Afro-Modernist Compositional Strategies in Selected Works by John Lewis: 1952-1962

Home , Afternoon in Paris, All Set (Babbitt), Ann Ronell, Barney Wilen, Black Hawk (nightclub), Bobby Jaspar

Christopher Coady School of English, Media and Performing Arts University of New South Wales

This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Music.

2011

ORIGINALITY STATEMENT

‘I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project's design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.’

Signed ……………………………………………......

Date ……………………………………………......

‘I hereby grant the University of New South Wales or its agents the right to archive and to make available my thesis or dissertation in whole or part in the University libraries in all forms of media, now or here after known, subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968. I retain all proprietary rights, such as patent rights. I also retain the right to use in future works (such as articles or books) all or part of this thesis or dissertation. I also authorise University Microfilms to use the 350 word abstract of my thesis in Dissertation Abstract International (this is applicable to doctoral theses only). I have either used no substantial portions of copyright material in my thesis or I have obtained permission to use copyright material; where permission has not been granted I have applied/will apply for a partial restriction of the digital copy of my thesis or dissertation.'

Signed ……………………………………………......

Date ……………………………………………......

AUTHENTICITY STATEMENT

‘I certify that the Library deposit digital copy is a direct equivalent of the final officially approved version of my thesis. No emendation of content has occurred and if there are any minor variations in formatting, they are the result of the conversion to digital format.’

Signed ……………………………………………......

Date ……………………………………………......

ii Abstract

The idea that African-American expressive culture is organized around a core trope of vernacular “masking,” a process that both maintains and subversively extends African- American cultural presence, has recently gained momentum in the field of jazz studies. This theoretical framework, termed Afro-Modernism, has proved particularly influential in the revision of musical products dismissed as pastiche. Although “Third Stream” works are frequently assigned such labels, many Afro-Modernist scholars have excluded them from the “masking” paradigm due to a perceived overemphasis of Western art music tropes.

This thesis challenges such readings by first exploring what appears to be an internal inconsistency in Afro-Modernist logic when a “balance” between audible European and vernacular elements is required for a “masking” work to be deemed successful. It subsequently demonstrates cause for jazz artists to have pursued Western art music “masks” in the 1950s by detailing the way in which perceived hegemonic alignment enabled economic success for many musicians in the wake of the 1940s big band decline. John Lewis in particular is shown to have both embraced Western art music constructs and to have heralded the vernacular foundation of his works during this period. An analysis of Lewis’ oeuvre between 1952 and 1962 explores the paradox of these competing interests in works performed in both clubs and “Modern” music venues.

The main findings of this analysis show that many of the Western art music sonorities emergent in Lewis’ work result from the innovative deployment of vernacular devices. Lewis’ multi-movement works Three Little Feelings (1956) and The Comedy (1960) coalesce around a style of thematic repetition rooted in African-American cultural practice – one that overlaps with, but is also distinct from, Western art music thematic development. The use of improvised counterpoint and blues derived riffs in the works Concorde (1955) and Versailles (1956) in turn are shown to meet Western art music expectations regarding polyphonic thematic treatment in the fugal realm. Such findings contrast readings of Lewis’ work that depict Western forms as pushing vernacular tropes to the side, indicating instead the central role of the vernacular in Lewis’ work, even during the creation of Western art music veneers.

iii Acknowledgements

I would like to thank several people for their help and support during this project. First and foremost, I wish to extend my sincere thanks to my research supervisor Associate Professor Dorottya Fabian for her unwavering support and guidance. Her analytical and organizational skills are without parallel and her advice has greatly impacted the quality of this work.

I am indebted to the staff of the School of English, Media and Performing Arts at the University of New South Wales for their invaluable comments during postgraduate reviews, their willingness to read and edit sections of this thesis, and their financial assistance in providing me with both administrative and teaching work over the past several years. In particular I would like to thank: Dr. John Napier, Dr. John Peterson, Dr. Emery Schubert, Dr. Iain Giblin, Dr. Christine Logan, Associate Professor Robert Walker and Dr. Paul Dawson. I am also grateful to Dr. Ian Collinson and Dr. Denis Crowdy for reviewing several draft chapters of this thesis and to Sophie Pusz for her comments on the final manuscript. I acknowledge here the financial assistance of the Graduate Research School at UNSW, which took the form of a University International Postgraduate Award held during my candidature.

There are many fellow postgraduate students and friends who have supported me forming a list too long to include here. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have held their company. I must single out the Emery family for the many kindnesses they extended to me during my first years in Australia and to my partner Caitlin, whose love and support enabled the completion of this work. Finally, I wish to extend infinite thanks to my parents Ann and James Coady, who remain my greatest inspirations and role models and to whom this thesis is dedicated.

iv Table of Contents

Abstract iii

Acknowledgments iv

List of Musical Examples vii

List of Figures x

List of Audio Examples xi

List of Video Examples xii

Introduction 1 Purpose and Rationale of the Study 1 Methodology and Presentation 6

Chapter 1: Signifyin(g), Call-Response, and the New Critical School of Jazz Studies: A 9 theoretical framework for the analysis of 1950s syncretic jazz works 1.1 Historical Underpinnings of Afro-Modernist Musical Analysis 10 1.2 The Power of Black Music: Afro-Modernism in the Musical Realm 24 1.3 Reading “pan-European” Approaches to Jazz Studies 31 1.4 Reading “pan-European” Approaches to Third Stream Music 36 1.5 Afro-Modernist Models of Jazz Analysis 42

Chapter 2: Cultural Context and Afro-Modernist Reading of Selected 1950s Syncretic Jazz 51 Composition 2.1 Afro-Modernist Roots of 1950s “Modern” Jazz 53 2.2 Expanding the Jazz Market: Jazz Goes to College 59 2.3 Expanding the Jazz Market: The Creation of “Modern” Music Venues 66

Chapter 3: The Role of Rhythmic Essentialism in John Lewis’ Marginalisation from African- 86 American Expressive Culture 3.1 Essentialising Rhythm in Jazz Discourse 87 3.2 The Effect of Essentialist Rhythmic Discourse on Lewis’ Portrayal in the Popular Press 98

Chapter 4: Survey of Lewis’ Works and Analysis of Afro-Modernist Strategies (1952-1962) 112 4.1 Survey of Lewis’ Works: 1952 – 1962 115 4.2 Musical Analysis of Afro-Modernist Strategies 137 4.2.1 Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) 138 4.2.2 Thematic Repetition 150

4.2.3 Embedded Vernacular Forms 170

Chapter 5: AfroModernist Subversion of the Jazz Deviance Trope in Lewis’ Film Noir Scores 178 5.1 “Crime Jazz” and the Jazz Deviance Trigger in Film Noir 179 5.2 Subverting the Jazz Deviance Trope: Sait-on Jamais (1957) 183 5.3 Subverting the Jazz Deviance Trope: Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud (1958) 189 5.4 Subverting the Jazz Deviance Trope: Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) 191

Conclusions 199

References 206

Scores 219

Filmography 220

Appendix (a): “The Signifyin’ Monkey” 221

Appendix (b): Concorde (1955). Atlantic LP 7005. Exposition, mm. 1-25. Transcription. 223

Appendix (c): Formal Outlines of Selected Works 226

Appendix (d): Sait-on Jamais (1957) Soundscape 256

Appendix (e): Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) Soundscape 260

Appendix (f): List of Recorded Works 265

vi List of Musical Examples

Example 1.1 Thematic counterpoint in ‘Light’ (Burrows, 2007, p. 64) [Reset in Finale]. 47

Example 2.1 Revelations (1957) Opening Theme mm. 1-4. Published Score [Reduced and set in Finale]. 70

Example 2.2 Revelations (1957) mm. 28-9. Published Score. 71

Example 2.3 Revelations (1957) mm. 169-73. Published Score. 72

Example 2.4 Concorde (1954) Fugal Subject, Bass. mm. 1-7. Published Score [Reduced and set in 79 Finale].

Example 2.5 Three Little Feelings (1957) Theme. mm. 1-5. Published Score [Set in Finale]. 81-2

Example 4.1 Concorde (1955). Atlantic LP 7005. Thematic motif behind piano solo. mm. 32 – 39. 139 Transcription.

Example 4.2 Concorde (1955). Atlantic LP 7005. Revision of thematic motif behind piano solo. mm. 49 140 – 56. Transcription.

Example 4.3 Versailles (1956). Atlantic LP 1231. Exposition. mm. 1 – 8. Transcription. 142

Example 4.4 Versailles (1956). Atlantic LP 1231. Thematic motif behind piano solo. mm. 25 – 40. 142 Transcription.

Example 4.5 The Queen’s Fancy (1953). Prestige LP 7057. Fanfare. mm. 1 – 5. Transcription. 143

Example 4.6 The Queen’s Fancy (1953). Prestige LP 7057. Offset thematic statements. mm. 14 – 19. 143 Transcription.

Example 4.7 But Not For Me (1930) [1953]. Prestige LP 7057. Improvised counterpoint. mm. 91 – 97. 144 Transcription.

Example 4.8 The Comedy (1960) “La Cantatrice” theme. mm. 1 – 12. Published Score [Reduced and set 145 in Finale].

Example 4.9 The Comedy (1960) “La Cantatrice” improvised trumpet and bass counterpoint. mm 65 – 146 69. Published Score.

Example 4.10 The Comedy (1960). Atlantic LP 1334. “La Cantatrice” Improvised trumpet and bass 146 counterpoint. mm. 65 – 69. Transcription.

Example 4.11 Sketch (1959) Polyphonic thematic setting mm. 21 – 25. Published Score [Set in Finale]. 148

Example 4.12 Sketch (1959) First 8 measures of open improvisation. mm. 35 – 42. Published score 148 [Reduced and set in Finale].

Example 4.13 Sketch (1959). Atlantic LP 1345. Interpretation of first 8 measures of open improvisation 149 (piano and bass). mm. 35 – 42. Transcription.

Example 4.14 Three Little Feelings (1956) First thematic statement. mm. 1 – 5. Published score [Reduced 153 and set in Finale].

Example 4.15 Three Little Feelings (1956) Riff statements. mm. 13 – 20. Published score [Reduced and 154 set in Finale].

vii

Example 4.16 Three Little Feelings (1956) Riff statements. mm. 21 – 28. Published score [Reduced and set 154 in Finale].

Example 4.17 Three Little Feelings (1956) Tuba thematic statement. mm. 70 – 73. Published score 155 [Reduced and set in Finale].

Example 4.18 Three Little Feelings (1956) Thematic repetition in third movement. mm. 6 – 10. Published 155 score [Reduced and set in Finale].

Example 4.19 The Comedy (1960) “La Cantatrice” Second thematic statement. mm. 25 – 39. Published 157 Score.

Example 4.20 The Comedy (1960) “Polchinella” Introduction and opening thematic statement. mm. 1 – 159 14. Published Score.

Example 4.21 The Comedy (1960) “Polchinella” Second thematic statement. mm. 15 – 21. Published 160 Score.

Example 4.22 Sketch (1959) Theme. mm. 9 – 16. Published Score [Set in Finale]. 161

Example 4.23 The Comedy (1962). Atlantic LP 1390. “Columbine” First three measures of first thematic 162 statement. 0:00. Transcription.

Example 4.24 The Comedy (1962). Atlantic LP 1390. “Columbine” Second thematic statement. 0:22. 162 Transcription.

Example 4.25 The Comedy (1962). Atlantic LP 1390. “Columbine” Third thematic statement. 0:52. 162 Transcription.

Example 4.26 The Comedy (1960) “Piazza Navona” Opening thematic statement. mm. 1 – 12. Published 164 Score [Set in Finale].

Example 4.27 The Comedy (1960) “Piazza Navona” Third thematic statement. mm. 34 – 45. Published 165 Score [Set in Finale].

Example 4.28 The Comedy (1960) “Piazza Navona” Fourth thematic statement. mm. 86-89. Published 167 Score [Set in Finale].

Example 4.29 The Comedy (1960) “Piazza Navona” Fifth thematic statement. mm. 210-225. Published 168 Score [Set in Finale].

Example 4.30 The Comedy (1960) “Polchinella” embedded blues with dissonant backings. mm. 72 – 88. 172 Published Score.

Example 4.31 Django (1954) Opening bars of lead sheet with added analysis. mm. 1 – 9. The New Real 173 Book Volume Two [Reduced and set in Finale].

Example 4.32 Django (1954). Prestige LP 7057. Bass line over four-measure vamp. mm. 45 – 48. 173 Transcription.

Example 4.33 Three Little Feelings (1956) Second movement four-measure vamp. mm. 29 – 36. Published 175 Score.

Example 5.1 Sait-on Jamais (1957) “Crime Jazz” Cliché Bass Line. 00:06:36 Transcription. 187

viii

Example 5.2 Sait-on Jamais (1957) “Three Windows” theme. 00:06:38 Transcription. 187

Example 5.3 Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) Opening theme. 00:00:25 Transcription. 194

ix List of Figures

Figure 1.1 Chord charts for Charlie Parker, “Blues for Alice” and Miles Davis, “Sippin’ at Bells” (Magee, 44 2007, p. 10).

Figure 2.1 Formal outline of John Lewis’ Three Little Feelings (1957), Movement 1. 83

x List of Audio Examples

Audio Example 1 Revelations. 1957 Recording, Collective Improvisation. Columbia LP WL127. 72

Audio Example 2 Versailles. 1956 Recording. Altantic LP 1231. 122

Audio Example 3 Vendome. 1952 Recording. Prestige LP 7059. 138

Audio Example 4 Fontessa. 1956 Recording. Straight-time counterpoint. Atlantic LP 1231. 144

Audio Example 5 Angel Eyes. 1956 Recording. Blues-derived counterpoint. Atlantic LP 1231. 144

Audio Example 6 The Comedy. 1961 MJQ Recording, “Columbine” Db Major Thematic Statements. 163 Altantic LP 1390.

Audio Example 7 The Comedy. 1961 MJQ Recording, “Columbine” Gb Major Thematic Statements. 163 Atlantic LP 1390.

Audio Example 8 The Comedy. 1961 MJQ Recording, “Columbine” F Major Thematic Statements. 163 Atlantic LP 1390.

Audio Example 9 The Comedy. 1961 MJQ Recording, “Piazza Navona” Opening vibraphone 169 improvisation. Atlantic LP 1390.

xi List of Video Examples

Video Example 1 I Want to Live! (1958) – 98’30’’ to 100’23’’ 182 Video Example 2 I Want to Live! (1958) – 78’20’’ to 79’19’’ 182 Video Example 3 Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud (1957) – 32’37’’ to 35’46’’ 190

xii

Introduction

Purpose and Rationale of the Study The field of African-American studies has long struggled with how to read the myriad of cultural influences embedded within jazz music. One of the earliest works to examine this phenomena, Winthrop Sargeant’s Jazz Hot and Hybrid (1938), tended to depict “syncretism,” or the blending of disparate tropes, as a purposeful attempt to evolve vernacular “folk” music into a branch of Western art music. This theoretical strain embraced the assimilationist arguments of Harlem Renaissance leaders by showing that many jazz products could be assessed positively along the same aesthetic guidelines used to evaluate “classical” music. It was an approach that aligned well with “formalistic” trends in musicology as identified by Kerman (1985) and one that would lead to a body of similarly designed inquiry seeking to advance jazz through established academic channels (Schuller, 1958b; Schuller, 1968; Owens, 1976; Stuessy, 1977; Schmitz & de Lerma, 1979).

Yet there were those who disagreed with Sargeant’s (1938) views, stressing instead that the music should be assessed on aesthetic terms that related to its vernacular components only (Panassié, 1936; Goffin, 1944). These works emphasised a racialised reading of the music which championed qualities of spontaneity and rhythmic drive, features linked to authentic musical production in the African diaspora by decades of essentialist depictions of African cultural practices (see Radano, 2003). Western art music elements in this context were derided and held to be a “commercial exploitation of [the] music” (Panassié, [1936] 1970, p. 20) while vernacularly based polyphonic improvisation was showcased as the music’s truly valuable contribution to the arts (Panassié, [1936] 1970, p. 35).

