The Sound of Surprise 46 Pieces on Jazz.Pdf

cz DO 079 The Sound of Surprise WHITNEY BALLIETT The Sound of Surprise 46 Pieces on Jazz E. P. BUTTON & CO., INC. NEW YORK, 1959 WHITNEY BALLDETT Copyright, , 1959 by Printed in All rights reserved. the U.SA FIRST EDITION No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief excerpts in con- nection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast. Except for the first two pieces which ap- in peared slightly different form in the Satur- day Review and the principal section of the third in piece, which appeared, again slightly different form, in The Reporter, the material in this book appeared originally in The New Yorker and was copyrighted in 1957, 1958 and 1959 by The New Yorker Magazine, Inc. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 59-5832 T0E.K.B. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION ix Part One: 19541956 PANDEMONIUM PAYS OFF 3 ARTISTRY IN LIMBO 11 THE BIBULOUS AUNT 14 Part Two: 1957 PROGRESS AND PRUDENCE 25 THE DUKE AT PLAY 29 PASTORAL 33 HOT 38 AVAUNT 42 COLOSSUS 45 DJINNI 49 MAMMOTH 54 THE M.J.Q. 59 THE OLDEN DAYS 63 COOTIE 67 HOT NIGHT, LITTLE LIGHT 71 THE THREE LOUIS 74 STRESS AND STRAIN 78 MINGUS BREAKS THROUGH 82, THE RESURGENCE OF RED ALLEN 87 HOT AND COLD 91 Vii Contents Part Three: 1958 EPITAPH 97 MELEE 101 VIC DICKENSON AND THE P.J.Q. 104 MONK 108 THIS WHISKEY IS LOVELY 113 CLOSE, BUT NO CIGAR 118 OUT OF FOCUS 123 CHAMELEON 127 THE M.J.Q. (continued) 132 BEN WEBSTER 138 BIG SID 143 MAMMOTH (continued) 149 THE OLDEN DAYS (continued) 154 ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK 158 M. BECHET 163 MORPHEUS AT BAY 168 THE GREAT THINGS 171 THE BEST MEDICINE 174 AN EVENING IN BROOKLYN 185 MORELLO THE MIGHTY 188 THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA 191 THE SECRETS OF THE PAST 195 Part Four: 1959 MINGUS AMONG THE UNICORNS 201 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS 205 P.W. RUSSELL, POET 211 ROACH, BLAKEY & P.J. JONES, INC. 217 INDEX 229 mil INTRODUCTION IT'S A COMPLIMENT to jazz that nine-tenths of the volu- minous writing about it is bad, for the best forms often attract the most unbalanced admiration. At the same time, it is remarkable that so fragile a music has withstood such truckloads of enthusiasm. Jazz, after all, is a highly per- sonal, lightweight form like poetry, it is an art of sur- prisethat, shaken down, amounts to the blues, some unique vocal and instrumental sounds, and the limited, elusive genius of improvisation (some of it in the set forms of jazz composition). At best, these can provoke an intense, sometimes profound emotional satisfaction, which is al- together different largely because of sheer mathematical proportions from that induced by the design and mass of, say, Berlioz's "Requiem." The only excuse for collecting these pieces is that (the shufflings and reshufflings of taste considered) they seem to me to form a kind of selective critical documentary of the most bewildering years in the music's brief history. I also hope that such an approach, which has never been done exactly in this way before, at least breathes on some of the aesthetic mysteries of the music. Although all the pieces have been revised, they have been kept in the order written (the dates are of publica- tion), both for the sake of the record and to preserve a partly accidental variety of texture, pace, and subject matter. (There is one exception a short book review, which, though written not long ago, has been put in Part One because it seemed too short to stand alone in its It have more ambitious to proper place. ) might appeared ix INTRODUCnON rearrange the pieces, but it would also have destroyed whatever documentary aspects their present order has. Thus, these are some of the patterns now direct, now oblique that should emerge. Perhaps the weightiest occurrence in jazz during recent years has been the revolution in jazz composition and ar- ranging, which were, with the help of Jelly Roll Morton and Fletcher Henderson, practically invented by Duke Ellington. It was not until a few years ago that men like Jimmy Giuffre, Charlie Mingus, Thelonious Monk, John Lewis, George Russell, and Gil Evans began using the greater technical facilities first opened up to jazz by bebop to enlarge upon Ellington's methods. These men have also gone back to the blues, collective playing, and unashamed lyricism, all of which, for reasons made clear in the book, began to be bypassed ten or fifteen years ago. They have, of course, often overlaid the fundamental intent of jazz- to entertain and recharge the spirit with new beauties with such superfluities as an overimmersion in classical structures, techniques, and instrumentations. But they have also