. As for the five per cent, that is only because certain pieces, these being among them, lend themselves readily to hot playing. Tiger. Rag, Farewell Blues and Washboard Blues are examples of the species. These numbers have survived the "brief span" usu ally accorded jazz compositions. Modern parallels are Dinah and Sweet Sue. 7 From the point of view of collecting, jazz history wrote its greatest chapter in the Gennett period, the period of recordings by the bands mentioned early in this article, and one or two others. These records, pressed about ten years ago and now scarcely obtainable, represent the very purest of hot. Until they are re-recorded, however, most collectors will have to resort to more accessible examples. 8 7 See the December, 1943, Esquire for Robert GofEn's article, The Ten Best Jazz Tunes, for further discussion of what might be called The Evergreens of Jazz- popular tunes which have been played through the years because they were par ticularly suitable for hot solo variations. 8 Repressings of old recordings since have been issued in considerable .number, particularly during the past several years. Not only have private organizations reissued old or pressed new recordings of experienced hot men, but the big com mercial companies finally have dug into their files and come forth with many of die great jazz records of other days. Many, however, yet remain unissued and unobtainable except through collectors' channels. 30 Esquire's Jazz Book SOME LIKE IT HOT by CHARLES EDWARD SMITH (First published in April, 1936) A CONNOISSEUR of bot jazz, president of a recently formed organization known as the United Hot Clubs of America, was in Chicago to run some swing music into the hot groove for the English Continental record trade. The chances are if you're in the right town, no matter how large, you can find a bot musician though his name be as obscure to the public as that of Peck Kelly, the Texas pianist plugged by Jack Teagarden. Aware of this, he questioned a Negro musician of Chicago's south side. Did he remember Meade Lux Lewis who recorded Honky Tonk Train Blues about eight years ago? The musician said, Did he remem ber? Lewis was his best friend! Meade Lux Lewis was at work in a garage, directing the full play of a hose on a slightly dusty car. Yes, he said, he worked there, and, no, he had to admit, he hadn't played Honky Tonk Train Blues in seven or eight years. He'd try a hand at it two hands- if that was what was wanted. It was. And that was how Honky Tonk Train Blues happened to be re-recorded lately. Perhaps the most amazing case of rediscovery has to do with Sidney Bechet, the New Orleans Negro whose talent on reeds had become something of a legend, due to the limited number of records on which he played. Bechet had received considerable attention in the hot journals of England, France, and Belgium. He was known as the man who had shown some things about reeds to Larry Shields (Dixieland) and Leon Rappolo (New Orleans Rhythm Kings) . He was known even better as having conquered the Continent playing clarinet with Jim Europe's Esquire on Jazz 1934-1 $44 31 fabulous conglomeration of American Negro musicians. He had been mentioned, readers will recall, in these columns. Never theless, Bechet was making a modest living in Harlem not as an expert on reeds but as a tailor! One day a friend called at his flat. A little black and white kitten that knew the taste of Creole gumbo was -doing a flying trapeze act on the portieres. Bechet seemed worried. "Fve got to find a home for this kitten," he said. "Fm going on the road with Noble Sissle." That was something of a surprise, the visitor observed, since not long ago the primary concern seemed to be the last installment on a soprano saxophone. What had happened? "I used to work with Noble," Bechet said, "and this boy who owned the sax was in the band; I wrote Noble about it and he said he had been wanting to get in touch with me." More interesting than the rediscovery of individual talent is the continual discovery of talent in name bands, known in trade circles as "popular orks." The field is so wide that it would be impossible to list all of the promising material. In this search every hot musician is a scout and every name band a fertile field, whether it be acting well-behaved on a "pop" tune or serving up corn-on-the-cob with a pre-war label. The peak of the carousal incognito is of course the record date. Here there is no color line and you are tops whether you play in the Rainbow Room of Radio City or in a cellar in the Bronx. That is, if you play hot. Add to this set-up a bit of swing-age folk music instead of a "pop" tune and the boys have already forgotten that the scene is a prosaic recording studio where the control man is apt to tell them to "quit building a house," and the hour is about noon, tantamount to grayest dawn for a musician. The urge to swing is, as the French critics express it, terrific. The "take" light flashes on and the cast of characters 32 Esquire's Jazz Book for Apologies and Sendin' the Vipers (Mezz Mesirow's band) goes into action. Mezz, an old Chicagoan, 9 has credit for his record band but the baton is absent, Mesirow preferring a clarinet. He sits in with this all-in band and they keep that way for four sides, two of which RCA Victor released here and all of which have been released abroad. The flab-tone trumpet is Renald Jones from Chick Webb's ork. The hot trumpet is Max Kaminsky from the name band of Jacques Renard. Bud Freeman, also a Chicagoan and a master of the tenor sax, is one of the stars of the Ray Noble conglomeration. John Kirby, the string bass man, is with the new and well organized outfit brought into Roseland recently by Fletcher Henderson. Chick Webb is the percussion pappy of his own band and Floyd O'Brien interprets the slide trombone in the brass section of the Phil Harris ork. Bennie Carter, the alto sax, is touring France by this time and Willie Smith, piano, is, as the boys say, around town somewhere. 10 Let us take another pressing that stirred the hot brotherhood recently, the Columbia of Bughouse and Blues in E Flat by Red Norvo and His Swing Octet. Red has his own swing outfit (which is not the same as this record band) and is a graduate of the nighteries of 5znd Street in New York. He plays a xylophone. Red is always in the hot groove, and in Blues in E Flat, with 9 Author's Note: Chicagoan: Specifically, one who was in the record band, McKenzie & Condon's Chicagoans or Chicago Rhythm Kings. More generally, one who plays "Chicago" style, or a band playing this style. True Chicago style derives from the Dixieland style of New Orleans, modified by others. Ed. Note: Dispute has raged for years with regard the use of terms such as "Chicago style" and "New Orleans style," since there never has been any accepted standardized meaning of the phrases. An eloquent case against usage of the term "Chicago style" was contrived by critic Bob White in an article titled Chicago style?-Ws a Phony Myth! in the March, 1941, Music and Rhythm. 10 Kaminsky and Freeman are now in the armed services. Webb is dead. Kirby leads his own combination, as does Carter. Mesirow, Smith, O'Brien, and Renault are still "around town somewhere." Esquire on Jazz 2 $34-1 944 33 Teddy Wilson, piano (who solos at Famous Door) and Gene Krupa, traps (formerly w. Benny Goodman's Orchestra) con triving the ideal background, he plays what connoisseurs must admit is nothing less than a hot gamelon. The string bass is vari ously attributed to John Kirby'of Fletcher's band and Art Bern steinin vain do the critics of cacophony implore the record companies to list personnel not for each "date" but for each side! The guitar is the famed George Van Epps you recall the banjo playing Van Epps family and he is from Ray Noble's ensemble. Johnny Mince, clarinet, is a Noble-man. Chu Berry, tenor sax, hails from Fletcher's band. Jack Jenney, the Teagardenish trombone, was recently on the air in a Lennie Hayton series. Special mention should be made of the piano and cornet choruses which, with Norvo's send-off chorus, are the distinguishing features of the record. Teddy Wilson's piano playing in this , Blues reminds one, structurally, of a Bix chorus. It has sobriety, depth, and is implacably resolved. The cornet player is Bunny Berigan who left Benny Goodman's band to play on the air. Like Wilson and Krupa, his is an unmistakable talent. A clear full tone in clear patterns assails the ear. Berigan has considerable ability, and in scorning the ceiling-climbers he shows sincerity. This word sincerity has been worn pretty thin by the scribes and pharisees of Broadway but it is still the only word that links up hot musicians with their folk-music predecessors. 11 When hot men turn off the heat the resultant vacuity is as stifling as oxygen-less air. Hence the urge to praise them when they're all-in, the necessity to deprecate ceiling-climbing (high notes qua high notes) and other feats of a purely gymnastic nature. is now in the armed services. Berry and Berigan are dead. After leading his own band for four years, Knipa is back with Goodman. Jenney has fronted his own band, is now playing with Ace Hudkins. Wilson heads his own outfit. 