Still another group of researchers would position themselves between these views, giving more or less equal valuation to Western art music and vernacular influence in the genre. From this perspective, it was the balance between the musical tropes of both cultures that held value and the juxtaposition of these influences was seen to result in an entirely new musical idiom (Finkelstein, 1949; Ulanov, 1952). In these assessments the palpable distinction between jazz and European music was depicted as a conscious aesthetic choice made by practitioners. Such a view placed more control in the hands of the artists than readings of the music that charted

evolution towards Western art music as inevitable or qualities of spontaneity and rhythmic drive as biologically ingrained. Identifying advancement of jazz as occurring via a purposeful fusion of tropes foreshadowed research into spoken African-American rhetorical practices utilized towards similar ends (Abrahams, 1964; Mitchell-Kernan, 1972; Smitherman, 1977). Yet this type of hermeneutics lacked the critical weight of established approaches to music inquiry and would only be embraced fully once a space for the investigation of African-American artistic expression based on rhetorical principles had gained traction in other fields.

The 1987 publication of Houston Baker’s Modernism and the Harlem Renaissance demonstrated a major step in this direction for the realm of African-American literary studies. The work begins by detailing how African-American spokesmen of the late nineteenth century borrowed discursive strategies from outside their cultural set in order to advance specific African- American causes. Baker paints the syncretic act in this setting as more than the sum of its parts, detailing how appropriation from outside African-American culture was used to preserve the African-American voice in an environment hostile to African-American progress. This practice, referred to as the wearing of “minstrel mask[s],” then serves to challenge arguments that the Harlem Renaissance failed to substantively progress African-American intellectual and artistic thought (Baker, 1987, p. 93). The findings of Baker’s study can be seen to have influenced Henry Louis Gates’ (1988) theory of African-American literary criticism and the cumulative impact of both works has since proved dramatic. Both Baker and Gates are used as central theorists in a body of cross-disciplinary assessments aimed at illuminating syncretic strategies employed to political and social ends across the spectrum of African-American expressive culture (Murphy, 1990; Tomlinson, 1991; Brackett, 1992; Walser, 1993; Floyd, 1995a; Burrows, 2007; Howland, 2009). These approaches have been grouped broadly by Ramsey (2003) under the term “Afro-Modernism” (Ramsey, 2003, p. 28) and have yielded results that frequently conflict with long held beliefs.

In the musical realm, this double-voiced principle has proved particularly influential in the revision of jazz works formally dismissed as pastiche. Derivatives of Baker’s theory have been used to problematise the symphonic works of Duke Ellington (Burrows, 2007; Howland, 2009) and to unite the disparate oeuvre of Miles Davis (Walser, 1993; Magee, 2007). These analyses demonstrate how compositional elements once viewed as working against vernacular

elements in jazz can alternately be understood as providing a platform for their promotion. The accounts of Burrows (2007) and Howland (2009) for instance focus intensely on the relationship between historical context and the creation of new musical works, in both cases identifying “masking” as part of an economic strategy where the application of a Western art music veneer to musical processes grounded in African-American culture aids in the expansion of Ellington’s audience.

In light of such findings, the Afro-Modernist paradigm seems an appropriate lens through which to reassess certain works from the Third Stream genre. The term, “Third Stream,” first introduced into music lexicon by Gunther Schuller at a Brandeis University lecture in 1957, has been defined in retrospect as “improvisation or written composition or both” which “synthesizes the essential characteristics and techniques of contemporary Western art music and various ethnic or vernacular musics” (Schuller, 1987, p. 377). Historically, the term can be seen to have gained initial traction as a label only for works meeting this definition and played by ensembles with instrumentation greater than that of standard small group or big band setups. Smaller jazz ensembles utilizing a similar pairing of disparate tropes were in contrast labelled “West coast” or “Cool.” Retrospective assessments have however cast a slightly wider net, incorporating the mid 1950s jazz quartet works of pianist/composer John Lewis (1920 – 2001) into the Third Stream fold (Floyd, 1995a, p. 167; Joyner, 2000, p. 79). Importantly, many works from both categories appear to have achieved parallel economic goals to the Ellington pieces examined by Burrows (2007) and Howland (2009). Faced with the economic realities of the 1940s big band decline, creators of Third Stream compositions, and their smaller ensemble “Cool” counterparts, pursued an audience from outside the popular music and “hipster” markets by linking jazz vernacular elements with sonic elements derived from Western art music. Music critics and producers alike embraced this style of syncretism and products related to this approach played a crucial role in rebuilding the decimated jazz market (Lopes, 2002, p. 244).

Yet despite the success of syncretic products in reinvigorating the industry, few works labelled “Third Stream” have been assessed as Afro-Modernist texts. Reluctance to engage in this style of analysis appears to stem from a denial of the Third Stream as being a part of “‘real’ black music” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 167). Arguments supporting this position point to the decreasing use

of African-American vernacular tropes throughout the movement as evidence of growing cultural irrelevance. Joyner (2000), for instance, highlights increasing formal restrictions in the genre as inhibiting both “rhythmic momentum (the groove)” and “the discretion of… improvising soloist[s]” (Joyner, 2000, p. 85). Lopes (2002) in turn holds that the gradual recession of improvisation in the music demonstrated a shedding of African-American roots and movement towards “mimicry of the classical tradition…” (Lopes, 2002, p. 244). While both of these assessments are likely accurate in describing some Third Stream works, their essentialisation of improvisation overshadows the use of other vernacular devices and their problematising of the movement as a whole glosses over individual works and the particular historic circumstances of their creation. As Scott DeVeaux (1997) argues in The Birth of Bebop, not until the actions of musicians are placed “within the context of their professional world” and interpreted in relation to economic factors can the generalisations of movement centred narratives be refined or challenged (DeVeaux, 1997, p. 31).

While a wider retrospective of Third Stream works may soon be warranted, this thesis begins conservatively by focusing on Lewis’ compositions during his first decade of ensemble leadership (1952-1962). Reviews of Lewis’ work from this period overwhelmingly focus on the general aesthetic of its European sound, often stripping the music of alignment with African- American expressive culture. Inherent in this commentary is a tendency to marginalize musical qualities associated with the vernacular while celebrating the presence of Western art music conventions in the emphasis of European parity. Analysis in the academic realm perpetuates the problems of popular press commentary, prioritizing investigation of Western elements over vernacular tropes (Owens, 1976; Stuessy, 1977; Budds, 1978). Such investigations stand in contrast with comments made by Lewis articulating a vernacular foundation in the jazz press (Hentoff, 1953; Hentoff, 1957a). Whether or not these comments were designed to promote his works to a specific audience, the fact remains that his early “fugal” compositions, written for the Modern Jazz Quartet [MJQ] between 1952 and 1957, are rife with vernacular tropes as defined by Afro-Modernist musicologists Floyd (1995a) and Ramsey (2003), including the use of riffs, polyphonic improvisation and textural permutations of repeated thematic material. Lewis’ extended work Three Little Feelings (1956), a work that would eventually be aligned with the Third Stream according to Ralph Gleason’s essay Outstanding Jazz Compositions of the 20th Century (1964), in turn evinces a similar compositional approach, as do both the brass ensemble

and MJQ recordings of the extended work The Comedy (1960). Given the location of these particular works in the milieu of the post big band era as well as Lewis’ comments citing vernacular influence, an examination of syncretism with an eye towards purposeful vernacular expansion seems warranted.

Methodology and Presentation This thesis builds an argument for reassessing Lewis’ works accordingly by first outlining how Afro-Modernist theory has been used in the revision of other marginalised African-American cultural products. Chapter One traces the evolution of Baker’s theory from its early application in studies of African-American literary practice to its current use in the musical realm. Jazz studies are given particular focus and Afro-Modernist readings of jazz are pitted against what Ramsey (1996) refers to as “pan-European” approaches, in which alignment with Western art music is heralded as an ultimate goal.

This chapter makes clear that focusing on European elements in the study of syncretic jazz products too often overshadows discussion regarding the treatment of vernacular tropes. Afro- Modernist approaches to the same body of music, in contrast, tend towards the other extreme, at times advocating political agendas equally as biased. While caution must be exercised in pursuing Afro-Modernist investigation, the removal of many of Lewis’ works from the realm of African-American expressive culture as a result of the pan-European approach requires Afrological revision.

Chapter Two provides the broad context for an Afro-Modernist reassessment of the Third Stream period by outlining the set of economic strategies embraced by syncretic jazz artists in the wake of the 1940s big band decline. This approach saw syncretic compositions relocated into new music spaces, both appropriated and created, with the intent of exposing and winning over uninitiated patrons. Advances in jazz education aided white syncretic artists’ access to University campuses while African-American artists, denied entry to the University, pursued “modern music” venues built on the foundations of existing African-American musical spaces. The “masking” aspects of works presented in these spaces are then outlined in order to demonstrate the musical side of this process as well as the shortcomings of Cool and Third Stream assessments based solely on European musical influence.

The rationale for using Lewis as a case study in Afro-Modernist reassessment of the Third Stream follows in Chapter Three. A history of essentialist rhetoric regarding African and African-American musical production is surveyed at the beginning of this chapter, demonstrating a pervasive emphasis on rhythm in assessments of African-American musical authenticity. The second half of this chapter then charts Lewis’ reception in the popular press in light of this history, questioning the veracity of essentialist readings and illuminating how the “masking” aspects of his work crowded out discussion of rhythm in favour of commentary regarding “European” parity. The chapter demonstrates that Lewis frequently articulated his grounding in African-American expressive culture during this period but the volume of press coverage over which he did not have influence effectively established an alternate consensus regarding his work. Occasionally these reviews took the additional step of juxtaposing the actions of the MJQ members against the “egregious conduct” of mainstream jazz performers (Down Beat, February 20, 1957). It is argued that those responsible for these associations unwittingly articulated racial stereotypes grounded in what Gioia (1989) refers to as the “primitivist myth.” By equating European sonic qualities with good behavior (and tangentially, “white” culture), a construct of Lewis’ identity caged almost exclusively in relation to a perceived “whiteness” spanning musical and behavioral realms emerged in the popular press thus marginalizing the artist from African-American expressive culture.

Chapter Four attempts to rectify this issue by revealing the vernacular core of Lewis’ works composed between 1952 and 1962. An argument for the temporal parameters of this study based on economic shifts related to the emergence of the Black Arts movement in the 1960s is put forth in the beginning of this chapter. It is followed by a general survey of Lewis’ oeuvre during this period that demonstrates the centrality of the MJQ as a compositional vehicle, thus contextualising the prominence of the ensemble in the analysis that forms the second half of the chapter. A simultaneous overview of compositional effects allows for the delineation of compositional approaches crying out for categorisation and discussion within an Afro- Modernist framework. Analysis of the paradoxical use of counterpoint in Lewis’ work – its ability to signal Western art music practices and practices of improvisation associated with the New Orleans style of jazz – begins the analytical section and is followed by an examination of multi-movement “Suite” formats that employ what Snead (1981) identifies as vernacularly based organisational practices. The positioning of vernacular forms such as the 12-bar blues

and IV-I “plagal” vamps derived from Gospel practices against material that evokes Western art music expectation is in turn discussed in order to demonstrate double-voiced functioning at the macro level.

Finally, a parallel “masking” approach is identified in Lewis’ film noir scores of the late 1950s, discussed in Chapter Five. The use of jazz in this film genre has been conventionally viewed as a tool for articulating deviance. In many cases, this association was conjured by reducing jazz stylistic features to the level of musical cliché and then pairing this sonic trigger with scenes of moral transgression. Subverting this cliché, or what Lopes (2005) refers to as the jazz deviance trope, Lewis is shown in this chapter to have used diegetic musical “masks” (live bands and record players) as tools for moving the vernacular voice beyond negative narrative moments in the films Sait-on Jamais (1957) and Odds Against Tomorrow (1959).

Wherever possible, the published scores of Lewis’ work have been used in all analysis. In order to highlight specific musical features, some examples drawn from published scores have been reduced and reset in the music notation program Finale. When this has occurred, it is reflected in the labelling of the musical examples. In a few instances, I have included my own transcriptions and formal outlines of works existing solely in recorded form. For each transcription, there is an audio sound file available on the supplementary DVD. All formal outlines are included at the end of this thesis in Appendix (c).

The reassessment of Lewis’ music presented across these chapters provides an alternate lens through which both his Third Stream alignment and the assembly of his works can be read. Rather than moving jazz closer to European music, many of Lewis’ syncretic projects during the 1950s and early 1960s might be better understood as working towards the expansion of the vernacular in an age of economic instability. Far from a small shift in emphasis, the latter reading demonstrates the ingenuity and centrality of African-American rhetorical practices in the creation of Lewis’ works, challenging readings that view movement towards parity with Western art music as his eventual goal. Valuing Lewis’ works as African-American musical products validates the artist’s claims of influence and debunks criticism marginalizing him from African-American expressive culture. The findings of the thesis not only shift our impressions

of Lewis specifically, they indicate the necessity for broader investigation into the breadth of Third Stream production.

Chapter 1 Signifyin(g), Call-Response, and the New Critical School of Jazz Studies: A theoretical framework for the analysis of 1950s syncretic jazz works

The use of Baker’s (1987) “masking” concept in recent jazz analysis (Howland, 2007; Magee, 2007; Burrows, 2007; Howland, 2009) is significant in that the academic study of jazz has traditionally resisted Afrological paradigms. Ramsey (1996) details this state of play in his description of standardized “pan-European” approaches to the field in which “Old World practices, attitudes, and hegemony” (Ramsey, 1996, p. 14) play a central role in the evaluation of jazz products. While musician/musicologist Gunther Schuller serves as a particular lightning rod for some (see Walser, 1993), the persistence of this approach can be found in other works of academic jazz inquiry (Sargeant, 1975; Schmitz & de Lerma, 1979; Owens, 1976; Stuessy, 1977; Budds, 1978; Koch, 1985). Baker’s theory and the closely derived Signifyin(g) theory of African-American literary criticism put forth by Henry Louis Gates (1988) can therefore be viewed as providing balance to the biases of the pan-European school by way of introduced Afrological perspectives.

Investigations embracing these theories must first however reconcile the application of literary theory to musical data. Both Baker (1987) and Gates (1988) were concerned primarily with the treatment of the vernacular in spoken and written forms, thus requiring those who embrace “masking” concepts in the musical realm to accept as the foundation of their argument an apparent link between African-American linguistic and musical processes. The origin of this type of modal blending can be seen both in the body of sociolinguistic data documenting African-American spoken vernacular practices that predates Baker’s study (Abrahams, 1964; Mitchell-Kernan, 1972; Smitherman, 1977) as well as in research into cross-modal Gospel practices in the United States during the 1970s (Garland, 1969; Heilbut, 1971; Williams-Jones, 1975; Snead, 1981). The consensus established in this latter body of research is used directly by Samuel Floyd to support application of the Afro-Modernist paradigm in his book The Power of Black Music (1995).

Floyd’s (1995a) monograph provided the first extensive account of how the double-voiced strategies of Baker and Gates could be applied to the study of African-American music. Building on Sterling Stuckey’s (1987) study of “core” African-American musical tropes, Floyd

demonstrates through the use of scores how the vernacular is used to comment on or tease hegemonic compositional elements in syncretic products. While Floyd’s work has received a good deal of criticism for its Afrocentrism, its necessity becomes apparent when viewed in the context of existing pan-European findings.

Despite the suitability of Floyd’s methodology to the study of syncretic works, Third Stream products have yet to be assessed as “masking” or Signifyin(g) texts. Exclusion from the Afro- Modernist paradigm is tied largely to the legacy of pan-European investigations into the Third Stream, in which compositional tropes are catalogued as either vernacular or European and a “balance” between the two is required for a work to be deemed successful (Owens, 1976; Stuessy, 1977; Budds; 1978; Joyner, 2000; Lopes, 2002). Authors engaging this methodology were actively working to introduce jazz into academic circles through accepted investigatory models. However, such assessments failed to engage with issues of “historical particularity” and thus resulted in an artificial reliance on constructs foreign to African-American rhetorical practices in the valuation of Third Stream products.1 The emphasis on historical context in revision projects of marginalised jazz works driven by the Baker/Gates model and discussed at the end of this chapter demonstrates the potential for a more nuanced decoding of these neglected Third Stream works.