often made it possible to go back to their records again and again. Concurrently, a brilliant crop of soloists Cecil Taylor, Sonny Rollins, the renascent Monk, Miles Davis have appeared, and seemingly in a matter of minutes have changed the whole design of improvisation by experimenting with such diverse approaches as highly elastic chordal frame- works upon which to improvise; themes, rather than chords, as improvisatory bases; or various rhythmic pos- sibilities that, almost for the first time, makes rhythm as important as melody and harmony. (The one still insur- mountable problem in jazz is the constant demand for INTRODUCTION freshness. Since the music hinges on improvisation, a soloist must continually produce new statements. This, in turn, makes demands that are so immediate and unflagging- in more so than any other art form that the soloist is, often as not, forced to fall back on cliches by sheer creative exhaustion. ) But, strangely enough, these new approaches to composition and improvisation often have little to do with each other. At present, composers like Russell and Lewis tend to employ soloists in their works as a kind of solemn comic relief, while soloists like Rollins and Taylor work by themselves as much as the great solo pianists of the twenties and thirties. Someday, one hopes, these composers will begin drawing men like Rollins and Taylor into their works, as still free extensions of the composer. Still another notable movement in recent years has been the gradual return, in esteem, of a good many of the great swing musicians. One can find new records again by Ben Webster, Coleman Hawkins, Jo Jones, Vic Dickenson, Teddy Wilson, and Roy Eldridge, who, by playing as well or better than they were fifteen years back, counter so well the ridiculous fashion of condemning a phase of an art simply because it is no longer new. They have also strengthened the music all around them by reaffirming its hot and eloquent origins. Finally, there is the LP record, which has already been taken for granted, but without which most of what has just been mentioned could not have taken place; by destroying the arbitrary time limitations of. 78-r.p.m. recordings it has suddenly encouraged any number of new musical approaches simply by making the room for them. Beyond that, most of the happenings in the music since xi INTRODUCTION 1950 or so seem to me negative ones. Louis Armstrong, one of the first jazz musicians to become a household name, has made a spectacle of himself around the world, though he is still capable of playing and singing honestly and beautifully. The various modern schools, such as the cool, West Coast, hard bop, have frequently indicated imita- tive fashions rather than real musical changes, and have left no taste at all, or, in the case of hard bop, an un- pleasantly angry one that has more to do with matters other than music. like Dickie Men Wells, J. C. Higgin- botham, Buster Bailey, and Earl Hines are, sadly, in rela- tively prominent decline, while such first-rate musicians as Doc Cheatham, Emmet Beny, Joe Thomas, Lucky Thompson, Don Byas, and Bill Coleman are in obscurity, either because of expatriation or public neglect. The New Orleans revivalist movement (Turk Murphy, Wilbur de Paris, and the like), which depends on the long-cold emotions of other men (there is nothing deader than an old emotion), still flourishes. Lastly, there are two produc- tion problems that have cropped up in recent years. There are simply too many jazz records made. This has, of course, been an economic and educational advantage for the young musician, who no longer has the big bands to sup- port him while he irons out his adolescence. It has, how- ever, also caused a terrible lowering of standards; for the first time in jazz, businessmen are attempting to feed on what envision as a they the tastes of large, solvent audi- ence. And second, there is the recent rash of concerts, festivals, and jazz television programs. They are, I suppose, worthwhile as spreaders of the gospel. Yet, because of their sideshow of methods presentation, they frequently spread, in a rather sinister fashion, no more than a parody of xU INTRODUCTION the fundamental of where and how jazz. Indeed, problem has since the and when jazz should be displayed become, music ceased being a dance form, extremely acute. I have tried to avoid repeatedly identifying who plays what instrument by making such identifications the first time a musician is mentioned, and not again, except for lesser known men. The book is by no means comprehen- around to a sive, since I simply haven't yet gotten good as as those many musicians who are just important appear- ing here.

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