34 Esquire's Jazz Book Various hot clubs have instituted jam sessions. These are the affairs, hitherto impromptu, at which the hot musicians from name bands "get off." The hot clubs have aroused the curiosity of the public. Patterned after the Rhythm Clubs abroad, with which they are affiliated, the United Hot Clubs of America are "dedicated to the universal progress of swing music" and "seek no personal gain." Among the founders of the clubs are some of the country's most prominent collectors of hot: John Ham mond of New York; Edwin M. Ashcraft III, of Chicago; William H. Coverdale, Jr., of Birmingham, Alabama; Marshall Stearns of New Haven, Conn. Their first act as a national entity was the repressing of China Boy and Bull Frog Blues on which Muggsy Spanier and Frank Teschemacher, clarinet, star of the old Chi- cagoans, are featured. The other band members had lives of their own (one was a dentist) and went back to them after making this one record. Their intention (U.H.C.A.'s) is to release further out-of-print numbers and perhaps also wax special pressings. 12 JAM IN THE NINETIES by E. SIMMS CAMPBELL (First published in December, IN THE LATE eighties and early nineties, the era of tinsel and gilt, heavy furniture and mustache cups, SWING was born. Where it was born is particularly important, because this may account for its irrelevance and utter rowdyism, its very elemental nature. Memphis, St. Louis and a host of Southern towns claim credit although New Orleans seems logically to have the preference 12 The Hot Club movement has resulted mainly in the reissuance of old records and the pressing of new ones featuring great hot talent. The United Hot Clubs of America have issued some 50 such records since 193.7, Esquire on Jazz 1934- 2 $44 35 because of the great number of ragtime Negro musicians gathered there. At this time New Orleans was steeped in wickedness, bawdy houses running full blast, faro games on most street corners and voluptuous Creole beauties soliciting trade among the welter of gamblers, steamboat men and hustlers of every nationality. New Orleans was not unique in this respect, as most American cities had their proscribed red-light district, but New Orleans was more colorful. Spaniards, Italians, Germans, French and French Negro, Swedish and a great spattering of Portuguese and all of them speaking Creole, the handy bastard French, the patois French which even today has not changed one iota from its original form. Here in this port of all nationalities, this western hemisphere Marseilles, came a conglomerate group of itinerant musicians- coon shouters, honky-tonks, black butt players (Negro musicians who could not read music) all of them seeking their pot of gold in this paradise of pleasure. Most of them had little or no training in their respective instruments but they had a rhythm and a timing that appealed to the catholic tastes of this segment of America. The sky was the limit in hot ballads and there was no such thing as controlled music. New York was too far away and New Orleans was the mecca of entertainment to these South ern minstrels. True, respectable New Orleans as well as respectable America sang and played Irish ditties or saccharine sentimental tear jerkers Whisper Your Mother's Name r The Curse of Saloons and the Little Nellie's Gone Astray creations. All America cried in its beer over them, but the gulf was too wide for pleasure-loving America to span, from Stephen Foster's Old Folks at Home to the sedate piano music (song and chorus) of the horsehair parlor days. Barbershop chords were all right, too, but New Orleans had gone on a bender and when a man or a city goes pleasure-mad they want music with "umph" something that's on the naughty 36 Esquire's Jazz Book side, that tickles the senses, that starts them bunny-hugging. Ragtime filled this bill perfectly. Possibly the first ragtime .number originated in a bagnio and I know of more than a score that were actually created in them, having; traced them back to the musicians who wrote them, ^ tracing others through musicians who had played in bands with the original composer although I must confess that nothing is harder actually to track down than a musical score. It is stolen from so many sources the so-called Classics are dipped in and musicians are as jealous and touchy about giving credit to their fellows as prima donnas. A few of the numbers I actually saw created, written all over the backs of envelopes and policy number slips in all-night joints in St. Louis (pardon my misspent youth) and I have heard these same numbers, fifteen years later, presented for the edification of swing enthusiasts on the concert stage. Without mentioning names, many of our greatest swing artists have played, at some time or another, in these dens of iniquity or halls of learning, according to your esthetic tastes. One thing, you may be certain, they were never created in a classroom where harmony and composition were taught. It is sometimes sad to contemplate, but few lasting contributions to popular music have ever been born in cloistered surroundings. Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-Dee-A was written in the house of Babe Connors, one of the more colorful Negro madams, in 1894. It was essentially ragtime in 4/4 time, the name rag being given because the playing was ragged one played between the beats, not on them, just as swing today is irregular but is played in a faster tempo a stepped-up version. Every house with any pretentions to class had a beautiful mahogany upright piano, strewn with the usual bric-a-brac, cupid, Daphne and Apollo and ornate throws and the ever-present mandolin attachment. It added tone. A friend of mine who used Esquire on Jazz 193 4-1 $44. 37 to play the piano in the famous Everleigh Club of Chicago men tioned that they had a gold piano where he composed many a piece and where his tips were the highest he had ever received, then or since. These madams were ever on the hunt for good musicians, but particularly good piano players, as a piano could be toned down and the less noise in the wee hours of the morning, the better. Possibly a tired Romeo could be coaxed into spending just a little more if the music fitted in with his mood. The usual procedure would be to invite the chosen entertainer to stay at the house while he was in the city and musicians at that time were not getting any hundred a week for their*playing and his cakes and coffee were free, with, of course, all the liquor he wished to hold. He could play any way he wanted to as long as he was good, and he could improvise all he wanted just so long as he didn't stop. No matter how often he played certain numbers, the audience was continually changing. Here, when liquor, used to fight off exhaustion, had befogged the brain, many of the discordant and eerie chords were born. I have talked with many a swing musician who has admitted that he has improvised these weird minor chords in these houses and one of them used to chew calabash weed to keep him going. Because of the tremendous amount of energy needed to play four to six shows a day, and then doubling every night to augment their meager wages, many musicians fell into this pernicious habit. Negro musicians were paid next to nothing, the finer white dance halls barring them, and their greatest revenue came from playing "gigs" (outside jobs special groups of three or four who were especially hired to play for wealthy white patrons at private house parties) and in playing in the finest sporting houses. You must remember at that time that Negroes had no union of their own, were not admitted to white unions, and it was 38 Esquires Jazz Book impossible for them to market their songs unless they sold them outright to white publishers-and the top price was fifteen dol lars, with ten being about the average. These smart publishers would keep the scores of songs stowed away in drawers, much as a man keeps gilt edged bonds, and at a propitious time they would revise here and there-change the title and lo!