1.1 Historical Underpinnings of Afro-Modernist Musical Analysis While Baker’s (1987) text provided evidence of “masking” strategies at play during the Harlem Renaissance, his earlier work Blues, Ideology, and Afro-American Literature: A Vernacular Theory (1984) is frequently cited as establishing a space for related theories of African-American expressive culture. Tomlinson (1991), for example, cites Baker’s Blues as the first in a movement of “indigenous black theory” texts in which “tropological knowledge functions… as a way of remaking reality by juxtaposing the familiar with the unfamiliar” (Tomlinson, 1991, p. 233). Baker places import on the familiar rather than the unfamiliar in this work, calling for critics to read the incorporation of “new” tropes in African-American literature as the “revision” of core vernacular practices. Links between this concept and Baker’s later discussion

1 DeVeaux discusses the pros and cons of both the evolutionary narrative and the particular historical approach at length in both his 1991 article Constructing the Jazz Tradition and in his 1997 book The Birth of Bebop. 10

of “masking” strategies utilized by Harlem Renaissance figures is evident in the following discussion of dismissed African-American “assimilationists”:

In the past… certain periods and authors of Afro-American expression have simply been written off as “assimilationist.” These “assimilationist” moments in Afro- American expressive culture (e.g., Booker T. Washington’s Up from Slavery) have been categorized as slavishly imitative and metaphorically impoverished occurrences… But if one can legitimately assume that a blues matrix is the productive network the present study claims, then one can also legitimately assume that what appear unlikely expressive spaces in Afro-America may well be charged with blues energies. Another way of stating the proposition is to say that a properly trained critic – one versed in the vernacular and unconstrained by traditional historical determinants – may well be able to discover blues inscriptions and liberating rhythms even in some familiarly neglected works of Afro-American expressive culture (Baker, 1984, p. 115).

The African-American rhetorical tropes that create the “blues energies” alluded to in this passage are given additional focus in Gates’ The Signifyin(g) Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literary Criticism (1988). Building on concepts put forth by sociolinguists Abrahams (1964), Mitchell-Kernan (1972) and Smitherman (1977), as well as those promoted by Baker (1984; 1987), Gates determines the cultural act of “Signifyin(g),” a rhetorical process utilizing figurative speech and double talk (Gates, 1988, p. 52), to be the most useful lens through which vernacular based models can be explicated. His application of the trope as the essential underlying component of African-American expressive culture in turn would hold repercussions for the study of African-American music.

In The Signifyin(g) Monkey, Gates traces the roots of African-American Signifyin(g) to the rhetorical tropes of a shared trickster figure prevalent in the folklore of Nigeria, Benin, Cuba, Haiti, South America and the United States (Gates, 1988, p. 4). He refers to the figure by its Yoruba name, Esu-Elegbara, but argues that the archetype is encoded in, among others, the figures Exfi in Brazil, Echu-Elegua in Cuba, and Papa Legbas in Haiti (Gates, 1988, p. 5). The geographic dissemination of the archetype is linked to the cross-cultural environment of the trans-Atlantic slave trade and while incarnations of the figure are often modified physically, its

propensity for rhetorical strategies involving ambivalent speech manifest universally. In Yoruba culture, the figure presents as an interpreter between God and man. He is responsible for decoding the texts of Ifa, “the god of determinate meanings” (Gates, 1988, p. 21), during the process of divination. Esu’s interpretation is complicated however by “the human being’s curse of… indeterminacy or uncertainty of fate” (Gates, 1988, p. 21). This results in enigmatic translations full of double meanings. In practice, the enigma is often further interpreted by the “babalawo” (diviner) for the benefit of the client yet the message is understood by both to remain indeterminate at its core.

In the pan-African diaspora, Esu archetypes tend to deliver their ambiguous messages in the context of “sacred myths as do characters in a narrative” (Gates, 1988, p. 52). The African- American permutation of Esu however manifests in contrast as an overarching narrative voice. Gates holds that:

Esu’s functional equivalent in Afro-American profane discourse is the Signifying Monkey, a figure who seems to be distinctly Afro-American, probably derived from Cuban mythology, which generally depicts Echu-Elegua with a monkey at his side. Unlike his Pan-African Esu cousins, the Signifying Monkey exists in the discourse of mythology not primarily as a character in a narrative but rather as a vehicle for narration itself (Gates, 1988, p. 52).

The mode of discourse Gates refers to in this quote can be observed in the multiple settings of the “Signifying Monkey,” an African-American toast, or oral narrative, in which the rhetorical strategy of misrepresentation plays an ubiquitous role (for a typical setting of the text see Appendix (a)).

In the toast, the monkey can be seen to persuade a lion through misrepresentation twice. In the first instance, the lion is driven to attack an elephant either through the fabrication or manipulation of the elephant’s comments about the lion’s family as related to him by the Signifying Monkey. Distressed after being trampled by the elephant, the lion attacks the monkey in an act of revenge. At this point, the monkey commits his second act of misrepresentation, convincing the lion to let him go with the promise of relaying a secret he

“really need[s] to know” (Goss & Barnes, 1989, p. 457). The secret ultimately ends up being to the lion’s detriment: “If you fool with me, I’ll sic the elephant on you again!” (Goss & Barnes, 1989, p. 457). The use of this rhetorical strategy not only drives the action of the text, it demonstrates the potential for ambivalent speech to serve as a strategic device in the subversion of established power structures.

Gates uses the African-American term “Signifyin(g)” to refer to the spectrum of devices that comprise the rhetorical approach of the monkey in this toast. The term is a homonym for the English language word “signifying” and its etymology remains unclear (Gates places it “anonymously and unrecorded in antebellum America” (Gates, 1988, p. 46)). He explains the difference between the English and African-American vernacular terms as follows:

The English-language use of signification refers to the chain of signifiers that configure horizontally, on the syntagmatic axis. Whereas signification operates and can be represented on a syntagmatic or horizontal axis, Signifyin(g) operates and can be represented on a paradigmatic or vertical axis. Signifyin(g) concerns itself with that which is suspended, vertically: the chaos of what Saussure calls “associative relations,” which we can represent as the playful puns on a word that occupy the paradigmatic axis of language and which a speaker draws on for figurative substitutions. These substitutions in Signifyin(g) tend to be humorous, or function to name a person or a situation in a telling manner. Whereas signification depends for order and coherence on the exclusion of unconscious associations which any given word yields at any given time, Signification luxuriates in the inclusion of the free play of these associative rhetorical and semantic relations (Gates, 1988, p. 49).

Simply put, “signifying” operates in a linear manner as a cause and effect relationship; there can be only one meaning for something that is signified. The act of “Signifyin(g)” in contrast necessitates multiple meanings. It is the process of saying two or more things at once. This act, according to Gates, serves as “the rhetorical principle” of “African-American vernacular discourse” (Gates, 1988, p. 44). It is the “trope of tropes,” the overarching “figure for black rhetorical figures” (Gates, 1988, p. 51) and the universal “double-voiced utterance” that allows

for a charting of “discrete formal relationships” imbedded throughout the scope of “African- American literary history” (Gates, 1988, p. 88).

While Gates’ theory is the first to assign such overarching status to Signfiyin(g),2 he is not the first scholar to attempt a definition of the term. Abrahams (1964) had earlier endeavoured to set parameters on the word’s meaning by cataloguing its many occurrences:

The term “signifying” seems to be characteristically Negro in use if not in origin. It can mean any of a number of things; in the case of the toast [The Signifying Monkey] it certainly refers to the monkey’s ability to talk with great innuendo, to carb, cajole, neddle and lie. It can mean in other instances the propensity to talk around a subject, never quite coming to the point. It can mean “making fun” of a person or situation. Also it can denote speaking with the hands and eyes, and in this respect encompasses a whole complex of expressions and gestures. Thus it is “signifying” to stir up a fight between neighbours by telling stories; it is signifying to make fun of the police by parodying his motions behind his back; it is signifying to ask for a piece of cake by saying, “My brother needs a piece of that cake.” It is, in other words, many facets of the smart alecky attitude (Abrahams, 1964, p, 52).

Abrahams’ list of Signifyin(g) events is expansive and although it touches on the ambiguous principles of the trope viewed to be paramount by Gates, his emphasis seems less on rhetorical function and more on a general aesthetic of “naughtiness.” Of particular interest is Abrahams’ claim that engaging in obscured mock gestures of authority figures is typical of Signifyin(g) behaviour. Mitchell-Kernan (1972) critiques this aspect of Abrahams definition, citing that “many would label the parodying of the policeman’s motions ‘marking’” (Mitchell-Kernan, 1972, p. 310), an entirely different approach to commentary in African-American discourse involving the use of caricature rather than semantic play.

Mitchell-Kernan’s understanding of the trope instead places Signifyin(g) squarely in the realm of metaphorical communication. Equal weight is placed on both the Signifier’s assembly of

2 The word Signifyin(g) will appear without quotation marks from this point forward. I have adopted Gates’ spelling in an effort to clarify usage of the respective homonyms. 14

words and their interpretation by the intended audience. Only after successful decoding has occurred does Mitchell-Kernan believe an act of Signiyin(g) has taken place. She explains: “A precondition for the application of ‘signifying’ to some speech act is the assumption that the meaning decoded was consciously and purposely formulated at the encoding stage” (Mitchell- Kernan, 1972, p. 312). This act of communication relies heavily on the recipient’s ability to reassemble the contextual relationships implied by the Signifier:

The hearer is thus constrained to attend to all potential meaning-carrying symbolic systems in speech events – the total universe of discourse. The context embeddedness of meaning is attested to by both our reliance on the given context and, most important, by our inclination to construct additional context from our background knowledge of the world (Mitchell-Kernan, 1972, p. 311).

This reading of the trope is further supported by Geneva Smitherman’s (1977) claim that Signifyin(g) necessarily requires direct engagement with the person signified upon. She writes:

Signification has the following characteristics: indirection, circumlocution; metaphorical-imagistic (but images rooted in the everyday, real world); humorous, ironic; rhythmic fluency and sound; teach but not preachy; directed at person or persons usually present in the situational context (siggers do not talk behind yo back); punning, play on words; introduction of the semantically or logically unexpected (Smitherman, 1977, p. 121).

Smitherman’s support of the communicative primacy of the trope is evident in her claim that “siggers do not talk behind yo back.” The communicative aspect is combined with its educative properties (“teach but not preachy”) and its double voiced tendency to create a rhetorical linguistic device and it is this unified process that Gates views as paramount in the construction of African-American literary works.

It must be noted however that Gates’ reliance on this trope as a fundamental organisational construct was not only unique; it was highly contentious. Myers (1990) takes aim at what he

perceives to be Afrocentrism in Gates’ work, apparent in Gates’ failure to detach the literary device of Signifyin(g) from the racial domain:

The sad fact is that Gates’s intentions in The Signifying Monkey are mutually exclusive. Gates cannot specify principles of interpretation inside the black tradition without simultaneously upsetting the whole notion of “black difference” upon which the claim for a black tradition rests. For once a principle is stated it becomes literary, available to any number of writers and critics, and not merely to blacks. Gates recognizes this. As a “principle of language use,” he says, signifying is “not in any way the exclusive property of black people . . . ” To his credit, then, Gates perceives that it would be an error to ascribe the unique characteristics of Afro-American literature to race. But he is not sure what else to ascribe them to. His reasoning runs in circles. Black writers form a tradition. How do you know? They all use the “trope” of signifying. What makes this trope distinctively black? All black writers use it (Myers, 1990, p. 63).

The circularity mentioned by Myers does prove to be problematic if participation in the African-American literary tradition remains exclusively tied to race. At issue is the question of whether a non-African-American can contribute to the tradition or whether participation in this tradition requires racial pedigree. Similar questions arose in early jazz discourse and have been partly answered through the process of canonization. With the benefit of a constructed jazz history (DeVeaux, 1991) an apparent consensus now exists holding that the genre remains both grounded in the aural tradition of African-Americans (discussed at length by Berliner (1994)) and simultaneously open to the contributions of artists other than African-Americans (Atkins 2001; Jones 2001; Austerlitz 2005).3 If there are parallels between the African- American literary and music traditions (and as discussed in the next section of this chapter, Gates assures us there are), then it seems plausible that the literary tradition might also be embraced and developed by non African-Americans.

Yet another facet of critique based on apparent Afrocentrism calls into question the African- American origins of the Signifyin(g) trope itself. Fenstermaker (2008) views the act as closely

3 The books referred to here are significant examples of what Andy Fry refers to as a “diasporic approach” to jazz research that provides a “powerful” tool for “analysing both the musical transformations that take place across borders and the unexpected significations the music sometimes takes on” (Fry, 2007, p. 340). 16

related to what Linda Hutcheon refers to as “complicitous critique” (Hutcheon, 2002, p. 13), a device through which an author “draws on a historical figure or event and simultaneously undermines the historical accuracy of that representation” in an effort to highlight “the ideology behind that representation” (Fenstermaker, 2008, p. 1). She goes on to assert that “whether one calls the artistic process ‘complicitous critique’ or Signifyin(g), the term one uses is, to some extent, dependent upon the author’s race” (Fenstermaker, 2008, p. 1). While these devices may appear similar in the written word, it should be noted that the first level of Signifyin(g) in African-American literature emerges from the transposing of an oral tradition on to written narrative. This is a unique facet of the device and an origin quite different from that of “complitious critique.” The connection of the device’s literary use to the rhetorical tropes of African-American speech may not definitively establish all uses of Signifyin(g) as grounded in African-American culture but it does speak strongly to the culture’s affinity for and facility over the device’s application.

Indeed, there can be little doubt that Signifyin(g) is a rhetorical trope embraced in African- American spoken vernacular. Abrahams (1964), Mitchell-Kernan (1972) and Smitherman (1977) all draw on interviews and personal anecdotes from the African-American community to illustrate their multi-faceted definitions of the device. The role of Signifyin(g) in interpreting African-American literature must therefore be reconciled with both its frequent use as a rhetorical trope in African-American speech and the uncertainty of its origins. This can be accomplished by accepting that Gates’ trope is successful as one theory of African-American literary criticism but may not serve to define all aspects of African-American literary process. If in applying one theory to a particular issue a certain understanding emerges while in applying another, a separate understanding emerges, it is the net knowledge of these interpretations that frames the next empirical question.

I acknowledge that this reading of Gates’ theory undermines part of the agenda on which it is built. As Ramsey (2001) points out, Gates’ hypothesis needs to be viewed “with respect to the cultural work it is performing for its creator[s] and its audience” (Ramsey, 2001, p. 33). In following this line of thinking, the agenda of The Signfiying Monkey can be seen as an extension of a particular political bent, one in which the unification of African and African-American history is prioritized as the vehicle for scholarly ratification of African-American literature.

Passages of The Signifying Monkey speak strongly to this hypothesis. As Gates states in the preface to his work:

I had at last located within the African and AfroAmerican traditions a system of rhetoric and interpretation that could be drawn upon both as figures for a genuinely “black” criticism and as frames through which I could interpret, or “read,” theories of contemporary literary criticism. After several active years of work applying literary theory to African and Afro- American literatures, I realized that what had early on seemed to me to be the fulfillment of my project as a would-be theorist of black literature was, in fact, only a moment in a progression. The challenge of my project, if not exactly to invent a black theory, was to locate and identify how the “black tradition” had theorized about itself (Gates, 1988, p. ix).

Gates’ insistence here that “genuinely ‘black’ criticism” can only be found by looking to Africa elevates the importance of a particular racial strain in the development of African-American culture over strains indigenous to the Caribbean, the Americas and Europe. This connection in turn bestows authority on Gates’ work by providing his theory with an historic (if potentially simplified) grounding in the already established field of African studies.

Rojas’ From Black Power to Black Studies (2007) offers several examples of similar strategic alignments in the development of African-American Studies programs at U.S. universities during the 1990s. Unsurprisingly, Gates features prominently in this discussion as head of the African and African-American Studies department at Harvard, a tenure beginning in 1991 and ending in 2006. Rojas describes the restructuring of the department under Gates as one of the more successful endeavours in establishing a Black Studies presence at the university level. He attributes this success to Gates’ creation of “tracks allowing students to concentrate in either African or African-American studies,” thus permitting “Africanist and African-American scholars to use the same resources and interact with each other” (Rojas, 2007, p. 125). In addition, Rojas points to the contributions of students and faculty to research projects promoting the relationship between Africa and the African diaspora as evidence of a strategic

shift under Gates’ leadership. The Encylopedia Africana (now published online by Microsoft) is singled out as the definitive project of these collaborations.

If the goal of an essentialist alignment between Africa and AfroAmerica was the establishment of academic bodies willing to engage culturally appropriate tools in the analysis of African- American literature (or in fact to accept African-American literature as a legitimate field in the first place), then Gates appears to have been successful. According to Rojas the “continuing existence of black studies programs” serves as evidence that social movements, like the one endorsed by Gates, have created “durable spaces within mainstream institutions” (Rojas, 2007, p. 220). Certainly the derivatives of Gates’ theory found in contemporary music scholarship discussed below demonstrate comfort with a less Afrocentric/activist view of the methodology. This is not to say that the fight for equal recognition of African-American cultural products is over, it is simply meant to place the use of musical theories derived from the Signifyin(g) construct into a context that acknowledges the historical trajectory from which they emerged.

