The record changer (Jan-Dec 1949)

6 lemME take this chorus We are normally quite peaceable people, and have recently even gone so far as to argue publicly the advantages of peacefulness in jazz criticism (see last month's Record Changer and the July 15th issue of Downbeat). But in the month of July two colleagues of ours indulged in irritating — though quite different — examples of what can only be called foolishness, and we feel compelled to say a few scolding words. We want it clearly understood, however, that all this is not to be any of that "dog-eat-dog" or "nastiness" that we have gone on record as opposing. This is just a matter of our believing that Downbeat and Metronome have stepped a bit out of line. (1) Metronome first. Editor Barry Ulanov has written, in the July issue, one of those articles that turn up every once in a while : the kind that say that jazz and jazz criticism are really the simplest things in the world, if only you listen to me. In this particular case, Ulanov offers in a nutshell "how to tell good from bad in jazz." He has something described as "the triple critical play," which solves all problems. He claims that people get very "distraught" and actually "resist disciplined thinking and logical procedure" in discussing jazz, whereas "discipline and logic, clarity and orderliness" should be easier to achieve in jazz than in any other art. To achieve this clarity, Ulanov has three magic words : "freshness, profundity, and skill," and the bulk of his article is a discussion of what he means by these terms. Even before we got to the business of reading the definitions, we felt pretty perturbed. It is a firm belief of ours that jazz is not the sort of thing that can be handled in a concrete, semi-mathematical manner, cannot be reduced to some rule of thumb. It's an emotional and subjective matter; certainly there are some standards that are fairly inflexible, but in our opinion it is sound aesthetics and sound jazz criticism, to leave wide areas uncluttered by rules (Ulanov calls this sort of attitude "calculated uncertainty," but that's preferable by far, we feel, to writing a rule-book in which you look on page 36 to determine whether the record you just heard was "good" or "bad"). As for the triple play : "freshness," which turns out to be another word for "inspiration," is first described as "divine fury or a heavenly gift," which sounds acceptable, if a bit pompous. But it then transpires that you can — says Ulanov — get all of jazz "outlined on paper" ; you can list "the common variations on the even commoner themes, the rows of familiar riffs and the mountains of only slightly different solos" ; you can jot down "common sounds" and "basic ideas," and finally come up with "one long curve on a graph" ! ! ! Apparently Barry really does want a rule-book ; our previous figure of speech is not just an exaggeration ; there should be a mythical page 36, and if you can find listed on that page the musical figure you have just heard, then it just isn't full of freshness. One out! The definition of "profundity" turns out to be sort of partisan, since "there has been little if anything in jazz that could be called profound" until the days of "the later Ellington, . . . Charlie Parker and Lennie Tristano." (Tristano is Barry's big favorite now, and when Metronome climbs on a band wagon, they sure ride it hard.) Profundity, it seems, is a matter of portraying "states of being rather than things with the qualities of these states" ("joy rather than a joyful boy, tragedy rather than a tragic event," explains Ulanov). How shortsighted can you. get? Does Ulanov mean that because Bessie Smith sings about one flood in one town, that neither the singer nor the listener realizes that the subject of the song is "tragedy," not merely the single event? Under this heading Ulanov also advances the unique theory that one way to get "profundity" is to "convince jazz musicians that every profound urge and effort they may feel and make should be expressed in their music." This, we're afraid, is nothing more than pretentious clap-trap. Of course whatever a sincere musician plays stems from his "urges and efforts" (i.e., his musical thoughts, ideas, and emotions). But the idea that someone— presumably a critic, presumably Barry Ulanov — should bring some undefined sort of pressure to bear to "convince" a musician to hurry up and set down his "profound" feelings, is as meaningless as it is unfeasible. We submit that either a musician plays largely by instinct, without much conscious rationalization about whether he's "fresh," or "profound," or else he himself sits down and worries over his work in an effort to make it more articulate, more self-expressive. But in neither case is there likely to be any consciousness of what constitutes "profundity," and a good thing, too, for any musician consciously striving to be "profound" is more likely to produce something as self-conscious and pretentious as, say, this Metronome article. A rather ridiculous picture comes to mind (and we'll admit it's fortunately an impossible scene) : A musician is sitting down to lunch ; with him is an erudite critic who has "convinced" this previously hit-or-miss player that every time he feels profound he'd better do something about it. Suddenly the musician leaps to his feet and yelps : "Man, I just felt profound ; hand me my licorice stick." From under the table the logical critic produces his portable recording unit, an4 music marches on. As for the musician who has never "reached the important conclusion that exaltation is greater than ecstasy," he is just never going to pass the test and will never, alas, be profound. Two out. "Skill" is treated more quickly and more emptily, since it is "the easiest standard to . . . recognize." Ulanov merely notes that the "abundant technical skill" of such men as Eldridge, Hodges, Parker, Tatum, Shavers, Hawkins, Goodman, etc. is "beyond argument." But what is needed is not mere technical skill, which leads to "mechanical" playing, but rather skill-plus-"spontaneity." Spontaneity turns out to be a combination of freshness and profundity, and we "recognize" it when we hear Lester Young, Parker, Tristano, et al. How all this is supposed to help one tell "good from bad," Ulanov doesn't say. Three out, all out. Our purpose in this dissection of Ulanov's high-sounding critical flight is not just to be unpleasant. We do feel that much of what he has to say is, bluntly, nonsense. But more importantly, his article is a striking example (Continued on Page 20) IN LOS ANGELES IT'S THE RECORD OUTLET (Formerly of New York) "The Collectors' Paradise" The Largest Store in California Devoted Entirely to Collectors' Items For the Best in Jazz, Swing, Bebop, Popular and All Old Favorites. Tremendous Assortment of Armstrong, Bechet, Bessie Smith, Muggsy, Holiday, New Orleans, Miller, Goodman, Dodds, Jelly Roll, Bix Beiderbeclce, Ellington and Ellington Units, Dixieland, Basie, Bing Crosby, Etc., on Original Labels, Imported Parlophone, HMV, Etc. Please send in your want lists. If in Los Angeles or vicinity, it would be well worth while to visit us. 5600 Hollywood Boulevard LOS ANGELES 27 CALIFORNIA Telephone Hillside 8088 As Always, Fairest Prices.