-a popular hit tune was often launched on the market in New York. It often made a song writer who never would have reached the top unless he had the ideas of these Negroes to fall back on. 13 True, many a white musician shared the same fate, but he was not continually relegated to the bottom as were these early-day Negro pioneers. This shunting aside naturally made the Negro draw into himself. With no outlet to exchange ideas on music other than with members of his own race, he became more and more essen tially Negroid in musical feeling and in interpretation. Jam sessions are as old as the hills among them it was their only medium of expressing themselves, of learning -and it was the training school for the colored boy who hoped some day to become an accomplished musician. None of them had enough money to study his instrument, learning everything he knew from these early jam sessions, improvising and going ahead purely on natural ability. All of them patterned their playing after some musical giant who was the legendary John Henry of his day, some powerful cornetist or piano playing fool whose exploits on his chosen instrument were known throughout colored America. Camp meetings, funerals and lodge dances gave the embryo musician his first chance, and much later, about 1908 I believe, when the T. O. B. A. (Theatrical Owners Booking Agency) was formed, these musicians as well as entertainers had an oppor- 13 The uninitiated may greet this fact with skepticism. The truth of it cannot be denied, however, as a little personal research would soon reveal. Esquire on Jazz /^.j^-/^^ 39 tunity to play before small theatres in the colored sections of various cities. Before that time, minstrels and itinerant peddlers of tunes would go from town to town, but because of the precarious way in which they made a living, many towns never had an oppor tunity to hear them. Now this was all changed. Bessie Smith, Mamie Smith, Ma Rainey, Ida Cox, Clarence Williams, Butter- beans and Susie, all great names in the "Blues" constellation to Negroes throughout the United States, were swinging and play ing the Blues years before white America recognized them. Tom Turpin of St. Louis, Scott Joplin, Jelly Roll Morton were the early great swing pianists, and by great I mean that their piecTes were as intricate as Bach. They wrote trick arrangements, excit ing tempos, difficult passages, and at this time the great Handy was writing. Atlanta Blues, St. Louis Blues, New Orleans Blues, Memphis Blues, Beale Street Blues, Rampart Blues, Market Street Blues all these were written before 1912 just about the time Benny Goodman was three years old. And later the great flood of records, records that are now collectors' items to the swing enthusiast. A respectable family of the nineteen twenties would not be found dead with any of these abominable discs in its home. All through the nineteen twenties, came this endless stream of Blues records and who bought them? Dealers did not and the chances are ten thousand to one that you haven't five of them in your collection. They were a solace to Negro domestics, who, after working for hours over laundry tubs, mopping floors and shining brass, would go to the dingy comfort of a one-room flat in the Negro tenements and there put these records on their victrolas. It was a release from things whitethey could hum- pat their feet and be all colored. "Blues, blues jes' as blue as ah can be No good man done lef ' and lef ' po' me." 40 Esquire's Jazz Book Sporting houses were possibly the next best bets for these records and they bought them by the armful. The records sold for fifty cents with a top price of seventy-five and they were con tinually needing replacement as the patrons would play certain favorites over and over again until the grooves in the discs were worn down. Every joint from New Orleans all through the Delta up to St. Louis, Kansas City, Chicago, Detroit, on out to the coast had stacks of these records. Dim lights and the Blues heady music as intoxicating as any of the wares for sale. SWING IS FROM THE HEART by B. S. ROGERS (First published in April } 293$) can't make you feel swing but can words make you feel what is contained in any kind of music? If you have gone to a concert to hear one of Beethoven's last quartets and have responded to it, the next morning you can probably recapture your experience by reading Olin Downes' or Lawrence Gil- man's review. Moreover, you can learn how Beethoven used the technical material of music to arouse that response in you. That is all. No amount of eloquence on the part of the eminent reviewers can make you respond if you didn't do so the night beforeand certainly their words will be just words (very fancy ones, to be sure) if you didn't hear the quartet in the first place. The latter is an important point because many people say they can't understand swing, when the truth is that they have never heard it. They have heard commercial dance bands; they may even have heard celebrated swing bands playing commercial music, but they haven't heard a hot outfit playing hot music. 14 1 * If ^ the implication here is that no big commercial bands, so-called, ever play hot music, it must be put down as misleading. The author himself elucidates this point Esquire on Jazz 7^34-7^44 41 For it is my conviction that anyone who isn't tone-deaf (a physical disability) or ultra-refined (a psychological disability) can learn to appreciate and enjoy swing. If, then, you know in advance that my words can only help you understand what a swing musician tries to do and how he goes about it, and cannot substitute for the musician himself, you will not be disappointed. Swing is an art, and there is no short cut to the appreciation of any art. But what does the word mean? After all, swing, like jazz, doesn't mean merely an emphatic and powerful rhythm. It means that and more. The "more" is the relationship between the rhythm and the melody of the composition, plus the tones achieved by the performers on the melodic instruments, plus the manner of playing the notes, plus the effects created by pauses, "breaks," etc. The result is an intoxicating sensation a sense of dancing breathlessly through space which may be felt by any willing listener. Now we're down to brass tacks. What, in musical terms, does the listener hear? The basis of swing is syncopated music in 4/4 time. In ordi nary 4/4 time that is, in folk and classical music the accent is on the first and ^hird of the four beats which make up the measure. In syncopation the accent is on the second and fourth beats (the offbeats) . The best jazz has the greatest amount of syncopation, while in commercial dance music the syncopation is weakened and sub dued. There is more to the story than that. It is possible to get strongly syncopated dance music which is not particularly good jazz. The question is what is happening on top of the synco pated 4/4 measure? in more detail later in his article. It is true, of course, that most of the' jazz heard by most people is not of the hot kind if hot jazz is taken to mean jazz containing varying degrees of that elusive element a sincere art-quality 4Z Esquire's Jazz Book Above the bass-the unchanging, ever-recurring meter with its strangely upsetting offbeats-which is maintained by the rhythm section of the band, the melodic section plays music which is rhythmically contrapuntal to it. This means simply that the wind and reed instruments (trumpet, trombone, clarinet, sax) are creat ing a rhythm which is startlingly diif erent from the one laid down by the percussion group (drums, piano, guitar, string bass). The former are playing not just one but a whole sequence of different rhythms~an almost infinite variety of them in a single piece- which oppose or contrast with the base rhythm, yet correspond with it at certain definite points. Now you should be aware of one of the most striking distinc tions between jazz and the Guy Lombardo type of music. In Lombardo's band the melodic and rhythm sections usually play in exactly the same rhythm. Now, too, you should realize how jazz is distinguished from a piece of classical music which has contrapuntal rhythms. In jazz there is always an insistent rhythm, a rigid bass, against which the varying rhythms are played. But when there are contrapuntal rhythms in classical music, all the rhythms are varying: none of them persists unchanged through out the composition. (I know there are exceptions to this rule.) The importance of the instrumentalists who maintain the in sistent rhythm can't be overemphasized, for the forceful synco pation on which swing music is founded comes to a large degree from them. But they alone don't by any means make jazz. It is the work of the melodic section that really determines whether a band is swinging or not in other words, whether it is playing hot music or mere ting-a-ling. I spoke before of rhythms being created by the wind and reed instruments. The word "created" is the clue. The men perform ing on the melodic instruments are improvising. They are invent ing rhythms as they go along. Moreover, they are developing an Esquire on Jazz 7^54-7;^ 43 original melodic line. Each man in a small band each group in a big one-is creating his own melodic line. But these melodic lines are not only rhythmically contrapuntal to the bass rhythm; they are contrapuntal, both rhythmically and melodically, to each other. So now you know what a musician thinks when he hears that phrase, "collective improvisation," which has been so glibly bandied about by people who haven't the slightest idea wliat it actually means. 