Gates foreshadowed the appropriation of this trope into the domain of musical analysis by stating: “There are so many examples of Signifyin(g) in jazz that one could write a formal history of its development on this basis alone” (Gates, 1988, p. 63). He follows this comment with a depiction of jazz as a language akin to black vernacular English, developed through the identification of overlapping practices regarding repetition and revision in both media. Gates so confidently assumes the affinity of these aural traditions, he uses an allusion to the music of Count Basie to summarize the connection between African-American aural practices and his newly identified literary trope, writing:

Indirection is the most common feature of the definitions of Signifyin(g) that I have outlined in Chapter 2. Basie’s composition allows us to see Signifyin(g) as the tradition’s trope of revision as well as of figuration. Throughout his piece, Basie alludes to styles of playing that predominated in black music between 1920 and 1940. These styles include ragtime, stride, barrelhouse, boogie-woogie, and the Kansas City “walking bass” so central to swing in the thirties. Through these allusions, Basie has created a composition characterized by pastiche. He has recapitulated the very tradition

out of which he grew and from which he descended. Basie, in other words, is repeating the formal history of his tradition within his composition entitled “Signify.” It is this definition of Signify that allows for its use as a metaphor of Afro-American formal revision (Gates, 1988, p. 124).

Gates does not distinguish between African-American spoken and musical traditions in this passage, instead conflating them both when speaking of the tradition (second sentence of quote), negating the need to bridge a theoretical gap in applying his literary theory to the musical realm.

Ethnomusicologist Steven Feld (1974) had warned against this modal blending more than a decade earlier, claiming that: “Most of the activity involving linguistic models in ethnomusicology falls into the hocus-pocus category” (Feld, 1974, p. 211). Feld’s critique was aimed mainly at ethnomusicologists who derived overarching theories of musical construction based on perceptions of culturally specific linguistic parallels. The main problem with this approach was that researchers ignored “issues like the empirical comparison of models, a metatheory of music, evaluation procedures, and the relation of the models to the phenomena they supposedly explain” (Feld, 1974, p. 210). Although Feld’s critique significantly predates Gates’ work, it adumbrates a valid critique of Signifyin(g) as a master trope for the study of African-American music. Much like the ethnomusicologists Feld takes to task, Gates does not pursue any routes towards an empirical evaluation of his theory, instead allowing his many examples to stand as self-evident. In his assertions on music this omission is even more problematic as the qualitative examples are fewer. However, if the linguistic/musical cross- over Gates refers to is removed from the context of an all encompassing theory of artistic expression and woven into the fabric of a complex array of devices available for use by African-American artists, then an imperative for empirical verification seems less urgent. Or more to the point, acknowledging that there may be multiple readings of what exactly comprises African-American artistic expression allows those working in African-American Music Studies to more freely utilize the findings of some qualitative researchers while leaving the findings of others to stand as alternative hypotheses.

The set of qualitative studies demonstrating linguistic/musical links in African-American culture (and thereby supporting Signifyin(g) analyses of African-American music) tend to draw their evidence from the blurred lines between spoken and sung text in gospel services. Garland’s (1969) account of the development of Soul music builds partly on this concept, describing the fusion of rhythmic speech and song as an important facet of soul musician Aretha Franklin’s style. He claims that the “incantatory use of rhythm” in her father’s sermons “ineradicably impressed” her style (Garland, 1969, p. 24) and supports this assertion with the following personal observation:

In her singing and in her playing I have heard many of the techniques familiar to my own Baptist upbringing. Similarly, when Ray Charles comes to the end of a chorus and lets loose with a half-chanted and half-sung cluster of improvised lyrics building up to a screamed “Yeeeeee-aah!” that seems to batter at the very gates of heaven, whipping the audience into a state of deliciously unbearable tension that inflames it to the point of shouting back its own unison “Yeah” I am more than a little reminded of the prancing, perspiring, hymn-humming preachers of my youth who could take a list of biblical names, linking them only with the rhythmically injected word “begat,” and produce such an intoxicating effect that the “sisters” of the church would “get happy” and “shout,” springing up from the pews (Garland, 1969, p. 24).

Garland’s analysis is plainly subjective yet his description of similar rhetorical devices utilized by both the musician and the preacher are echoed in Heilbut’s (1971) discussion of the vernacular practices of gospel singers: “When they talk among themselves, their language is a compound of tradition and innovation. Like the singing itself, it employs all manner of nonverbal aids – moans, hums, chuckles – to enhance communication” (Heilbut, 1971, p. xxxii). Such early observations paved the way for more methodical investigations of linguistic/musical links in gospel services.

Williams-Jones’ (1975) work models an ideal aesthetic for gospel singing based largely on the singer’s extension of the preacher’s rhetorical approach:

In seeking to communicate the gospel message, there is little difference between the gospel singer and the gospel preacher in the approach to his subject. The same techniques are used by the preacher and the singer – the singer perhaps being considered the lyrical extension of the rhythmically rhetorical style of the preacher. Inherent in this also is the concept of black rhetoric, folk expressions, bodily movement, charismatic energy, cadence, tonal range and timbre (Williams-Jones, 1975, p. 381).

One linguistic element given particular focus by Williams-Jones is the use of the folk expression “worrying the line,” in which one alters the pitch of a note in a spoken passage (Henderson, 1973, p. 41). After claiming that “Black speech is a significant aspect of the gospel performance idiom” (Williams-Jones, 1975, p. 383), Williams-Jones demonstrates how worrying the line manifests in a musical context:

As a solo technique, worrying the line is most often encountered in the gospel selections which are in slow tempo. This allows the maximum opportunity for the inventiveness of the soloist in improvisation and building an emotional climax (Williams-Jones, 1975, p. 383.)

Like Garland (1969) and Heilbut (1971), the comparative approach undertaken by Williams- Jones highlights links between the spoken and musical realms. However, by choosing a specific device instead of an overall aesthetic approach, she is able to more successfully argue for the connection.

Snead (1981) utilizes a similar method in his essay “On Repetition in Black Culture.” Drawing largely on qualitative evidence assembled by Chernoff (1979), Snead concludes that repetition in black literature is informed by “‘musical’ prototypes in the sense that repetition of words and phrases, rather than being overlooked [are] exploited as a structural and rhythmic principle” (Snead, 1981, p. 151). These prototypes in turn link to rhetorical practices of the black church. To illustrate his point, he focuses on the musical device of “the cut,” applied frequently in the music of James Brown:

The format of the Brown “cut” and repetition is similar to that of African drumming: After the band has been “cookin’” in a given key and tempo, a cue, either verbal (“get down” or “Mayfield” – the sax player’s name – or “watch it now”) or musical (a brief series of rapid, percussive drum and horn accents) then directs the music to a new level where it stays with more “cookin’” or perhaps a solo – until a repetition of cues then “cuts” back to the primary tempo (Snead, 1981, p. 150).

The type of repetition discussed here is utilized for the structural purpose of shifting between textures in the work. The result of this approach is that Brown’s music remains repetitive horizontally but manifests variation vertically (in this example Snead refers to the addition of a soloist as one textural permutation). Snead then turns to the pulpit of the black church to describe the rhetorical origin of this device:

Both preacher and congregation employ the “cut.” The preacher “cuts” his own speaking in interrupting himself with a phrase such as “praise God” (whose weight here cannot be at all termed denotative or imperative but purely sensual and rhythmic – an underlying “social” beat provided for the congregation). The listeners, in responding to the preacher’s calls at random intervals, produce each time they “cut,” a slight shift in the texture of the performance. At various intervals a musical instrument such as the organ, and often spontaneous dancing, accompanies the speaker’s repetition of the “cut.” When the stage of highest intensity comes, gravel-voiced “speaking in tongues” or the “testifying,” usually delivered at a single pitch, gives credence to the hypothesis that all along the very texture of the sound and nature of the rhythm – but not the explicit meaning – in the spoken words have been at issue (Snead, 1981, p. 151).

Snead’s assessment of the use of “the cut” in this context demonstrates similarity to its use in the musical realm: it is employed to produce “a slight shift in the texture of the performance.” While it may be impossible to demonstrate a fundamental principle of similarity in African- American linguistic and musical approaches (especially given the limitations of qualitative analysis noted by Feld (1974)), Snead’s observations do identify the use of similar structural tools in both media. The effect of these observations in combination with the comparative study of Williams-Jones (1975) and early observations of Garland (1969) and Heilbut (1971)

are indicative of the general consensus over the fundamental nature of African-American performative practices which seem to inspire the über-trope of Gates’ Signifyin(g) Monkey. Such a perceived affinity between linguistic and musical models set the foundation for the use of spoken vernacular theory more directly in musical analysis. While it is not my intention to over-emphasize the influence of research into Gospel practices as opposed to research into African-American linguistic practices on this methodological shift, it is worth noting that many of Gates’ most vocal champions in the musical realm supported their use of his theory by referring to accepted linguistic/musical links in African-American religious settings.

1.2 The Power of Black Music: Afro-Modernism in the Musical Realm This type of legitimization permeates the comments of speakers during a 1993 roundtable discussion hosted by the Center for Black Music Research (CBMR), of which the expressed goal was to investigate the use of Gates’ theory as a “common mode of inquiry for the study of black artistic expression” (Floyd, 1995b, p. 5). Participant James Winn argued the legitimacy of such pursuits by pointing out that: “Black culture in America, both spoken and sung, did a remarkable job of transform[ing]… the King James Bible.” He continued this explanation by stating that the text had been “taken and made into something living and… very often into something powerfully musical” as a result of the “multi- or interdisciplinary process” (Winn, 1995, p. 16). Jon Michael Spencer concurred, referencing the concept of trans-modal African- American cultural products soon to be put forth in Michael Harris’ book The Rise of the Gospel Blues (1994). Mari Evans in turn cited the research on “worrying the line” discussed in this chapter, claiming that “tonal memory as poetic structure” and “mascon structures endemic to both music and poetry” begged a “common scholarship” (Evans, 1995, p. 30).

Even more directly, CBMR convener Samuel Floyd would use African-American religious practices to justify his reliance on Signifyin(g) analyses in his 1995 book The Power of Black Music. This work begins by exploring “aspects of African expressions in religious, musical and narrative contexts” in order to “set the stage” for an “understanding [of] how these expressions were transformed” in the world of African-American music (Floyd, 1995a, p. 10). Floyd establishes a language/music link early on, drawing on Burlin’s (1919) account of spoken and sung call-and-response figures in black worship ceremonies and Tonsor’s (1892) claim of “slave songs… disappearing ‘before the triumphant march of Gospel Hyms’” and Sherwood

(1893) and Tindley’s (1905) accounts of rhetorical practices in the Sanctified and Pentecostal churches, from which he concludes:

The spiritual and the black declamatory style went hand in hand, simply because they both emerged from the same source: African intonations, inflections, and rhythmic conventions applied to a new language and linguistic style in the context of a new religion (Floyd, 1995a, p. 62).

With this parallel established, Floyd goes on to infer the existence of an all-encompassing African-American artistic tradition, replete with shared tropes and universal rhetorical principles. He supports this claim through further documentation of cross modal African- American cultural practices, building a foundation on which to base his appropriation of Gates’ literary theory.

The use of Gates’ theory in Floyd’s work is pivotal in the history of African-American music studies because it provided the field a tool it had long been without. Not only was the theory able to explain syncretic strategies prevalent throughout the history of African-American music development, more importantly, it was able to bestow complete ownership of these syncretic products to African-Americans. In support of this latter point, Floyd uses Baker’s (1987) work, defined as a theory of AfroAmerican modernity, to unite the systematic use of “metaphorical masks” during the Harlem Renaissance with Gates’ concept of Signifyin(g) under the broad umbrella of African-American music. As stated earlier, Baker bases his argument around the oratory style of Booker T. Washington, claiming that his success as a Harlem Renaissance figure stemmed from an ability to advocate for the advancement of African-Americans “by stepping inside the white world’s nononsense syllables with oratorical mastery” (Baker, 1987, p. 25). The “masks” Washington wore may have appeared to be white, but by taking up the “tones of nononsense to earn a national reputation” Washington was able to win “corollary benefits for the Afro-American masses” (Baker, 1987, p. 33). This type of subversion links directly with Floyd’s reading of the Signifyin(g) trope:

Signifyin(g) is a way of saying one thing and meaning another; it is a reinterpretation, a metaphor for the revision of previous texts and figures; it is tropological thought,

repetition with a difference, the obscuring of meaning, all to achieve or reverse power, to improve situations and to achieve pleasing results for the signifier…

In African-American music, musical figures Signify by commenting on other musical figures, on themselves, on performances of other music, on other performances of the same piece, and on completely new works of music. Moreover, genres Signify on other genres— ragtime on European and early European and American dance music; blues on the ballad; the spiritual on the hymn; jazz on blues and ragtime; gospel on the hymn, the spiritual, and blues; soul on rhythm and blues, rock 'n' roll, and rock music; bebop on swing, ragtime rhythms, and blues; funk on soul; rap on funk; and so on (Floyd, 1995a, p. 95).

In this explanation, Floyd identifies a musical strategy for the advancement of the African- American voice. He suggests that syncretic African-American musical works are, in fact, purpose built vehicles utilizing the veneer of other genres in order to expand their reach and commercial presence. This argument fits easily inside Baker’s “masking” concept and it is a process Floyd believes can be evidenced through musical analysis.

His discussion of William Grant Still’s Afro-American Symphony (1930) is convincing in this regard. Here, Floyd focuses on the interaction of opposing forms, referring to both the use of “orational rhetoric and conformational structure” in the integration “of an original twelve-bar blues” within “a sonata-allegro format” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 253). The effect of this conflict creates, in words borrowed by Floyd, “structured structure (Kramer, 1990), concatenated (Bonds, 1991),” with the goal of “making ‘correct’ the black presence within the larger sonata- allegro structure” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 254). As a strategy for expanding the reach of African- American music, Floyd views Still’s approach as a success, summarising its impact in the following terms: “Fraught with dialogical, rhetorical troping, the entire work carries considerable semantic value… The Afro-American Symphony effectively realized the goals of the Harlem Renaissance, with Still vindicating the faith of the movement’s intellectuals and establishing himself as the first black composer of a successful symphony” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 110). Yet the observation that Still was able to make a symphony orchestra speak with an African-American voice is only the first layer of Signifyin(g) broached in Floyd’s analysis. A

linked line of inquiry addresses the specific tropes that comprise the spectrum of African- American musical material and their own interaction during the metaphorical act.

Where Baker (1987) and Gates (1988) provided Floyd with a rationale for using a “masking” methodology in the study of African-American musical development, Sterling Stuckey’s (1987) work on African-American musical practices helped clarify for Floyd the enduring aspects of the tradition required to wear the “minstrel mask.” Stuckey’s work Slave Culture (1987) outlines the rituals and cultural traditions of early African-Americans and the relationship of these practices to the rituals and cultural traditions of several ethnic groups from west-Africa. Prevalent throughout the work are references to the Ring Shout, a circle ceremony brought to the Americas by African slaves and homogenized as a forum in which disparate cultural groups were able to unite under the recognition of common values (Stuckey, 1987, p. 16). Stuckey’s naming of the Shout as the birth place of a universal African-American culture provided Floyd with a starting point from which he could trace essential aspects of African-American music making through the maze of syncretic processes resultant of Signifyin(g). In an earlier version of the theoretical principles outlined in The Power of Black Music, Floyd makes his reliance on Stuckey’s research explicit:

Stuckey regards the Negro spiritual as central to the ring and foundational to all subsequent Afro-American music-making. He noticed in descriptions of the shout that, in the ring, musical practices from throughout black culture converged in the spiritual. These included elements of the calls, cries, and hollers; call-and-response devices; additive rhythms and polyrhythms; heterophony, pendular thirds, blue notes, bent notes, and elisions; hums, moan, grunts, vocables, and other rhythmic-oral declamations, interjections, and punctuations; off-beat melodic phrasings and parallel intervals and chords; constant repetition of rhythmic and melodic figures and phrases (from which riffs and vamps would be derived); timbral distortions of various kinds; musical individuality within collectivity; game rivalry; hand-clapping, foot patting, and approximations thereof; and the metronomic foundational pulse that underlies all Afro-American music. Consequently, since all of the defining elements of black music are present in the ring, Stuckey’s formulation can be seen as a frame in which all black-music analysis and interpretation can take place – a formulation that can

confirm the importance of the performance practices crucial to black music expression (Floyd, 1991, p. 267-8).