15 Think of what the improviser is doing. At the same time that he is creating an original melodic line, inventing. or adapting hot licks to the mood and tempo of the piece he is playing, he must keep in mind the tune he started out with as the harmonic back ground, for his improvisation is within the outline of the piece as written. His chords are developments of the written chords. If they aren't, they don't belong; they are forced, artificial, corny. In collective improvisation where there are several improvisers performing simultaneously (a jam session) he is not only listen ing to the base rhythm and remembering the written chordal structure, but is also subconsciously listening to the improvisa tions of the performers beside him. There must, after all, be some relationship between the various melodic lines; there must be agreements as well as contrasts in rhythm and melody. The crucial factor in the last chorus or jam session is the quality of the clash, known in music as cacophony. The melodic lines do conflict in places not because the players deliberately decide that that is what they want, but because that is the nature of the music. That is hot music. If you were to write a score which includes all the melodic lines, you would realize that its 15 Note carefully the paragraphs immediately following. In his next article, which actually is Part II of this one, Rogers approaches jazz improvisation in more detail, argues that the jazz purists push the point too far. The word improvisation, when it is applied to jazz performances, requires an understanding of the limitations of the term so applie.d. See an article titled Musicians' Ignorance Shackles Jazz in the June, 1941, Music and Rhythm; another, Musicians Are Lazy and Jam Sessions Are the Bunk in the March, 1941, issue. 44 Esquire's Jazz Book texture is genuinely polymelodic. Polymelody is music in which each of the parts being simultaneously played has a melodic significance, as distinguished from a homophonic treatment of music (a sonata, for example), where one part stands out as the prominent melody while the others are merely support or accompaniment. Now, in all polymelody there is cacophony, clash, discordant sound call it what you will. Isn't it curious, then, that critics should take cacophony for granted in, say, the music of Bach, but object to it in jazz? Is it because in jazz they have no discrimination don't know how to tell cacophony that is valid from that which is not? The question is plainly whether the discords are exciting, stirring or merely disagreeable. Simple examples, but among the best produced in recent years: Tiger Rag and China Boy by the Benny Goodman Trio; Runnin* Wild and Ida by the Goodman Quartet. Improvisation is the soul of jazz. Without it there is a body but no personality. Listen to a performance which hasn't got it (and what you're listening to is probably routine dance music), and you take nothing away; no emotion, no feeling of energy, no impression of character. It isn't necessary in fact, it's im possiblefor every man in a large band to improvise. Sometimes one man does it against the normal rhythmic background, while the other melodic instruments quietly support the rhythm sec tion. Sometimes an entire group does it: the saxes, perhaps, while the brass ensembles provide a harmonic accompaniment. No matter how it's done, the music called jazz its surprising, shock ing rhythms, its colors and fascinating contrapuntal effects is produced by improvisation. Without it the music is dull, flat, nerveless. It isn't jazz. At its best the improvisation is ephemeral. Take a man with a fertile imagination and great skill who is working with a con genial band, and after a while, when the atmosphere that is Esquire on Jazz 1934-1944 45 generated is truly hot, when they are all playing with a passion and each is stimulating the other not only by his own invention but also by his elaboration of the other's rhythms and melodic figures, he will swing out in a burst of inspiration which comes straight from the heart. You must not be afraid of that sugary phrase. From the heart is precisely the way they play. Their emotions are intense in such a moment; they are feeling. You may say that they are simple people, that at least they are not very cultivated if they can be so moved by such music. Quite right. Jazz wasn't created by intellectuals. It was created by common folk. But since an appreciation of Mozart doesn't preclude an appre ciation of jazz, intelligent people can and do enjoy it. They do so not in a spirit of slumming, but because no matter how culti vated you may be you are also capable of unsophisticated emotions of raw tempers, simple melancholy, violent passion, and slap stick comedy, and even moments of vulgarity. And surely you are capable of being delighted and moved by fantastic musical colors and extremely complex yet basically savage rhythms. If you aren't, you are too refined to live in this world. HOW MUSIC GETS HOT by B. S. ROGERS (First published in May, IMPROVISATION from the heart can't be completely captured and set down on paper. How can the musician, after he has cooled off, recall in every detail his extraordinary hot licks? How can he remember exactly the way he sustained this note or shortened that one? The way he ornamented a written phrase with porta- menti? The way he graced certain notes? The way he put in 46 Esquire's Jazz Book some notes and skipped others altogether? The way he paused here and there to create tension and suspense and break the rhythm? He can't. Given the conditions in which he first im provised, he will be able to play something that closely resembles his original performance. The repetition may be just as good or better or not so good, but whatever it is, it -isn't absolutely identical with the first effort. If you want to find out for your self, next time you are listening to a top, hot outfit ask the leader to repeat a number they have just played. Better still, compare Bix Beiderbecke's trumpet solos in the Memorial Alburn issued by Victor with the original releases of the same numbers. The critical pamphlet by Warren Scholl which accompanies the album explains the unusual situation: "It was quite common in 1928 (when most of the records under discussion were made) to make several masters of every number, the orchestra playing its selec tion several different times and each performance being taken down on wax from which masters were manufactured. Then, if anything happened to the first choice masters, there would always be'two or three others from which to pick a second choice. Where straight dance or symphony music was concerned, the two versions of the same selection were practically identical, but in the case of extemporaneous hot music the story was a bit different because stars like Bix and 'Tram (Trumbauer) created something new every time they improvised around a given theme. Therefore, the release of a record pressed from an unused master is comparable to the issuing of a brand new record. . . . With a few exceptions, every record in this album has been pressed up from a master other than the one used originally." Obviously, jazz owes a great deal to the phonograph. In classical music a composition is made permanent by being written, and the performer's task is to interpret it as faithfully and intelli gently as he can, In jazz the composition is the performance Esquire on Jazz 1^4-1^44 47 itself, so that the performer is everything. 16 His work, his con tribution to the musical idiom, can only be made permanent by the -wax platter. The phonograph has enabled men to improve their own licks: I have seen musicians listening to a performance of their own, studying what was wrong or stale and what was right or fresh, so they could develop further variations in phras ing .and produce a finer rendition of the particular piece. More over, I have seen young musicians (and older ones, too) play the records of the great instrumentalists over and over again 16 This sweeping statement implies that neither composers nor arrangers have a place in hot jazz. Unless hot jazz is limited purely and entirely to performances by small instrumental combinations and there is no good reason why it should be this is not the case. Any attempt to categorize the vocalized Blues section of Ellington's Black, Brown and Beige or his Ko-Ko } Henderson's Rocky Mountain Blues, Goodman's Sing, Sing, Sing, the Berigan version of five Beiderbecke com positions, or any of scores of othersany attempt, I say, to put these down as ex clusively the efforts of performers and yet outside the realm of hot jazz because they fail to adhere to that narrow formula: such an idea must be labeled ridiculous and not in harmony with the facts. Duke Ellington is one salient example of a composer who 'writes and scores his music; true, it is scored for specific instru mentalists, but it is, nevertheless, scored and is dependent upon the performer only to the degree that a sonata or concerto are dependent upon performers; that is to say, for the interpretation. What Raymond Scott had to say on this subject in the November, 1940, Music and Rhythm bears directly on the issue. Scott put it this way, and there can be no .questioning his argument: "Jazz is too young to have developed the artistic technique of playing freely and gracefully from writ ten notes. Jazz playing is not a technique that has been going on for hundreds of years. It has not yet developed the skill to interpret another's creation with the same complete abandon that improvisation inspires. . . . Improvised jazz is tailor-made jazz, in the sense that the player molds material of his own choice in his own way the way that is most natural and therefore easiest for him. But if written notes are not ideally suited to the mood and style and conception of the individual player, the quality of his true artistry is revealed by the degree of warmth and electricity with which he plays the notes. It takes years to develop a tradition of that kind: a lot more years than it has taken to produce a Coleman Hawkins, a Sidney Bechet, or a Louis Armstrong. Assuming the mechanical expert- ness of their reading ability, these men could undoubtedly touch off another's crea tion with the spark of genuine artistry. ... It is quite probable that jazz will develop a tradition of a sort in another generation. It will be in the hands of the composers (for the creation of written works) and the players (for the technically correct but warmly emotional interpretation of them). Composers really are impro- visers who create more slowly, more carefully, than the spontaneous jazz impro- viser. But the great jazz player, the natural jazz player, can take the composer's annotated 'improvisation 1 and make of it a thing of beauty." 48 Esquire's Jazz Book to study what the latter did and how their stuff could be adapted to different styles. The phonograph has also enabled musicians to imitate the styles of their betters, and even to memorize com plicated original licks-and there is a great deal to be said in favor of this practice, for a secondhand good job is better than a firsthand bad job. Without such imitation the achievements of the foremost improvisers could not have been absorbed into the necessary tradition of swing. 17 But I do not want to carry this thing too far. Mr. Scholl did, I think, in the passage quoted above. While it is true that a hot improvisation can't be completely recaptured, a competent musi cian can repeat himself closely enough so that the average listener won't be affected by what differences there may be between the two jobs. After all, such matters as the length of a pause and the shortening of a note are rather subtle, and only an experienced listener can detect and react to them. Sometimes, in fact, a melodic line is so simple in structure, so emphatic and clean-cut, that the musician can remember it perfectly, although his delivery may vary in intensity from one performance to the next. A striking, clearly outlined phrase can, indeed, be written quite satisfactorily. It is also worth noting at this point that a written score can direct and control improvisations. Indeed, the performance of a large band, containing something like three trumpets, two trom bones, and three or four saxes, is almost inconceivable without such a score. Thus, an arranger like Fletcher Henderson or Duke Ellington will not only indicate where a solo improvisation should occur and for how many bars, but will also write in the harmonic chords for the soloist's guidance. That is just to say, an outline 17 Rogers' emphasis is well placed. Probably no hot jazz instrumentalist exists that will not freely admit that phonograph records have inspired him that what began as imitation ended in the creation of a personal individualized style of playing. Esquire on Jazz 2^34-1^44 49 is provided a pattern which enables the soloist to improvise music which bears some sought-after relationship to the music being played by the others (both individuals and groups or sec tions). Without that annotated chordal structure, the perform ance would probably be a mess, for you can't expect eight or nine wind and reed instruments to wander around and still make sense. But this should not be misunderstood; arrangers or composers of hot music don't write melodic lines for their soloists, but merely the material from which the soloists can get off. 1 ' 18 This brings up a question: why improvise? Most people who have only recently "discovered" swing put the question this way: why does a jazz musician take a popular song and make some thing so different out of it that you can't recognize the tune he started out with? Benny Goodman once answered it by saying that after a musician has played a tune over and over again what can he do but "kick it around"? Although that confirms my remark about jazz performers being bored with straight playing, it doesn't really answer the question. It does, however, hint at part of the answer by implying that Tin Pan Alley melodies are usually such poor stuff that they can't stand up under frequent repetition. They are too obvious, monotonous, and therefore dull. This gets us to the real answer: the performers are musicians. They want to create; they want to speak out for themselves; they want to test, exploit, and develop the potentialities of their instruments; they want to arouse the audience by the new and interesting things they do. There are great traditions behind them 18 True; but as already suggested, the get-off is merely the instrumentalist's inter pretation of the composer's musical idea, and the effectiveness with which the idea is conceived bears a direct relationship to the artistic unity of any given piece of jazz music. Of course, as Rogers proclaims, the quality, or lack of quality, of the original composition has a great deal to do with the validity of complete free dom of interpretation by the instrumentalist (as in the case of current popular songs), or the more disciplined effort to interpret a composer's conception of a qualitative melody (as in the case of an Ellington). 50 Esquire's Jazz Book for all of this, but my point is made when I repeat that Tin Pan Alley manufactures pretty poor stuff. The average commercial melody is rarely as interesting as the original melodic line in vented by a good performer in a hot jazz band. Anyone who can read music will agree. Here the question naturally arises: what is good improvisation? How does one tell good improvising from bad? The answer, briefly, is that the performer's melodic line must be both interest ing and logical. It must be logical not only in the sense that it has a definite connection with the harmonic base provided by the written tune, but also in that its own development is a convincing progression from the phrase with which he gets off. If it isn't logical in the latter sense, it is a broken or distorted line. What makes it interesting is variety in phrasing (which is to say that a given combination of notes must not be repeated too often) plus rhythmic variety. That is about as technical as I can be in my desire to define the simple statement that his melodic line is interesting when it is at once pleasing and stimulating. With a little experience and a fair ear, you should be able to tell it. The only thing that remains to be said is probably the most important thing of all. Our discussion of swing has so far dealt chiefly with its form and contents; now we must consider its voice. For music, like oratory, is not only something said, but something said in a certain way; and since (perhaps not altogether unlike oratory) it appeals exclusively to the emotions, the manner of delivery is crucial. The manner of delivery in jazz has been given a descriptive label: "the hot intonation." This way of playing has several remarkable features. To begin with, the way a note is attacked in jazz differs sharply from the way it is attacked in classical performance. In the latter the attack is gradual in volume but constant in pitch, and the change in volume is upward from soft to loud. In jazz both volume and pitch change; the note Esquire on Jazz 1934- 1944 51 is attacked full, then diminished in volume, while the pitch drops too. The second point is the technique of slurring, i.e., sliding from one note to another without the slightest pause. In classical performance, on the other hand, each note is attacked individually and cleanly. What results from the jazz technique is the sounding of tones which are foreign to classical music. The smallest recognized interval in Western music is the semi tone. But when you pass from one note to the next without pausing, as you do in jazz, you pass through the quarter-tone, eighth-tone, sixteenth, etc. Thirdly, there is the extremely im portant phenomenon of vibrato. In classical performance vibrato is permitted only to the string instruments. The brasses and reeds are strictly disciplined to play without benefit of the pulsating quality which gives a musical sound its tension its nerve, so to speak. To describe the effect of this way of playing music to describe, that is, what the listener hears is scarcely possible. Certain things we can indeed pick out: the introduction of frac tional tones, especially quarters and eighths, is strange and dis tinctly stimulating; the vibrato of the wind instruments imparts a feeling of suppressed passion; the barely perceptible diminuendo which follows each note is subtly suggestive of melancholy. But the total effect is something that must be left to the individual. MUSIC AFTER MIDNIGHT by JAMES W. POLING (First published in ]une, 1936) jMusic is a generic term covering a multitude of sounds. Some people take their music in the form of opera, some prefer sym phonic music, others are aroused by a hillbilly band and, I am 52 Esquire's Jazz Book told, there are even those who go for crooners* in a big way. Since I am fairly catholic in my tastes, I can listen to any of these forms of music without experiencing active nausea. But, for my money, give me hot music, music with a swing. Music after midnight. You might call it jazz. I don't. Jazz has become an ambiguous phrase. Today jazz means different things to different people. A decade or so ago jazz music and hot music were synonymous. To the knowing, jazz will always refer to a particular type of music which, in order to differentiate, I must call hot. But the majority of people today call any form of popular dance music jazz. And, sad to relate, far too much of what is commonly called jazz is, in my book, corny stuff played in the groove by a long-underwear gang. When I refer to jazz music I mean the red jazz and not the synthetic stuff which is customarily passed out to today's unsuspecting and gullible public. 