The musical devices outlined in this passage would later be coined “Ring tropes” and their presence in the music of African-Americans was viewed by Floyd as paramount in defining a work as “‘real’ black music” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 167). Like Gates’ assertions of ownership over metaphorical speech however, the ascription of such a vast list of musical devices solely to African origins proved problematic for some researchers, an issue the temporal parameters of Floyd’s study would only partially address.

Brown’s (1999) critique of Afrocentrism in aligning Ring tropes with African origins relies heavily on what he views as a return to the primitivism of 1940s French jazz criticism. The term “primitivism” in this context refers to a particular social viewpoint in which artists from outside Western culture were seen to have an innate, natural disposition towards creativity. Gioia (1989) traces the emergence of this philosophy from a French preoccupation with African sculpture beginning around 1906 (Gioia, 1989, p. 131) to the arrival of jazz in Paris in the 1920s. He assigns lead roles in the advancement of its tenets to the writing of Hugues Panassié, Charles Delaunay, and Robert Goffin, which describe the behaviour of jazz musicians in terms that invoke the “noble savage” motif rooted in the philosophy of Rousseau (Gioia, 1989, p. 131). Brown, in turn, charges a similar comparison is made when musical devices, such as rhythmic affect in African-American music, are ascribed purely to African roots. He states:

African rhythm is indeed distinctive, when contrasted with European rhythmic practice. However, jazz rhythm, Hodeir would say, is a convergent effect of European and African practice. The rhythmic basis of what we call “swing,” Hodeir argues, largely depends upon a placement of notes in what Hodeir terms the “superstructure” over an “infrastructure,” so that the strata catalyse each other. The result is that musical phrases are felt both as moving independently of an underlying pulse and as continually being recaptured by it. Jazz rhythm is a result of diverse inputs, not an isolate African element in the music. A consistent primitivism would purge the music of the rhythmic features most distinctive of it (Brown, 1999, p. 236).

Brown’s claim of confluence as an essential part of African-American music differs from Floyd’s more in the intent of Brown’s work than in its actual conclusions. Both Brown and Floyd champion the syncretic tradition of African-American music. They agree that it is largely based around the sharing of African and European cultural products. Brown however views the tradition as the key process from which tropes emerge while Floyd views it as a means of sustaining core African elements in the face of cultural assimilation. Floyd’s counterargument to Brown’s discussion of “swing” might point out that the aggregate rhythmic form itself could be viewed as a Ring trope already having undergone a Signifyin(g) revision. Floyd’s insistence on revision as a core element of both African and African-American culture on the other hand would then beg the additional question: How far back must one go before a set of devices can be identified as core features of a musical tradition?

The historic framework of Floyd’s musical investigation indicates a potential answer to this question. Although the temporal parameters of Floyd’s book are not explicitly stated, the content of The Power of Black Music provides clues to the extent Floyd is willing to investigate the historical line of African revision practices. While the subtitle reads “interpreting its history from Africa to the United States,” all musical works given substantial attention in the text were written after the forced transportation of slaves to American soil. Even more telling is a significant reliance on the recording Art Songs by Black American Composers (1981) as the data source for Floyd’s most analytical chapter. Only the first chapter of the book discusses musical practices on the African continent and this mainly serves to provide a context for the AfroAmerican Ring shout traditions discussed at length in the second chapter. Floyd’s work can therefore be viewed as mainly concerned with the musical tradition of African-Americans, a culture birthed in the assimilations of the Ring and from which a practice involving the amalgamation of Ring tropes and Signifyin(g) emerged. Floyd unites these elements under the banner of yet another über-trope: “Call-Response” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 95).

Floyd defines Call-Response as the use of Ring tropes during the act of Signifyin(g). The repetition of these figures during a musical work (or across a series of musical works) carries both a “nonverbal semantic value” and a contextually relevant implicative value (Floyd, 1995a, p. 95). Floyd offers the following observation to illustrate this rather involved process:

For example, when pendular thirds are used in an original melodic statement, they may constitute a “call”; when they are used to comment on, or “trope,” a pre-existing use of such thirds, they can be said to constitute a “response,” a Signifyin(g) revision (Floyd, 1995a, p. 96).

Here Floyd demonstrates the use of “pendular thirds,” a Ring trope, in the act of musical Signifyin(g). The alteration of the trope in its repetition is shown to be necessarily related to its preceding occurrence. The two statements function both as discrete parts of a larger melodic statement and as a married unit. If this use of “pendular thirds” occurs in the context of an appropriated music genre, such as Still’s Afro-American Symphony, then the Signifyin(g) act would be seen to do double duty. Not only would the two units function independently and as a commentary on each other, the very fact that the trope of Call-Response was being used in a musical context outside the African-American tradition would denote a further layer of revision. Floyd claims that through this process:

Power relations were significantly reversed, turning white texts into black as black musicians applied African-American rhetorical strategies to European forms. In these events, European and American dance music was trifled with, teased and censured as it never had been before – infused with the semantic tropes and values of Call- Response (Floyd, 1995a, p. 98).

In order to fully comprehend the meaning of this statement, it is useful to succinctly sum up Floyd’s multifaceted use of Signifyin(g): The device is viewed in this discussion both as the manner in which Ring tropes interact in a musical work as well as the meaning they produce when integrated into syncretic bodies. Therefore, as Floyd views the very nature of the African-American music tradition as embracing syncreticism, the Signifyin(g) act can be seen as an essential structural element in the study of African-American music.

Such essentialisation has led Ramsey (1996) to locate Floyd’s The Power of Black Music within the larger body of projects concerned with “canon formation” (Ramsey, 1996, p. 37). The work builds cultural capital to this end by providing “a black perspective to the field” in which “race ideology is of singular importance” (Ramsey, 1996, p. 15). He goes on to claim that this

perspective achieves a different political goal than the work of those operating under “pan- European musical models” in the study of African-American music (Ramsey, 1996, p. 14). While the musical features analyzed by both approaches may appear similar, as they do in the comparison of Floyd and Brown’s views put forth earlier, reliance on a singular African genesis in Floyd’s work takes on the role of a “political defense of the racial self against racism” (Gates quoted in Ramsey, 1996, p. 37). The need for such a defense becomes apparent when the insinuations of studies from the pan-European school are surveyed.

1.3 Reading “pan-European” Approaches to Jazz Studies Most writings exemplifying the pan-European approach to the study of African-American music emerged as musicologists began taking on the task of assessing jazz works. Standing in contrast to ethnographies detailing Gospel practices, the broad methodological trend in this line of inquiry typically involved tracing the evolution of structural elements in the genre through transcriptions and analytical techniques established for the study of Western art music. Evaluation in these investigations then revolved around a comparison of the structural elements of the jazz works studied with musical conventions typically found in the works of European composers. Sargeant’s Jazz Hot and Hybrid (1938), published at the height of the swing era, provided the first book length study oriented along these lines. As the incorporation of European elements into jazz became more pronounced following the 1940s however, others would begin applying similar methodologies (Schuller, 1958b, 1968; Schmitz & de Lerma, 1979). When viewed from a contemporary context, such assessments appear to evince Eurocentric bias. Yet it cannot be denied that the majority of authors engaging in this approach were advocates of jazz, highlighting elements of the music that appeared to them to be novel.

Indeed, the expansion of jazz ensembles and greater focus placed on composition during the 1930s swing era naturally served as a central focus for Sargeant’s pioneering study. Sargeant endeavoured to explain these developments as a purposeful pairing of “European” and “African” musical elements, a position that did not set him drastically apart from the

assimilationist arguments of Harlem Renaissance leaders.4 Yet despite this compartmentalised approach, vernacular tropes were not in and of themselves championed in this assessment. Instead, they accrued value only as their inherent qualities or the manner of their deployment reflected Western art music conventions. This valuation comes across in Sargeant’s conclusions regarding jazz melody. He writes:

Cell for cell, or melody for melody, they often compare favourably with the themes of highbrow music…. But when you have played it that is all there is – a beautiful, self- sufficient amoeba. Beethoven’s crusty little motif is a cell of a different sort, almost without significance by itself, but capable of being reproduced into a vast symphonic organism with dramatic climaxes and long range emotional tensions (Sargeant, 1975, p. 273).

Evident in this passage is an attempt to both praise and critique jazz melodic content along European lines. The first sentence of the quote in which Sargeant compares melodies “cell for cell” demonstrates a validation of jazz melody in terms of its suitability to Western art music aesthetics. The next two sentences however posit that despite this achievement, the melodic aspects of jazz can still be viewed as naïve in European terms – they are, in Sargeant’s words, “amoebic” and resistant to manipulation. Such apparent shortcomings stem from expectations regarding how melody ideally functions in works of classical music and fails to engage with the significance of repeated melodic units in African-American expressive culture.

Ethnographic jazz studies that followed Sargeant’s work took more nuanced views. Finkelstein (1948) and Ulanov’s (1952) works, discussed at length in Chapter Three, endeavoured to establish a space for jazz as a genuinely new music with its own aesthetic criteria. In many ways these works challenged racialised readings of jazz practitioners put forth by French critics surveyed earlier in this chapter while foreshadowing the rhetorical analysis of 1970s Gospel music discussed in the previous section. Such an approach however could not capitalize on positivist trends in academia to the extent of European style musicological analysis. As

4 For instance, Alain Locke lauded the transposition of “folk elements” onto “traditional musical forms” in Duke Ellington’s four movement work Reminiscing in Tempo (Locke, [1936] 1991, p. 96-9), referring to the piece as “classical jazz” and later explicating the term as a “healthy vigorous fusion of jazz and the classical tradition” (Locke, [1936] 1991, p. 114). 32

Kerman (1985) indicates, the dominant paradigm of musicology across University campuses during the 1950s was that of “formalistic criticism” (Kerman, 1985, pp. 114-5). Documentation and comparative musical analysis overshadowed hermeneutical approaches, leading to the standardization of particular methodological paths towards the scholarly ratification of music (Kerman, 1985, p. 115). When this historical setting is taken into account, works assessing jazz in European terms can be viewed as introducing the study of jazz to the realm of musicology in a way that would have guaranteed it the most critical weight.

Schuller’s 1958 study of Sonny Rollins’ use of “thematic variation” is indicative of this approach. He begins his analysis by transcribing Rollins solo on Blue 7 (1956) in Western notation before comparing melodic phrases from throughout the performance with the original Blue 7 theme. Schuller finds that the coherence in Rollin’s solo mirrors “classical” music concepts of thematic unity and claims this aspect of the work is what makes it a valuable contribution to the jazz tradition (Schuller, 1958b, p. 21). Again, the problem with this methodology does not stem from its ability to provide useful information (many of Schuller’s observations are accurate and noteworthy) but from its failure to engage with African- American musical processes. Walser (1993) articulates this view in his critique of Schuller’s study:

In his famous analysis of Sonny Rollins’s “Blue 7,” Schuller consistently avoided commenting on rhetoric or affect, and reduced the force of Rollins’s improvisation to the articulation of unity and order. Though it is clear that Schuller, along with everyone else, hears much more than that in this recording, his precise labeling of musical details and persuasive legitimation of jazz according to longstanding musicological criteria caused many critics to hail this article as a singular triumph. All it really tells us about Rollins, however, is that his improvisations are coherent; it says nothing about why we might value that coherence, why we find it meaningful, or how this solo differs from any of a million other coherent pieces of music (Walser, 1993, p. 349).

Of course investigation of the issues Walser identifies would have stood at odds with the academic world Kerman (1985) describes as well as Schuller’s developing position within it. During the early 1960s, Schuller committed to building his credentials along accepted academic

lines, contributing several articles to the journal Perspectives of New Music (Schuller, 1963; Schuller, 1964; Schuller, 1965) and presenting a musical analysis of Milhaud’s Suite Française (1944) at the 1964 conference of the National Association for Music Education (Bobbit, 1964, p. 44). While none of these ventures involved the study of vernacular music, they were effective in establishing Schuller as an “objective” musicologist, an orientation he would then cite in the preface to his first book: Early Jazz (1968).5 Commitment to a Western analytical approach in Early Jazz (1968) in turn resulted in a degree of academic acceptance for the study of the music. Hall (1968), for instance, praised the analytical features of Schuller’s study in his review of the work for the Music Educators Journal (Hall, 1968, p. 88) and Wang (1973) heralded its promise in the pages of The Musical Quarterly (Wang, 1973, p. 531).

Given the institutional support for this type of analysis, it is unsurprising that Sargeant’s third edition of Jazz Hot and Hybrid, published in 1975, contained an expansion of the Western art music comparative analysis used in his 1938 edition. Of particular interest in the later version are his comments on Miles Davis’ Birth of the Cool recordings, made between 1948 and 1950. He begins this discussion by detailing how Davis and his bebop peers utilized “‘form,’ in the ‘classical’ sense,” breaking with “the conventions of the rigid, foursquare thirty two bar chorus” and introducing “a greater degree of chromaticism” (Sargeant, 1975, p. 256). These findings then lead Sargeant to conclude that:

Miles Davis seems to have become a sort of Claude Debussy of jazz. At any rate, in listening to such records as Birth of the Cool (Capitol) and Miles Davis and the Modern Jazz Giants (Prestige), one is often struck with the impression that what one is listening to is not jazz at all. Most of the numbers on the former disc might be the work of a “classical” impressionist composer with a great sense of aural poetry and a very fastidious feeling for tone color… The music sounds more like that of a new Maurice Ravel than it does like jazz… If Miles Davis were an established “classical” composer, his work would rank high among that of his contemporary colleagues. But it is not really jazz (Sargeant, 1975, p. 257).

5 Schuller states at the outset the work evinces “the objective research of the historian musicologist” (Schuller, 1968, p. ix). 34

Such comments demonstrate an awareness of the achievement of Davis’ work and rightly identify the presence of Western art music sonorities as novel aspects. Yet Sargeant carries this thinking a step further, describing the work as “a gesture in the direction of highbrow ‘classical’ music” and suggesting that “if it were to set a permanent trend, the boundaries between jazz and ‘classical’ would disappear,” before adding, “Why shouldn’t they?” (Sargeant, 1975, p. 257). The ideological position that emerges when these two statement are compared indicates that for Sargeant, the subsumption of jazz into the body of Western art music signalled the true potential of the vernacular genre.

Modern views on syncretism would of course challenge this reading. Operating under a different theoretical strain, Floyd (1995a) views the importance of the Birth of the Cool recordings in terms of the meaning they might have had for those aware of the Signifyin(g) process. He states that “Davis was playing on the verges, exploring the crossroads where African-American and European myth and ritual meet” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 164) and then goes on to quote Tomlinson’s argument that such play allowed for communal affirmation of a “wide-ranging variety of African-American perceptions” (Tomlinson, 1991, p. 256). Nowhere in Floyd’s argument does he negate the presence of European compositional conventions. To the contrary, he lists “European structures such as rondo and fugue” as important components of the cool jazz style (Floyd, 1995a, p. 164). Yet the meaning of these musical features does not represent, for Floyd, a step closer to the Western-art music tradition. They are instead viewed as part of the metaphorical mask of Afro-Modernism, devices Signified upon in an act Floyd believes “the Harlem Renaissance thinkers would have embraced” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 164).

However, the shift to Floyd’s perspective would come only later for jazz studies and the championing of European aesthetic concepts made overt in Schuller (1958b) and Sargeant’s (1975) approach persisted throughout the 1970s. Occasionally this reliance resulted in a rejection of the jazz genre as being African-American at all. Albeit Schmitz and de Lerma’s (1979) study represents an extreme view, its findings provide sufficient cause for the development of alternate Afrological methodologies. The work locates the tropes of jazz improvisation and repetition in Western art music and paints jazz as an outgrowth of this tradition. In regards to improvisation, the authors parallel the jazz musician’s chord based improvisations with the Italian style of sketched figured bass notations in which “the

shorthand notation… acts only as a skeleton, demanding a freely phrased execution” (Schmitz & de Lerma, 1979, p. 78). Through this comparison, the authors are then able to infer jazz performance as a Baroque performance derivative. This assumption becomes even more spurious in discussion of the concept of repetition. Schmitz & de Lerma point to the double alternativo present in Bach’s Orchestral suites as a forbearer of the jazz shout chorus, going on to claim that the underlying principle of “konzertieren, of making music in concert… rules Baroque music as much as it does jazz” (Schmitz & de Lerma, 1979, p. 78).