19 Hot music requires an appropriate setting. Informality is the keynote of this setting. Your own home or apartment will do nicely. Otherwise I prescribe the followinga small, intimate club, crowded, usually to the point of actual discomfort, and hazy with smoke. The hour is already later than is good for you; so, in resignation, you decide to stay a couple of hours more. After all, if you are going to feel bad on the morrow you might as well be thorough about it. When you look at the swizzle stick in your hand you realize, with perverse pleasure, that you've already given your wrist more exercise than your head will approve of. So you tell the waiter, "Another of the same." 19 Ever since the mid 1920'$, jazz has meant many things to many people, and it is doubtful if today, any less than in June, 1936, when this article was written, or 1928 when Guy Lombardo was the rage, the general public differentiates precisely between types of popular music and their relative artistic merits. Swing and sweet, however, have become widely accepted categories: broadly speaking, the former includes hot jazz. Esquire on Jazz 1 934-1 944 53 And, what is all important, on the platform at the end of the room is a jam band that knows its way to town and evejry member of that band is a brilliant soloist who, when told to get off, is a genius at producing hot "riffs." Perhaps the band itself will be backed up by a singer who knows how to swing and how to sell his stuff. In other words, a hot spot. When I say that most of what passes as jazz today is corny stuff, I am applying to it the most scornful phrase in the musi cian's vocabulary. To define it succinctly, corny (derived from "cornfed") means out-of-date, rustic, old fashioned. A long- undergear gang is a sweet band, a band that specializes in music fit only for amorous morons and as a background for nasal-toned crooners. The band of my heart's desire knew, I said, its way to town. In other words it knew syncopation and how to play it properly. Each member of that band when told to get off when given an unscored solo break (as a matter of fact a jam band always plays without scores) can produce "riffs" inspired, improvised, syncopated musical phrases. And the singer with the outfit can do with his or her voice just what the soloist can do with his instrument, he can give. Hot music is a music of the soul. No musician, no matter how accomplished technically, can play hot unless it is in him, unless it is in his blood, his heart, his soul. The hot man, when he goes into one of those spontaneous, highly syncopated solos, is as intoxicated with his music as is his appreciative auditor. Hot doesn't necessarily refer to music that is loud and fast; it may very well be soft and relaxed. Hot refers to a musical idiom and attitude, not to a tempo. The lifeblood of hot music is ad lib variations on a simple theme; counterpoint, particularly 54 Esquire's Jazz Book of the fourth or syncopated variety, involved harmonies, and syncopation, in which the accent is shifted to the unstressed part of a beat or measure. Hot music is generally polyphonic music composed of melo dies that support one another, as contrasted to hornophonic music in which the melody is supported by chords. BLUES ARE THE NEGROES' LAMENT by E. SIMMS CAMPBELL (First published in December, FIRST off, let me say that I am no musical critic, neither do I look upon myself as a fumbling layman appreciating the Blues form in American music from the pew of an enthusiastic but in coherent follower of Le Jazz Hot, that strange hybrid that has ripened in France under the aegis of Monsieur Hugues Panassie, who has an ear to the ground as well as an ear for Le Jazz Hot. Not that M. Panassie is insincere; neither are " jitterbugs" insin cere, but an intellectual approach to Blues that borders on the ridiculous with the attendant erudite mumbo-jumbo, is doing one of the purest forms of American music much more harm than good. It is not necessary to form a cult, to read hidden meanings and mystical expressions as well as pretentious symbolism into something as elemental as Blues. Books, essays and reams of scholarly European treatises have been written extolling jazz, the Blues and all of the music that American Negroes have written and played and it can only be forgiven because of the grossest ignorance on the part of intellectuals who delight in faddism. Esquire on Jazz 19 3 4- 1944 55 There was in this country a "Negro Renaissance" as they called it when every Negro who was literate was looked upon as a "find." New York in 1925 and '26 was the hotbed of Intel lectual Parties where Negroes who were in the theatre were looked upon as social plums, and the dumbest and most illiterate were fawned over by Park Avenue Negro Art had arrived African Art Negro music with Carl Van Vechten, recently turned candid camera addict, as its Jehovah. I know what I am talking about because I attended many of these parties and the "Intellectual stink" could have been cut with a knife a dull knife. The Blues are simple, elemental they have the profound depths of feeling that are found in any race that has known slavery and the American Negro is no stranger to suffering. Out of the work songs and Spirituals that they sang sprang this melancholic note rising in a higher key because of its very in tensity and enveloping the Spirituals because of its very earthiness. One cannot continually ride in chariots to God when the impact of slavery is so ever-present and real. "Some day ah'm gonna lay down dis heavy load gonna grab me a train, gonna clam aboh'd gonna go up No'th, gonna ease mah pain- Yessuh Lord, gonna catch dat train" this isn't mystical. It was the cry of a human being under the lash of slavery of doubts of fears the tearing apart of families the caprices of plantation owners these hardships of slavery all fusing themselves together to burn into the Negro this blue flame of misery. And yet it was never a wail, but a steady throbbing under tone of hope. "Times is bad but dey won't be bad always" is the lyric carried in a score of Blues songs times are tough but somehow, somewhere, they'll get better. "Gotta git better 'cause dey can't git w'us" stevedores sweat ing on the levee, chain gangs in Georgia, cotton pickers in Ten- 56 Esquire's Jazz Book nessee, sugar cane workers in Louisiana, field hands *in Texas, all bending beneath the heel of Southern white aristocracy, the beautiful "befo de wah" South of the crinoline days. One might as well be realistic about slavery. The South was as cruel as any Caesar to its slaves and many slaves were as vindictive as any Richelieu to their masters, but both sides have profited. Without pain and suffering, there would have been no Blues; and without an understanding white America, there would have been no expression for them. And now-what are the Blues and into what category of music do they fit? They are not Spirituals and they are not work songs nor do they fit into the pattern prescribed by many musical critics as folk music in a lighter vein. To me they are filled with the deepest emotions of a race, they are songs of sorrow charged with satire, with that potent quality of ironic verse clothed in the raiment of the buffoon. They were more than releases, temporary releases from servitude. The Blues were the gateway to freedom for all American Negroes. In song, the Negro expressed his true feelings, his hopes, aspirations and ideals, and illiterate though many of them were, there was a spiritual and ennobling quality to all of the music. True, many of the Blues lyrics are downright vulgar and the suggestive quality has crept in with the passing years, under standable enough when you realize that many audiences, both white and colored, wished to find those meanings in them. As paid entertainers, Negroes were only catering to popular taste and the taste of the American public in the mauve decade was de cidedly that of a slumming party toward any reception of Blues. They did not wish to hear lamentations in any form; they wanted something "hot" knowing nothing of Blues other than that they were "dirty"-- they received what they expected. As court jester, the Negro had long since learned that his very Esquire on Jazz 1934-1944 57 existence depended upon his ability to please the white man. One was either a "good nigger," who acquiesced to the wishes of the plantation owner or overseer and lived, or a "bad nigger," one who had decided ideas about what he would or wouldn't do and who usually died. A race that has been continually on the defensive for so many years has developed a keen sense of impending danger and the Blues grew out of this form of protection. Melancholy though they were, they .could be interpreted a hundred ways, but the circumstances under -which they were sung had everything to do with their proper interpretation. Basically, the Blues are similar to Spirituals and it is important to note that the musical bars are practically the same length. For those musically minded, take the song Minnie the Moocher or St. James Infirmary. The Spiritual H old onKeep Your Hands on the Plow is identical with them and it was written more than forty years ago. There is a definite pattern to the Blues, just as there is for poetry and other forms of creative expression that have survived the centuries. The Blues-always consists of 12 bars the C yth after the first 4 bars the F chord and the remainder of the piece is essentially the same. An original Blues composition must be original in the first four bars, the next four bars are merely relief then one returns to the major chords. Often one hears pieces on the radio termed Blues which are merely hybrid products because some well-known orchestra insists on stepping up 12 bars to 24 or even 32. This is Swing as we know it today, but it has nothing in common with the Blues, and as Clarence Williams told me, "the flavor and color are taken from the Blues 'when one tries variations and liberties with their original form." 20 20 Present day "variations and liberties" with the original Blues form cannot properly be described as having "nothing in common with the Blues." Campbell's 58 Esquires Jazz Book Clarence Williams is now a music publisher in New York who has written hundreds of Blues and who I think, as do many of America's finest musicians, is the greatest living Blues writer. If you know Blues at all, I'll give you a few of his compositions and then perhaps you'll know this man better. He wrote Sister Kate, Royal Garden Blues, Gulf Coast Blues, West End Blues, Sugar Blues, Squeeze Me, I Ain't Gonna Give Nobody None of My Jellyroll, I Can't Dance, and that greatest of all Blues, unless, of course, you are a St. Louis Blues fanatic, the piece Baby, Worit You f lease Come Home. When he was fourteen he wrote the Michigan Water Blues: "Michigan water, taste like champagne wine Michigan water, taste like champagne wine Ah'm going back to Michigan To see that gal of mine . . ." This naturally led us into a discussion of the fact that Blues, as we know them today, were always written about love, some one's baby leaving him, hard luck dogging one's trail and the "misery ? roun yo door." "It's the mood," he exclaimed. "That's the carry-over from slavery nothing but trouble in sight for everyone there was no need to hitch your wagon to a star because there weren't any stars; you got only what you fought for. Spirituals were the natural release Times gonna git better in de promised Ian' -but many a stevedore knew only too well that his fate was definitely tied up in his own hands. If he was clever and strong, and didn't mind dying, he came through- point is well made, however, since the popular conception of the Blues (notably the white man's conception) is at variance with the facts. Nevertheless, any honest artistic attempt to -utilize and extend the material found in original Blues forms represents a legitimate and widely recognized use of such musical sources. Being indigenous to our country, the sincere jazz composer has every right to draw upon these original sources. No musicologist would deny that right, nor could he, historically, maintain any other position. Esquire on Jazz 1^34-2^44 59 the weak ones always died. A Blue mood since prayers often seemed futile, the words were made to fit present situations that were much more real and certainly more urgent. Ef ah kin jes grab me a handfulla freight train ah'll be setalways the urge to leave, to go to a distant town, a far city, to leave the prejudices and cruelty of the South. Superstition played its part too a large part black cats, black women, conjures, charms, sudden death, working in steel mills, cotton fields, loving women, fighting over women, all of the most intimate and earthly pursuits." I asked only one question and that question started a discussion that ended when the neons began to blink over Broadway and 45th Street and the taxi horns aroused us from a bygone period. I started "Mr. Williams, if you were a white man, you'd prob ably be worth a million dollars today, wouldn't you because the radio and motion picture rights as well as all mechanical rights to all of your songs would be copyrighted you'd have a staff of smart boys working for you, ferreting out tunes and buying them for a song from colored fellows who had no musical education and you'd never have a material care in this world- think hard now wouldn't you have rather been born a white man?" He laughed out loud uproariously,. and replied, "Why, I'd never have written Blues if I had been white you don't study to write Blues, you FEEL them. It's the mood you're in some times it's a rainy day cloud mist just like the time I lay for hours and hours in a swamp in Louisiana, Spanish moss dripping everywhere, but that's another story it's a mood though white men were looking for me with guns I wasn't scared, just sorry I didn't have a gun. I began to hum a tune a little sighing kinda tune you know, like this . . ." Clarence Williams was seated at the piano and his large muscular fingers began to caress the keys eerie chords rumbled 60 Esquire's Jazz Book along he sang "J es as blue as a tree an old willow tree- nobody 'roun here, jes nobody but me" the melody trailed off. "Never wrote that down, never published it either. I don't know why I'm playin' it now." I didn't intrude on his thoughts. "You never knew Tony Jackson, did you no, of course not; you were too young" Williams was not conscious of my presence in the room. He talked and played. I listened. Tony Jackson was probably the greatest Blues pianist that ever lived. He was great because he was original in all of his improvisations a creator a supreme stylist. This all happened thirty years ago when the wine rooms flourished. New Orleans was the focal point for Negro musicians, all of them coming down from the various river towns, but par ticularly from Memphis and St. Louis, on the many boat excur sions that would wind up in the delta. Blues was looked upon as "low music" forty years ago because its greatest exponents were hustlers and sports, itinerant musicians who played in river joints and dives because these were the only places sympathetic to their type of playing. Negroes have always loved the Blues, but in attempting to imitate the white man, many of them were trying to stamp out of their consciousness this natural emotional tie because of its background of slavery. Cities and towns figure in the names of so many Blues because the writers of these pieces were definitely associated with the towns. In these early "jam sessions," many of them held in these wine rooms in New Orleans, individual musicians would compete with one another. They came from the length and breadth of the Mississippi and their styles of playing were as different as the sections of the country from which they came. Boogie Woogie piano playing originated in the lumber and turpentine camps of Texas and in the sporting houses of that state. A fast rolling bass giving the piece an undercurrent of tremendous Esquire on Jazz 29 34- 1944. 61 power power piano playing. Neither Pinetop Smith, Meade Lux Lewis nor Albert Ammons originated that style of playing they are merely exponents of it. In Houston, Dallas and Galveston all Negro piano players played that way. This style was often referred to as a "fast western" or "fast Blues" as differentiated from the "slow Blues" of New Orleans and St. Louis. At these gatherings the ragtime and Blues boys could easily tell from what section of the country a man came, even going so far as to name the town, by his interpretation of a piece. In 1896 Tom Turpin his full name was Tomas Million Turner, of St. Louis had published the Harlem Rag, the Bowery Buck, the Buffalo, and Scott Joplin had just written the Maple Leaf Rag. This was white America's first introduction to ragtime, which was patterned after the Blues. The Blues were so essentially a part of Negro life that many musical pioneers rightly felt that America would not accept them, thus this offshoot, ragtime, which did happen to strike the public's fancy. It was gayer and was more in keeping with the mood of the American white man. Blues were always played among Negroes, seldom among white audiences; when they were played, they were set apart as the piece de resistance of the evening. The first Blues singer on a record was Mamie Smith and the first band to play Blues on a record was the white Dixieland Jazz Band, an aggregation of young white men who had perfected the Negro style of playing. 