The goals of Schmitz and de Lerma’s article are not dissimilar to Schuller’s (1958b; 1968) or Sargeant’s (1975) work, in that they are clearly advocates of jazz searching for a path towards scholarly ratification. In fact, they go further in stating this agenda than any of the other authors surveyed in this section, writing at the beginning of their article: “despite the differences in material, we hit upon the effect of various principles in common which, without a tradition in the strictest sense, lie at the bottom of both of these musical phenomena and bring about an amazing abundance of related manifestations” (Schmitz & de Lerma, 1979, p. 76). However, by identifying only reflections of Western art music in this search for commonality, the authors marginalise African-American’s from the role of genre creators to the position of mere practitioners.

1.4 Reading “pan-European” Approaches to Third Stream music Such over articulation of Western art music influence seems to occur more consistently in assessments of Third Stream music. Evaluations along these lines likely extend from the overtness of Western art music sonorities in the genre and the extent to which composers sought to highlight Western art music affinity in the marketing of their projects (discussed at length in Chapter Two). Yet several of these assessments were made after the Baker/Gates paradigm had shifted into the musical realm, demonstrating a reluctance by some researchers to view the Third Stream as a product of African-American expressive culture even once Signifyin(g) and “masking” practices had been identified as the culture’s key rhetorical principles. Driving these later assessments is a consensus, established by early pan-European criticism of the genre, that all pre-planned or composed material in Third Stream works was drawn directly from Western art music models. The perceived lack of ambiguity regarding the cultural origins of this material seems to stem from the compartmentalisation of tropes in the

works of Schuller (1958b; 1968) and Sargeant (1975) and can be seen to have had the residual effect in Third Stream assessments of essentialising improvisation as the sole musical trope of jazz music.

Owens’ (1976) study of the MJQ fugal works represents one of the first assessments of Third Stream works carried out along these lines. Charting thematic repetition entirely in European “fugal” terminology, Owens begins by describing the opening call and response of the 1952 work Vendome as a “subject-answer” pair and the improvisational section that follows as an “episode” (Owens, 1976, p. 26). Subsequent subject-answer pairs are referred to as “composed exposition[s]” and are linked with “episodes” in the same key to form four distinct exposition- episode blocks (Owens, 1976, p. 26). As with Schuller’s 1958 study of Rollins’ Blue 7 solo, coherence alone is seen to be the work’s biggest achievement. This comes across in Owens’ comments depicting Lewis’ use of “expositions and episodes” as producing “some of the most cohesive ensemble performances in the history of jazz” (Owens, 1976, p. 27). Presented as they are, such a cataloguing of Western art music tropes effectively cages Lewis’ works as more indebted to European influence than to vernacular roots.

A parallel focus on European organisational conventions drives Stuessy’s (1977) Third Stream study. His work surveys a variety of Third Stream compositions from the 1950s and 1960s and analyses their written scores for what he describes as two styles of syncretism: one in which disparate tropes are fused and one in which they are juxtaposed. Yet Stuessy’s methodology predisposes his findings to uncovering the latter style. He begins by separating “classical composers” and “jazz composers” based on an interpretation of individual biography and then states he will apply European terms such as “binary, ternary, sonata-allegro, and rondo” to discussions of formal aspects of the works (Stuessy, 1977, p. 7) while utilizing the terms “improvisation,” “swing,” and “blues” to discuss vernacular elements. Basing discussions of form on a European perspective can then be seen to impact the findings of the study. This is apparent in Stuessy’s assessment of the Lewis work Sketch (1959), of which he writes: “Lewis presents, in the first twenty-eight bars, a basic formal structure and certain motivic material. This is followed by six choruses which are derived from the basic material” and then the assessment, “particularly noticeable is the simple, unsophisticated writing for the string quartet. There is little harmonic imagination, almost no notated rhythmic interest and very limited

independence of lines especially within the string quartet” (Stuessy, 1977, pp. 348, 355). Set out in this critique is an unease with simplicity and repetition as well as the assumption that the use of a string quartet begs a style of writing that embraces harmonic complexity, rhythmic variety and independent part writing, factors that would indeed align the work more closely with Western art music practices. Such an assessment comes at the cost of devaluing repetitive Ring tropes, features that allow the improvisations of soloists to provide vertical rather than horizontal compositional devolvement (a concept discussed earlier in relation to Snead’s (1981) assessment of James Brown). Like Owens’ (1976) study, evaluation of success in this work can be viewed as grounded in an ideology of European structural coherence fundamentally opposed to African-American structural concepts.

Lewis’ work meets similar treatment in Budds’ (1978) survey of the Third Stream genre. Discussing stylistic elements more generally, Budds juxtaposes Sketch against other Lewis compositions in which classical devices are more overtly employed, citing the “superiority” of the latter group in achieving the Third Stream goals of uniting jazz and European structural elements (Budds, 1978, p. 73-5). While his survey does begin with the claim that “a major concern of the third stream was to deliver jazz in the shape of European forms and to employ European compositional techniques” (Budds, 1978, p. 73), he fails to discuss the use of vernacular devices beyond that of improvisation, reducing the African-American voice to a singular trope and thereby allowing all composed elements to signal the presence of Western art music.

Such methodological approaches consolidated a stratified view of the Third Stream compositional process. Discussions of the genre from this perspective viewed the vernacular as present only during moments of improvisation and written elements as always indicating influence from outside the jazz realm. This division serves as the foundation for Lawrence Koch’s (1985) definition of “jazz composition” put forth in the Annual Review of Jazz Studies:

‘Jazz composition/arrangement’ seems a contradiction in terms; therefore it is necessary to attempt a definition. The examples that are used in this article, for instance, all meet the following criteria: the composed (and arranged portion of the music is at least equal in importance to the improvisation, and/or the improvisation is

presented in such a fashion so as to make it an integral part of the arrangement. To be sure, some improvisation is a necessary ingredient or else the term would be “jazz- influenced” composition/arrangement (Koch, 1985, p. 181).

The last sentence of the quote is revealing in terms of import placed on vernacular tropes. What the author seems to suggest is that once improvisation is stripped from a composition, other African-American musical devices lose their ability to drive the compositional process. It is a position that rightfully places improvisation as central to African-American expressive culture but one that marginalizes other tropes, such as pre-planned riffs and call-response figures, from their roles as fundamental structural elements. In turn, it holds outside influences as foundational when improvisation is not present. Such a reading of jazz composition is indebted to the compartmentalized view of the pan-European school and articulates the notion that entry into the realm of “jazz compositions” requires an audible balance between improvisation (jazz) and written music (composition).

More recent surveys of the Third Stream utilize this criteria of balance as a way of establishing distance between the genre and the jazz realm. This perspective is evident in Joyner’s (2000) comments on Third Stream formal design:

We are reminded repeatedly that the employment of elaborate formal design was the primary issue in the rise of third-stream music. But as form becomes more extensive, it also becomes more restrictive to rhythmic momentum (the groove) and the discretion of the improvising soloist to design a spontaneous dramatic shape (Joyner, 2000, p. 85).

Joyner sets improvisation and written music against each other in this quote and builds on Koch’s dichotomous understanding of jazz composition throughout his study by referring consistently to formal elements in European terms, going so far as to claim that “it is not beyond suspicion that Lewis’s motivation in using traditional formal models was as much to demonstrate his knowledge of these forms to the classical world as to seek a better type of

jazz” (Joyner, 2000, p. 79).6 According to Joyner, the use of these devices resulted in “complex, elongated, and unpredictable forms [that] pose[d] a distraction to the improvising musician,” subsequently inhibiting spontaneity and creativity (Joyner, 2000, p. 84). Lopes (2002) echoes Joyner’s criticism of written music, stating:

In viewing the classical tradition as the path to advancing jazz as a fine art form, cool jazz and classical jazz musicians emphasized form and harmony from this tradition and consequently also this tradition’s use of composition and arrangement. The result was the gradual reduction of jazz improvisation, ironically the very practice considered in jazz criticism as the defining practice of the jazz tradition (Lopes, 2002, p. 244).

Inherent in both of these assessments is the idea that jazz, at its core, is an improvisatory music and that minimizing improvisation causes the music to move away from its fundamental aesthetic. Yet it must be noted that not all African-American musical products are linked to jazz and if the Third Stream is viewed in the broader spectrum of African-American musical products, then an imperative for balance between improvisation and written music becomes less important (demonstrated aptly in Floyd’s (1995a) analysis of African-American orchestral compositions). It is surprising then to see such compartmentalized models used to exclude the Third Stream from the entirety of African-American expressive products in Floyd’s The Power of Black Music.

Floyd (1995a) becomes locked into this approach the moment he fails to engage with the historic underpinnings of the Third Stream movement. Like Owens (1976), Stuessy (1977) and Budds (1978), Floyd concerns himself mainly with a discussion of compositional devices, dismissing the Third Stream along the following lines:

The musicians of the cool and Third Stream schools tended to discard ring values, diluting the powerful expressions of Call-Response. An example of this dilution is the MJQ’s ineffective 1957 version of Parker’s “Now’s the Time,” in which, after a shaky

6 As will be discussed in Chapter Two, Lewis did state that one of his goals was to “strengthen” jazz with structure (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26) and actively sought to market his works to what Joyner refers to as the “classical world.” Yet it is also argued in Chapter Two that this approach may not have inhibited vernacular expression to the extent implied in the following quote. 40

start, the performers get into a cool groove but do not tell much of a story because of their too subtle treatment of the ring tropes they employ… For those who were emotionally and ideologically committed to the African-American side of the musical mix, many of the products of the cool/Third Stream trend were viewed either as vapid cultural irrelevances or as musical, social, and cultural threats to “real” black music (Floyd, 1995a, p. 167).

By separating the presence of Ring tropes from the context in which they are functioning however, Floyd utilizes the same cataloguing strategy that resulted in a requirement for balance between improvisation and written music in pan-European assessments of Third Stream music. Yet Floyd’s study is concerned with the greater body of African-American music, and where an argument might be made that improvisation is a necessary part of some African- American genres, a requirement that Ring tropes must audibly dominate every part of African- American music conflicts with the Signifyin(g) and “masking” strategies Floyd views as central to African-American musical development. In a telling inconsistency, while Floyd casts Still’s Afro-American Symphony in the context of embracing the uplift strategies of Harlem Renaissance leaders (Floyd, 1995a, p. 110), his discussion of the Third Stream genre is left un- contextualised, existing as part of a non-descript musical age.

Compounding this issue is the fact that generalizations regarding the breadth of John Lewis’ work are made throughout Floyd’s discussion of the Third Stream, excluding Lewis from African-American expressive culture in all instances. After detailing the MJQ’s Now’s the Time performance in the above quote, Floyd goes on to extrapolate that the entirety of the MJQ output evinces “spiritual vacuity” by way of a “paucity of ring tropes” and that the intent of this process was to make the music “respectable in ‘proper’ (that is white) social circles” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 167). In tandem with Floyd’s critique, Kelley (1997) points to a disrespect for “black musical traditions” in the Third Stream as legitimising its all-out exclusion from discussions of 1950s “Black Bohemia” (Kelley, 1997, p. 19). Like Floyd, Kelley neglects to look at Third Stream works in the context of their historic circumstances, allowing European analytical dominance put forth in assessments of the genre to guide discussion (Kelley, 1997, p. 19).

In summary, while the earlier assessments of Third Stream works by Owens (1976), Stuessy (1977) and Budds (1978) appear to have been part of the positivist legitimisation project initiated by Schuller (1958b; 1968) and Sargeant (1975), the assessments of Kelley (1997), Joyner (2000) and Lopes (2002) were all made in the wake of the Baker/Gates paradigm’s transition to the musical realm. Reluctance to utilize this theoretical perspective in the interpretation of Third Stream works may have stemmed from Floyd’s own departure from Afro-Modernist investigative methodology in his assessment of the genre. Ignoring the historical circumstances of Third Stream production, Floyd (1995a) falls back on compartmentalized views of the syncretic process and uphold notions regarding the necessity of “balance” in admitting works into the domain of African-American expressive culture. While Floyd does point to the recruitment of a “white” audience in his discussion of Third Stream compositional strategy, he does not connect this with the audience expansion requirements of the Signifyin(g) or “masking” tropes. It is left instead to stand as a mark of aggression against “real black music.” Ironically, it is Floyd’s insistence on reading historical circumstance in relation to the other works surveyed in his monograph that seems to provide the most compelling way forward in terms of challenging his statements regarding the Third Stream.

1.5 Afro-Modernist Models of Jazz Analysis Several recent jazz studies based on Baker and Gates’ theoretical framework provide useful models for such revision. This methodological shift, from the pan-European approach to Afro- Modernist assessment, has been facilitated in part by Ramsey’s (2003) expansion of the Afro- Modernist paradigm. Instead of portraying Afro-Modernism as a movement related solely to the Harlem Renaissance, Ramsey has argued that Bakers’ model is useful in interpreting a broad range of African-American musical styles (Ramsey, 2003, p. 115). Central to this position is the fact that institutionalised racism and classism can be seen to have worked against African- American economic and political uplift throughout the twentieth-century. Ramsey argues that the use of “masking” strategies in musical production across this time period provided African- Americans the unique opportunity to create a series of products that infiltrated hegemonic spaces while simultaneously showcasing unique cultural strengths (Ramsey, 2003, p. 117). Authors of the new critical school tend to use this point of arrival as their own point of departure, describing the presence of contrasting musical tropes in a variety of jazz works as

the persistence of Afro-Modernist uplift strategies carried out during the latter half of the twentieth-century.

Magee’s (2007) study of selected Miles Davis compositions provides several examples of “cosmopolitan” and “down-home” pairing with the aim of illuminating double-voiced compositional strategies utilized across Davis’ career. His main findings demonstrate that while Davis’ use of “cosmopolitan” features (a term not explicitly defined but inferred as the use of devices from outside the Ring) changed over the course of his life, a reliance on blues tropes persists throughout. For instance, while not explicitly connecting his analysis to Floyd’s concept of Call-Response, Magee describes how Davis’ use of flatted sevenths comments on a revision of the flat-third ring trope in a 1954 performance of “Blue ‘n’ Boogie”:

In “Blue ‘n’ Boogie” Davis reiterates a falling major-third figure (D-Bb) so insistently, across several choruses – and usually at prominent cadence points – as to suggest a deliberate avoidance of traditional blues references… Yet the solo is also chock full of familiar blues devices, like the fall to Ab (the blue-seventh) at the end of the first phrase of the form to prepare for the subdominant, as in Chorus 3 (m. 28), Chorus 4 (m. 39), and Chorus 8, where it appears a little “late,” on the downbeat of bar 5 (m. 89) (Magee, 2007, p. 15).

The flat seventh in this instance calls attention to the revision of the “blue” third, the consistent use of D as opposed to Db throughout the work. Magee’s interpretation of this choice is that Davis is utilizing both Ring elements and elements of “the other.” He describes the effect as alternating “between engagement and distance from blues melodic figures” (Magee, 2007, p. 15) and then goes on to points out a similar distance between the vernacular and “the other” in Davis’ harmonic language.

Magee examines Davis’ composition Sippin’ at Bells and finds that while much of the chordal content “owes much to Charlie Parker’s blues approach,” Davis’ work goes a “step further” (Magee, 2007, p. 10). He explains that this “can be heard in the process by which the two musicians link the pillar chords, tonic and subdominant, in the first five bars” of respective

blues compositions (Magee, 2007, p. 10). To illustrate this point, Magee provides the following chordal outline comparing the two works Sippin’ (Davis) and Blues for Alice (Parker) (figure 1.1).

Figure 1.1 Chord charts for Charlie Parker, “Blues for Alice” and Miles Davis, “Sippin’ at Bells” (Magee, 2007, p. 10) [Reset in Word].

Blues for Alice Fmaj7 Em7b5 A7b9 Dm7 G7 Cm7 F7

Sippin’ at Bells Fmaj7 Fm7 Bb7 Am7 Gm7 F#m7 B7

Blues for Alice Bb7 Bbm7 Eb7 Am7 D7 Abm7 Db7

Sippin’ at Bells Bb7 Bbm7 Eb7 Am7 D7 Abm7 Db7

Blues for Alice Gm7 C7 F Dm7 Gm7 C7

Sippin’ at Bells Gm7 C7 Dbm7 Gb7 Am7 Abm7 Gm7 C7

Magee describes Parker’s use of chords in this example as a musical “gesture” that had become “a trademark,” definitive of the “bebop blues” style (Magee, 2007, p. 10). Its salient features include beginning “on a major-seventh chord in an idiom whose most characteristic harmonic sonority is a major-minor seventh chord” and the move to the subdominant through “a series of ii-V chord substitutions” (Magee, 2007, p. 10). Davis in turn tropes this bebop blues convention by starting with a major-seventh chord and triggering the ii-V expectation characteristic of Parker’s approach through the pairing of Fm7 and Bb in the next bar. At this point however, he revises the bebop cliché, using two minor seventh chords in a row. Magee claims in this measure, “Davis suggests the pattern, but he omits the ‘fives’ (D7 and C7)” thus causing the work to remain “remarkable as much for the chords Davis left out as for the ones he put in” (Magee, 2007, p. 11). While Magee does not explain how this omission reflects the urban side of Afro-Modernism, he does make the claim that the title of the work “conjures hazy but suggestive images of gentility” appearing to “reinforce Davis’ effort to challenge social connotations of the blues” (Magee, 2007, pp. 11-2). If Davis’ omission is simply read as “otherness” and the title of the work is taken into account, then the pairing of blues conventions with Davis’ unconventional treatment of harmony appear to work in concert.

Explaining this disparity as a united and overarching strategy in Davis’ musical approach is the main goal of Magee’s paper. He states at the outset: “Of the dozens of blues pieces Davis performed and recorded through his half-century career, all can be heard as being charged with

the Afro-Modernist creative tension between down-home tradition and cosmopolitan artistry” (Magee, 2007, p. 9). Davis’ revision of established conventions like Parker’s bebop blues approach and the use of blue notes, convinces Magee that Davis was “perpetually ready to tap the blues, while reminding everyone within earshot that blues authenticity can belong to an upper-middle class African-American whose father never picked cotton” (Magee, 2007, p. 27). Magee’s description of this Afrological strategy in turn can be seen to have impacted other contemporary analysis of syncretic jazz works.

John Howland draws parallels between Duke Ellington’s concert works and Magee’s reading of Afro-Modernism in a 2007 article for The Musical Quarterly. Howland’s study focuses on Ellington’s 1930s and 1940s extended jazz compositions and finds “intermixed musical topics” functioning as an aggregate strategy for racial uplift. He explains this process in direct comparison to Magee’s work:

In a recent article, the jazz scholar Jeffrey Magee articulates how Miles Davis’s lifelong interest in the blues was part of a larger field of “Afrological” and “vernacular modernist” trends in mid-twentieth century African-American creative traditions… This is the very perspective that defined the racial uplift strategies of both Ellington’s and Johnson’s concert jazz efforts and Harlem entertainment… The impulse to “blend or juxtapose the earthy and the urbane, the down-home and the cosmopolitan” can be found at every level of the intellectual processes that created these works. Moreover, these compositions were inherently built to bridge – and revel in the juxtaposition of – “the simple and the sophisticated,” whether at the level of down- home blues in glorified concert dress, or through the act of taking Harlem nightclub entertainment into a venerated concert hall. In their recurrent Africa/Dixie/Harlem programs and intermixed musical topics, the compositions mentioned here and other works of this same vein by Johnson and Ellington fully embody North – South African-American cultural dialogues, and richly embed such matters within larger American discourses of class-status (high/middle/low) and race (spanning white, black, brown, and beige). The Afrological vernacular modernism of these works demands that interpreters locate artistic meaning and value in these rich, cross-cultural

exchanges and in their Afro-modernist blues-ing of music for the concert hall (Howland, 2007, pp. 361-2).

Howland’s argument (recently expanded in his book Ellington Uptown (2009)) points to acts of Signifyin(g) that go beyond the sonic elements of the work including the staging, product placement and marketing strategies of Ellington and Johnson. These extended parameters of the “musical work” provide a great deal of data for the interpretation of potential meanings behind the “compositional” process. Howland demonstrates the power of such an orientation by tracing Ellington’s transition from a composer of “production numbers” to “concert works” (Howland, 2007, p. 347).

He begins this discussion by pointing to the consistent use of the “Africa/Dixie/Harlem” program model in “many of the all-black shows of the 1920s” (Howland, 2007, p. 332). This programming was fundamentally concerned with demonstrating the revision of Ring tropes through a linear narrative in order to celebrate “the contemporary cultural riches of Harlem” as part of an evolutionary paradigm (Howland, 2007, p. 332). Not only was this model used to format the revue shows at the Cotton Club during Ellington’s tenure, Howland believes it served as a model for both the musical organization of Ellington’s later works as well as the conceptual model for Ellington’s move to the concert hall during the early 1940s. In relation to the sonic manifestation of the program, Howland writes:

Johnson, Ellington, and their peers regularly reused this sort of Harlemized African/jungle program in a variety of artistic projects that sought to celebrate the sophistication and racial heritage of modern African-Americans, and particularly Harlemites… the extant scripts/poems for Ellington’s opera Boola – which became the basis of the program for BB&B [Black, Brown and Beige (1943)] – include an extended opening section set in Africa with obligatory references to “jungle drums.” Though the later concert work dropped the African roots of the story, this programmatic connection of BB&B to musical theatre cannot be overemphasised (Howland, 2007, p. 355).

Howland’s reference to the program’s intent to “celebrate the sophistication and racial heritage of modern African-Americans” similarly underscores Ellington’s decision to pursue venues normally reserved for the performance of Western art music. According to Howland, the performance of Black Brown and Beige at Carnegie Hall in 1943 would have been viewed as a “sophisticated, musico-theatrical celebration[s] of Harlem’s near-mythical role as the cultural apex of modern African-American life” (Howland, 2007, p. 356). This type of celebration would have Signified on the traditions of Carnegie Hall by causing the venue to play a passive role in the African-American musical narrative rather than its conventional role as gatekeeper of the European canon. Howland, after all, argues that Ellington did not arrive at Carnegie Hall by conforming to European compositional processes but by Signifyin(g) upon these processes through the use of programmatic forms. The act of presenting these works in a location renowned for bestowing a very specific type of authority gives rise to an activist impression of Ellington’s compositional agenda.

Burrows (2007) analysis of Ellington’s Black Brown and Beige comes to similar conclusions regarding the political effect of the work but focuses more on the sonic aspects of Signifyin(g). His examination of the “Light” section of the Black movement demonstrates how Ellington is able to assemble various vernacular elements in a manner that “Signifies on the contrapuntal devices of classical music” (Burrows, 2007, p. 64). This compositional strategy involves lifting elements from the “African” sections of the programmatic works discussed by Howland and juxtaposing them against themes derived from African-American spirituals (example 1.1).

Example 1.1 Thematic counterpoint in ‘Light’ (Burrows, 2007, p. 64) [Reset in Finale].

In Burrows’ transcription, the polyphonic nature of “Light” is clear and his labelling of the origin of thematic material further illuminates the repetition strategies described by Schuller (1989). His interpretation of this data as Signifyin(g) discourse however results in a unique reading. Burrows explains his understanding of the music as follows:

There are two classes of motif in this example that seem to me to inhabit different worlds that represent differing forms of mask-play. The ‘Work Song’ motifs, which have previously been given their ‘jungle’ associations, represent a demonstration of Ellington’s ‘mastery of the mask’ whilst the fact that they are brought together with serious, spiritual and historical subject matter in a form that Signifies on the contrapuntal devices of classical music serves to deform this mastery into a form of what Baker describes as ‘phaneric’ display that advertises rather than conceals (Burrows, 2007, p. 64).

While Burrows does not mention Floyd’s concept of Call-Response in this instance, his description can readily be interpreted through its tenets. The “jungle” associations Burrows refers to have both timbral and repetitive characteristics typical of Ring practices. The repetition of the “Work Song” motif during the “Light” section affirms both the cyclic nature of African-American music and the “symphonic shape” of what Burrows refers to as “a well- argued first movement” (Burrows, 2007, p. 65). The use of these Ring tropes as a means of uniting the work while Signifyin(g) upon a European aesthetic links directly to Floyd’s discussion of Still’s Afro-American Symphony. Burrows describes the political motivation in this compositional process as follows:

Ellington, a trickster figure like the monkey in the stories, deliberately avoids being fixed or positioned according to musical category. By situating himself on the margins where he can slip between musical categories Ellington is able to set the musical value system against itself and create a space for the other behind the minstrel’s mask where he is able to critique the values of mid-twentieth-century American society and say things about race he could otherwise not say as a black man (Burrows, 2007, p. 69).

Here, Burrows points to a clear connection between the compositional structure of Ellington’s work and his politics. This type of conclusion, derived from a Signifyin(g) analysis, should not be surprising in that the method is clearly pre-disposed to yielding such results. However, it is worth repeating that applications of Gates’ theory need to be viewed in the context of the cultural work being undertaken by the researcher. In Burrows’ case, he claims to be reconciling disparities in Ellington’s work so that “we can deal with the apparent contradictions and complexities of this musical figure” in a way that “circumvents the tendency to treat the man and his music as pure products” (Burrows, 2007, p. 69). He is in effect problematising Ellington from an Afrological perspective in order to expand the parameters of debate. The perceived failure of Black Brown and Beige to engage with vernacular elements put forth by John Hammond and Spike Hughes (Tucker, 1993, pp. 118-9) can now be addressed through a more comprehensive understanding of how vernacular tropes are used in African-American musical products.

The constant revision of Baker’s “masking” concept and Gates’ theory of Signifyin(g) over the past twenty years has bolstered the Afrological side of African-American music discourse. This trend can be seen as a response to the potentially misleading findings of the pan-European school and it has been useful in providing an alternative understanding of syncretic jazz works. While subjects and methodologies vary, there appear to be four key components to convincing investigations in the new critical school. They can be summarised as follows:

1. Investigations begin with a discussion of long held views on the works that are to be assessed. 2. Investigators detail the particular historic setting in which the works were created, taking into account social, political and economic factors. 3. Investigators collect “raw” musical data in the form of transcriptions, descriptive charts or sound recordings. 4. Investigators accept that African-American rhetorical strategies may play some part in connecting this data with what DeVeaux calls “issues of historical particularity” (DeVeaux, 1991, p. 553).

Following the steps detailed above, this chapter has sought to describe the current state of play in relation to Third Stream research. Chapter Two in turn will begin to unravel the particular historic circumstances surrounding the emergence of the Third Stream genre, demonstrating how the demise of big bands and the failure of bebop to establish a market place large enough

to support the entirety of the jazz industry at the end of the 1940s led to a rise in the production of syncretic works. As composers of these works struggled to rebuild the jazz market from a core aesthetic they frequently cited as being African-American, they became engaged in the Afro-Modernist paradigm. Decoding their works accordingly will therefore challenge their dismissal from African-American expressive culture by Afro-Modernists Floyd (1995a) and Kelley (1997).

Chapter 2 Cultural Context and Afro-Modernist Reading of Selected 1950s Syncretic Jazz Composition

As the works of Burrows (2007) and Howland (2007; 2009) indicate, convincing Afro- Modernist readings of jazz compositional development require investigations into moments of “historical particularity” (DeVeaux, 1991, p. 553). Ironically such an approach at first appears to tie together incompatible ideas. The most vocal advocate of historically specific investigations into jazz, Scott DeVeaux, pits himself against champions of universal tropes in the opening pages of his work The Birth of Bebop (1997), claiming that too much focus has been given in jazz history to “lofty abstractions” and that a shift to the study of “quirky contingencies,” by way of economics, is necessary in order to establish a more accurate historical reading of the music’s development (DeVeaux, 1997, p. 28). Yet DeVeaux’s cataloguing of economic strategies utilized by bebop artists frequently aligns with the “masking” and Signifyin(g) strategies of Afro-Modernism outlined in Chapter One. This is particularly evident in his explanation of how beboppers circumvented “lower-class” stigmatisation in the popular press “by fusing traditional blues gestures with a speeded-up double-time feeling” and by “couching their language in chromatic dissonance” in order to make a profit in a “white-controlled culture industry” (DeVeaux, 1997, p. 343-6). Evident in this example is that while strategies for economic advancement and racial uplift may not always align, they are far from being diametrically opposed. Of specific relevance to this thesis is the prevalence of their alignment in projects undertaken to maintain the economic viability of jazz in the wake of the 1940s big band decline.

Despite a brief surge in big band performance following World War II, Lopes (2002) indicates that wanning demand for swing and a shift to singers as the propagators of popular music ended the relationship between jazz and the popular music industry by the dawn of the 1950s. (Lopes, 2002, p. 225). As DeVeaux (1997) articulates, the bebop movement was an early response to this market shift and reaction to the new chromatic language was effective in establishing jazz as an autonomous genre, separate from the popular realm. Lopes (2002) concurs, describing how the sonic elements of bebop positioned jazz “outside the mainstream of American music,” reconceptualising it in the public eye as an art music replete with its own base of “hipster” supporters (Lopes, 2002, p. 213). Yet despite this new cultural status, the

movement was not able to reconstruct a workspace comparable to the heights of the Swing Era and by the early 1950s, jazz artists were once again forced to look for alternative paths towards financial stability.

Three broad performance options seemed to have been considered at this point. The first was for jazz musicians to continue down the path of bebop, utilizing increasingly smaller ensembles and capitalizing on individual reputation in the hope of cornering the “hipster” market. Dizzy Gillespie’s move from an ensemble of seventeen members in 1949 to a sextet in 1951 and a quintet in 1953, all marketed under his name, provides just one example of an artist utilizing this approach. The second option was to move the jazz genre back towards popular music by embracing the Rhythm and Blues [R&B] style: “a kind of shuffle-boogie… that employed both swing and blues elements” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 143). Initially, there was a great deal of interaction between the jazz and R&B worlds. Floyd (1995a) points to Paul Williams 1949 revision of Charlie Parker’s 1944 hit Now’s The Time as evidence of dialogue between the genres and Gennari (2006) writes of jazz saxophonist John Coltrane playing R&B gigs during his tenure at the Granoff School of Music in Philadelphia (Gennari, 2006, p. 72). Yet as DeVeaux indicates, the success of R&B undermined the intellectual work of the bebop movement, further reducing jazz audiences and placing bebop in a “precarious position on the margins of the business as an art music without portfolio” (DeVeaux, 1997, p. 301). A third option was therefore required in which both the canon of jazz-art-music and the audience for jazz-art-music could be expanded. Many artists believed this could be accomplished by fusing bebop chromaticism, African-American vernacular devices, and sonic effects derived from European compositional conventions. Initially this approach was labelled “Cool” but variation within the camp would lead to what is currently referred to as the Third Stream.

In the following section I will argue that an examination of the manner in which Cool and Third Stream artists masked African-American expressive tropes in order to expand both the parameters of the jazz world as well as their own economic power reveals the persistence of Afro-Modernist strategies throughout the 1950s. Central to this approach was the relocation of jazz into spaces where artists could find and win over new supporters. In the early 1950s, advances in jazz tertiary education opened up American universities to such endeavours and by the mid 1950s, jazz artists were creating performance spaces themselves where vernacular jazz

tropes could be brought to the uninitiated through the guise of “modern music.” This marketing necessarily glossed over vernacular presence and while some works presented in these forums failed to be decoded as African-American texts, many continued to embrace vernacular devices as fundamental elements of design.

2.1 Afro-Modernist Roots of 1950s “Modern” Jazz While the masking strategies of bebop played a crucial role in establishing jazz as an art-music, they were by no means the only approach utilized to this end during the 1940s. As demand for swing bands decreased, those with continued access to large ensembles sought diverse ways of capitalizing on their personnel in order to remain economically viable. Many of these projects pursued a two-tiered promotional approach in which artists endeavoured to both sustain existing support while simultaneously recruiting uninitiated patrons. In terms of the music, this strategy frequently manifested as the fusion of classical techniques learned by big band arrangers in tertiary education programs (Van de Leur, 2001, p. 26) with elements of African- American vernacular music endemic to jazz. By the dawn of the 1950s the plurality of strategies functioning broadly under this approach would do much in the way of building acceptance of “modern” jazz sounds but would fail to find a clear delivery method through which the economic possibilities of the project could be realised.