21 From 1919 through the 1 920*5 were the boom years for the Blues. The five Smiths were among the greatest single artists to interpret the Blues for the country. They 21 Contemporaneous with the Original Dixieland Band and even preceding it to New York was the Louisiana Five, another white jazz combination of New Orleans origin. It is probable that these two groups waxed their first records about the same time. See the March, 1941, Music and Rhythm for a complete story of The Louisiana Five. 62 Esquire's Jazz Book were all Negro women and were not related in any manner, either by family or by their varied vocal interpretations. Mamie, Bessie, Laura, Clara and Trixie were their names, and today among musicians and lovers of the Blues, the hottest type of argument may be started over the respective merits of the five. Bessie Smith is usually given credit for being the greatest, but to single any one out for that honor would not be fair. As I have mentioned before, style was important and, whereas Bessie Smith would sing certain numbers with all of the pathos and feeling that a certain Blues number required and would wring the song dry as it were, Mamie Smith could do certain Blues numbers much better in her own style. Bessie Smith was the depressed, mournful type her Blues were eloquent masterpieces of human misery bordering on the Spirituals she was Blues personified. She had a powerful voice and she sent her music in great waves of misery over audiences. Her Empty Bed Blues and Backwater Blues will forever remain classics. Mamie Smith, and this is purely a personal opinion, had much more music in her voiceshe might be compared today with Ella Fitzgerald in her rendition of certain numbers. Another great Blues star was Sara Martin, who had a flair for the dramatic. In a darkened theatre, with only candles on the stage, she would begin to wail in a low moan "Man done gone got nowhere to go." She literally surged across the stage, clutched the curtains in the wings, rolled on the floor, and when she had finished, the audience was as wilted as she. As I started this article, I wished to tell of the St. Louis, Kansas City and Chicago periods of the Blues. Gazing open- mouthed, watching beads of perspiration pour off the head of a trumpet player by the name of Louis Armstrong while he played a new piece called the Heebie Jeebies. The night King Esquire on Jazz 19 3 4- 1944 63 Oliver started his famous talking on a trumpet, actually preach ing a sermon with it. I wished to tell about the old Vendome Theatre in Chicago. 22 The night there was that great fight on the steamer, St. Paul, an old paddle wheeler out of St. Louis with Fate Marable's band playing. Five miles downstream a knife fight started and the boat wheeled around to put ashore. Of such stuff are musicians made. They had come up in the toughest of all schools they had played the levee front from one end to the other night life, sporting houses, gamblers, rounders they knew them all. "And today," broke in Clarence Williams, "their music is played in Carnegie Hall before a selected group; one sees many a full dress, high hat, ermine wrap there, you know." We had been exchanging experiences, talking nothing but the Blues for over five hours and the lights of Broadway were beginning to flash. I made another false start to leave, although I really didn't want to leave when the door was quietly opened and a straight, elderly, copper-colored man walked in. "I'd like you to know Reese DTree," he said. I shook hands with the man, and I could see a look of resignation in his face; he seemed very tired and worn. Williams went on "Reese D'Pree wrote a number about forty-three years ago, wrote it in Georgia, Bibb County to be exact will you tell Campbell about that piece, Reese?" In simple language he told me of the number he had written and sung made money on a ship in 1905, wearing a chef's cap and apron and singing his song. He used to sing it at pound parties in the South pound parties were community affairs given by Negroes at that time where one would bring a pound 22 Here Erskine Tate and his Vendome Syncopators held forth for nine con secutive years, parading a veritable Who's Who of Jazz Greats. Yet the band re corded but four sides, only two of which showed the group at its best. Such is the loss of perspective when recordings alone form the basis of jazz history and criticism. 64 Esquire's Jazz Book of "vittles" of anything edible, a pound of chitterlings, of pigs' feet, of hog maw, barbecue, butter anything that contributed to the feast. It was a simple little piece but everywhere he went, they wanted him to sing it. At the present time he is having copyright trouble D'Pree did not impress me as being a wealthy man but the song must have earned over a million dollars for someone. Possibly you've heard it too it's called Shortnin' Bread. Reese D'Pree loves the Blues as much as Clarence Williams, and I will always remember what that man told me about what the Blues meant to him. "Son," he said, "the Blues regenerates a man/' 23 TWELVE RECORDS AND EXILE by ROBERT COFFIN (First published in September, 1943) AHE BIBLE tells us that when Sodom and Gomorrah were de stroyed, God saved the innocent and allowed them to flee the cities. Three years ago something of the kind happened in Bel giumthough when Hitler took over not all the innocent were able to flee. Luckily, I escaped. The penalty I paid was to lose my collection of 3,000 phonograph records. I have never bought a phonograph record since that day. But I've often wondered, if I were able to go back for, say, twelve records, without turning into a lump of salt, which ones I would choose. Could I choose twelve jazz records which I would listen to fifty years hence without shuddering? And how would I choose them for the tune itself, for the arrangement, for the 23 This article the same season as it appeared in Esquire, served as a chapter in Jazzmen, edited by Charles Edward Smith and Frederick Ramsey, Jr., and pub lished by Harcourt, Brace & Co. Jazzmen is generally recognized as one of the most authoritative source books in the jazz field. Esquire on Jazz 1934-1944. 65 solo artist? Taste in jazz music is as personal as the contents of a man's trousers' pockets. This list of mine may be "expert," but it could cause another expert acute pain. Original Dixieland Jazz BandTiger Rag, Ostrich Walk. New Orleans Rhythm Kings Sttmme-Sha-Wabble, That Da-Da Strain. Original Wolverines Shimme-Sba-Wabble, The New Twister. Louis ArmstrongWest End Blues, Fireworks. Louis ArmstrongS'foTz^ Just a Gigolo. Louis Armstrong Confessin\ Duke Ellington- Tiger Rag (Parts I & II). Duke Ellington / Don't Mean a Thing, Rose Room. Chocolate Dandies Got Another Sweetie Now. Chicago Rhythm Kings/ Found a New Baby, There'll Be Some Changes Made. Mound City Blue Blowers One Hour, Hello Lola. Eddie Lang-Joe Venuti All Star Orch. Beale Street Blues. I asked six jazz specialists both men who make music and men who tear it apartwhat twelve records they would take were they fleeing from this or that wicked city. The first to be ques tioned was the urbane Duke Ellington. "Well," said the Duke thoughtfully, "I'd take Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe; Delius' In a Summer Garden; Debussy's La Mer and Afternoon of a Faun; and the Planets Suites . . ." On closer questioning he admitted he would take a few jazz records. "One of Art Tatum's records any one" and the rest would be: Coleman Hawkins' Body and Soul. Berigan's I Can't Get Started. Artie Shaw's Nightmare. Fats Waller's Fm Gonna Sit Right Down & Write Myself a Letter. Sidney Bechet's The Moocbe. 66 Esquires Jazz Book Willie Smith's What Can I Do with a Foolish Little Girl Like You? Duke Ellington's Something to Live For. "About that record of my own," Duke explained. "I like it for the singing by Jean Eldridge." Art Hodes, the noted pianist, took just five minutes to make up his list. Though he's a Chicago pianist, not a single Chicago style record is included. Hodes likes the Blues and the old style of the men around King Oliver: King Oliver Canal Street Blues, Dipper Mouth Blues. Ma Rainey Black Bottom, Georgia Cake Walk. Bessie Smith Yellow Dog Blues, Soft Pedal Blues. Louis Armstrong Strutting 'with Some Barbecue. Louis Armstrong Lonesome, All Alone and Blue. Sippie Wallace Have You Ever Been Do f um, Dead Drunk. Pinetop Smith Boogie Woogie, Pinetop's Blues. James P. Johnson Snowy Morning Blues. Albeit Wynn Down by the Levee, Parkway Stomp. Johnny Dodds Weary Blues. Jelly Roll Morton-Black Bottom Stomp, The Chant. Jelly Roll Morton Kansas City Stomp, Grandpa's Spell. Both Hodes and Leonard Feather, radio emcee of WMCA'S Phtterbrains jazz quizz, swing critic for Look, Metronome and other publications, chose their records~for~exile with an eco nomical eye. They selected not so much the best records ever made, but the best couplings. Most of Feather's list below are more or less obtainable and all are stand-outs on both sides: Louis Armstrong West End Blws, Muggles. Barney Bigard Minuet in Blues, Barney Qoirf Easy. King Cole Trio S