The syncretic works of Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn stand in partial contrast to this overall trend. While many of their overt syncretic products were initially received with some ambiguity, the vast majority of their efforts contributed to the strength of the Ellington enterprise over the course of the 1940s. And even though dressing vernacular tropes in European garb met with criticism from some Ellington supporters, noted plainly in Ulanov’s account of Ellington’s Carnegie Hall debut (Ulanov, [1946] 1975, p. 253), the compositional approach ensured access to similar venues and provided a means of leading a Western art music audience into an appreciation of African-American vernacular music.

Such a strategy is apparent in the works performed at the January 23, 1943 Carnegie Hall concert. While the reception of the Ellington work Black Brown and Beige has already been given considerable attention in the academic press (DeVeaux, 1993; Howland, 2009), less focus has been placed on the syncretic work Dirge written by Strayhorn and performed on the same date.

Van de Leur identifies intense chromaticism as a constant theme in Strayhorn’s writing, linking it in some cases to Ernö Lendvai’s (1971) axis system (Van de Leur, 2002, p. 28) and in others to the use of chords as discrete colouristic units typical of French impressionism (Van de Leur, 2001, p. 22). This penchant for chromaticism can be seen to fuse with the vernacular in Dirge (1943) through the pairing of “dissonant chords” with a “free-flowing trombone melody… that draws on the blues scale” (Van de Leur, 2002, p. 90). Van de Leur cites Ulanov’s review of the work as evidence of initial confusion surrounding its treatment of jazz elements, pointing to the critic’s comments of the work sounding “more like Milhaud and the latter-day Stravinsky than Ellington” (Ulanov, 1946, p. 253). Yet Ring tropes persist and an examination of the recording reveals that smears up to the flatted third and fifth scale degrees manifest frequently throughout the trombone solo. Whether specified by Strayhorn or left up to the performer, the blues oriented melodic line begs this interpretation.

The pairing of this blues-derived melody against Strayhorn’s dissonant chords takes on an Afro-Modernist meaning when framed in the historic context of the work’s promotion. Ellington was quick to locate Strayhorn’s piece within the domain of African-American music, introducing it during the performance as the work of “a young man who has really contributed so much to our recently acquired music” [italics added] (Ellington, 1943). Following its performance, and that of a second Strayhorn piece, Stomp (which Van de Leur identifies as the already recorded Johnny Come Lately (1942)), Ellington set out again to make sure the audience understood Strayhorn, as an artist, was grounded in African-American musical practice, claiming:

We feel that these two numbers selected in the Strayhorn group are somewhat related. As we find it in the picture of the early jazz days, when a jazz band, or rather a small band, was picked to play at a funeral, they played the dirge – something like that – and then on their way back from the funeral we find the dirge resembling something like Strayhorn’s Stomp (Ellington, 1943).

The promotion of Strayhorn’s work as part of African-American expressive culture in this quote indicated a desire to shift the sonic parameters of what could be considered African- American music in the early 1940s. This approach allowed Ellington to recruit support for his

music, and jazz in general, by drawing in patrons of Western art music by way of sonorities and compositional devices familiar to that demographic. As the January 23rd performance led to a series of more or less regular appearances at Carnegie Hall over the following eight years (Howland, 2009, p. 247), the goals of recruitment and financial success embedded in Ellington’s approach appear in part to have been realized through this process.

Arrangements performed by the Claude Thornhill band during the late 1940s utilized a similar compositional strategy, albeit towards less effective ends. While Thornhill’s arranger, Gil Evans, was not trained in Western art music composition, his work for the ensemble incorporated the dissonance of bebop and its related art music connotations, as outlined by DeVeaux (1997) and Lopes (2002). The fusion of this sonic element with Thornhill’s expanded ensemble, a big band containing French horns and tuba, distinguished the group from big band predecessors like Benny Goodman’s. Yet vernacular elements were hardly lost. Improvisation played a key role in works for the group, occasionally echoing back to the polyphonic improvisation of Hot jazz. This is apparent in the improvised call and response between tenor saxophonist Mickey Folus and clarinettist Danny Polo on the 1948 recording of Robbin’s Nest. Polo’s first improvisatory chorus is accompanied by bass, piano and drums. The brass then enter with backings during the second chorus and Folus can be heard to play in counterpoint to Polo’s improvisation. The third chorus, led by Folus, involves constant reiterations, or echoes by Polo, uniting the two in dialogue and providing evidence of the call and response trope identified by Stuckey (1987) as a key Ring practice.

Thornhill’s indeterminate approach to marketing however hampered the success of his ensemble. Avoiding both popular music alignment and what Evans refers to as “concert orchestra” alignment (Crosby, 1971, p. 9), Thornhill played an increasingly marginalised role in the 1940s jazz world. Although he produced several “sweet” music recordings in the mid 1940s, Thornhill frequently chose to perform his more modern works in dancehalls, “baffle[ing] the dancers” who had come to hear the commercial ballads (Crease, 2002, p. 156). Ambiguity regarding the framing of these modern works is identified as having been a key barrier to economic success (Crosby, 1971; Van de Leur, 2001). Indeed, the demographic through which Thornhill sought financial reward was not one in which “modern” effects would have held a good deal of interest. While a degree of vernacular promotion did occur

through Thornhill’s “sweet” music, these works were frequently left out of performances in which they would have been embraced, impeding the recruitment aspect of the Signifyin(g) process. Still, Thornhill’s sonic concept remains important in a discussion of 1950s Afro- Modernism, as Miles Davis would employ it as part of his own uplift strategy in collaboration with Thornhill arrangers during the late 1940s.

The Birth of the Cool album released in 1957 is comprised of recordings made between 1948 and 1950 and is conventionally held to have emerged from group discussions on the future of jazz hosted by Gil Evans and Miles Davis at Evans’ New York apartment. While most historical accounts depict these sessions as debates over aesthetics, it is fair to say a degree of professional networking and financial problem solving were at play as well. Both Evans and apartment regular Gerry Mulligan spent time on the Thornhill payroll in the late 1940s and the band’s financial instability had long undermined their ability to earn steady wages. In March of 1947, Thornhill was forced to disband and then hire back musicians at reduced rates in order to cover expenses for performances at the Glen Island Casino (‘Thornhill Ork on 3-Week Vacation,’ 1947, p. 1). A year later, he disbanded for a two month “vacation,” leaving his musicians without pay while he worked on new compositions. (‘Claude Thornhill to Disband Ork,’ 1948, p. 1). Davis, the project organizer, faced equally insecure economic circumstances. Personality conflicts with his 1948 partner, Charlie Parker, foreshadowed a split between the two (Davis, 1989, p. 115) and his reputation had not yet lead to a leadership position on a commercial recording. In addition, his improvisatory style remained quite similar to his bebop peers. By collaborating with Mulligan and Evans on arrangements but remaining the lead improvisatory voice, Davis was able to negotiate a sonic space that set him apart from the bebop realm while not requiring the development of a new improvisatory style. In turn, Mulligan and Evans were able to bridge an employment gap.

Such financial and professional benefits were not without their artistic frustrations. Tension between a modernist drive for structure and the promotion of vernacular elements came to typify arguments between Davis and his arrangers. In the end, membership in the latter group expanded to include John Lewis and an additional Thornhill staffer, Johnny Carisi. Friction between the groups was strongest in relation to the use and extent of improvisation. Mulligan believed that the new style of jazz did not lend itself to the extensive soloing of the bebop era.

He felt extended solos caused “the composed parts [to] lose their continuity... their connection with each other” (Mulligan, 1995, p. 16) and that this negatively affected the structural innovations of the music. Davis, in turn, remained focused on extended improvisation during the workshop period of the project, improvising for “more and more choruses” in performances of the arrangements at the Royal Roost (Mulligan, 1995, p. 16). Mulligan recalled John Lewis’ shared frustration with this approach, stating “Lewis used to get really mad at him because he wouldn’t assume the responsibility and wouldn’t consider the band - because the band was a unique thing. It’s not like going into the club with a sextet” (Mulligan, 1995, p. 16).

The limits of the 78-rpm recordings in part forced a compromise between emphasis on structure and emphasis on improvisation. The two singles immediately released from this collaboration, Move (1949) and Budo (1949), both arranged by Lewis, are under three minutes in length and contain only one 32-measure chorus by Davis each. The Royal Roost recordings of Move in contrast are longer, with Davis soloing for three choruses on both the September 4, 1948 and September 18, 1948 club dates.7 Arrangements, however, are not lost in these club recordings. To the contrary, written passages come across as far more rehearsed than any of the improvisations. Unease with the chord changes on Move is apparent in trombonist Mike Zwerln’s September 4th performance and saxophonist Lee Konitz’s September 18th performance but both recordings demonstrate close to perfect execution of the head and composed coda. Importantly, it was these composed sections that held the most immediate repercussions for Davis as a professional musician.

Presentation of the Birth of the Cool arrangements at the Royal Roost can be clearly linked to Davis’ first leadership contract. According to Crease (2002), Capitol had been searching for a way to develop its jazz resources but held a general “antipathy” towards the bebop style (Crease, 2002, p. 160). Since its formation in 1942, the label had made the bulk of its money by recording popular vocalists and had largely focused on building audiences outside “race music” demographics (Ramsey, 2003, p. 97). Yet the label’s success with Stan Kenton between 1943 and 1947 indicated the potential for engagement with jazz audiences, albeit through a less vernacular style, and Davis’ embrace of Thornhill-sounding syncretism provided Capitol a

7 On the September 4th broadcast, Davis trades fours with drummer Max Roach over his last two choruses. On the September 18th broadcast, this trading occurs only during the first half of the third chorus, at which point Roach plays the chorus out. 57

means of expanding the momentum they had built with Kenton while entering the bebop market at the same time.

Despite the immediate professional benefits for Davis, from a financial perspective, the project was a failure. Crease writes:

After the Royal Roost engagement, the Nonet had no gigs and, as the fall of 1948 wore on, no prospects of any kind. Meanwhile, the Thornhill band started up again and reclaimed some of its personnel, while John Lewis and other Nonet musicians and colleagues landed other gigs… Equally remarkable was the fact that these recordings… sold dismally when initially released as singles (Crease, 2002, p. 160).

The responsibility for a lack of follow-up gigs must at least partially lie with Davis. Like Thornhill, Davis had embraced an ambiguous style of promotion. He chose the Royal Roost as a venue because he had worked there throughout 1948 with Tad Dameron and because he had established some credibility with the management (Crease, 2002, p. 158). Yet the Royal Roost was synonymous with the promotion of bebop, drawing heavily from bebop artists in its line- up and broadcasting their performances live on Friday nights (Crease, 2002, p. 158). This near exclusive focus had even garnered the venue the nickname “Metropolitan Bopera House” (Crease, 2002, p. 158). The audiences at the Royal Roost, the same that had embraced Davis as part of Parker and Dameron’s group, were not part of the demographic that needed to be drawn into jazz through new twists in the presentation of vernacular elements. This new demographic existed outside the jazz club scene.

Yet Capitol’s marketing of the Birth of the Cool singles failed to reach beyond the confines of Davis’ established audience. Using the credit line “Miles Davis and His Orchestra” on the singles Move and Budo, Capitol neglected to push the “arrangement” focus of the recordings, an approach that may have resulted in better alignment with the Stan Kenton audience already tapped by the label. The 1950 release of the nonet’s Venus de Milo recording does evince a slight change in approach, with Mulligan given credit as arranger before Davis and Orchestra, but the shift seems to have come too late. The earlier singles had already been critically received as Capitol’s first bebop recordings (“Record Review: Miles Davis,” 1949a, p. 14;

“Record Review: Miles Davis,” 1949b, p. 14; “Record Review: Miles Davis,” 1949c, p. 15) and their arrangements would not be given considerable focus until the 1957 release of the Birth of the Cool album (Hentoff, 1957b, p. 15).

This failure stands in contrast to Ellington’s success and can be best understood as the result of poor venue choice and ambiguous promotional vision. Like Thornhill, Davis attempted to engage a new audience by way of sound alone but by remaining locked into established jazz domains, put the onus of expansion on those uninitiated. In other words, the success of this strategy relied on the curiosity of a demographic located outside the Royal Roost, a group Davis made little effort to reach. Ellington, on the other hand, sought out the uninitiated within their own space, recruiting outsiders through sonorities familiar to them while simultaneously exposing them to African-American vernacular tropes. Familiarity with Ellington’s success, and Davis and Thornhill’s failures, would drive future jazz artists to pursue syncretic projects in venues outside the jazz realm as they searched for economic security.

2.2 Expanding the Jazz Market: Jazz Goes to College While the concert hall was an obvious venue choice in this regard a decade earlier, by the late 1940s, the concept of the jazz concert had become more or less normalized. Eddie Ronan illuminates this shift in a 1947 issue of Down Beat:

With big band business still in a hazardous state, many sidemen today are turning to the concert hall to keep in cakes and drapes. More jazz concerts are being planned or held here at the present time than at any other era of the biz. And local sidemen are enjoying them financially as well as musically. It’s a chance to keep their wallets out of an anemic condition and their lips in form at the same time (Ronan, 1947, p. 1)

The concerts Ronan cites as evidence include the Jazz at the Philharmonic tours produced by Norman Granz and the Eddie Condon series of concerts performed at Carnegie Hall. Other examples would include the Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie Carnegie Hall debuts in 1947 and the bebop heavy tribute to Charlie Parker after his death in 1955. New spaces were therefore required in order to tap a truly fresh market. Advances in tertiary jazz education in

the late 1940s and early 1950s would make the college campus a receptive domain for this expansion.

The introduction of jazz lectures into American universities very pointedly foreshadowed the pan-European approach to jazz scholarship discussed in Chapter One. Central to this orientation was an acceptance of linear jazz evolution as championed by jazz pedagogue Marshall Stearns. Stearns earned a PhD in English at Yale in 1942 and began promoting the formation of university jazz clubs as a Cornell University faculty member in 1947. The “Cornell Rhythm Club” was the first of these, instituting a concert/lecture series overseen by Stearns along with projects cataloguing old periodicals and rare records (‘Stearns Starts Club,’ 1947, p. 4). Other early projects with Stearns at the head included the 1950s courses “Perspectives in Jazz” and “Giants in Jazz” delivered at New York University (‘NYU to Conduct Course on Jazz,’ 1950, p.1; ‘Jazz Course at NYU,’ 1950, p. 1) and the now well- known roundtable discussions at Music Inn in Lennox Massachusetts, beginning in 1951. Each of these projects conceived of jazz as an evolving music in which stylistic shifts revolved around the fusion of established conventions and new compositional devices. As Gennari (2006) indicates, the evolutionary narrative of these lectures was often well received by participants active in jazz performance, demonstrating for many both the usability of the past and an impetus on future invention (Gennari, 2006, p. 217).

Acceptance of the evolutionary model in universities challenged definitions of authenticity tied to early performance practice (Lopes, 2002, p. 159) and helped solidify a modernist theoretical perspective regarding the music in academic circles. It must be noted that while Stearns was at the forefront of this movement, he was not the only advocate working within the modernist paradigm. John Lucas’ series of talks delivered at Carleton College in 1948 evince a similar approach, tracing the development of jazz through five, one hour lecture/music sharing programs, covering “Folk song,” “Blues,” “Ragtime,” “Jazz,” and “Swing” periods (Hoefer, 1948, p. 11). Chicago promoter Joe Segal’s 1951 lecture comparing Dixie and modern groups at Roosevelt College again put forth an evolutionary narrative (‘Tristano Returns to Chi,’ 1951, p. 6). Further evidence can be found in a 1952 Union College series featuring “dixie” performances by Rex Steward and “modern” performance by Billy Taylor (‘Jazz Experiment,’ 1952, p. 5). By ending with a discussion of “modern” jazz, these lecture/concerts legitimized

syncretism as a key element of the jazz tradition and primed college audiences for the acceptance of new jazz products.

Yet like initial entry into the concert hall, access to these venues required a circumvention of perceptions of jazz as a musical practice linked to deviant behaviour. As Lopes (2002) writes, the jazz deviance trope, “whether romantic or derogatory,” was well entrenched in the popular imagination by the 1940s (Lopes, 2002, p. 145). As a barrier to university entrance, the ramifications of this stereotype are evident in the example of the University of Kentucky’s 1951 ban on jazz music. In laying out their reasoning, the University issued the following statement:

A story on the front page of The Leader of Feb. 19 might give the erroneous impression that the music department of the university has been won over by the advocates of jazz or bop and is encouraging wider and more generous acceptance in cultural circles of this strange malady… ‘Jazz’ music has no part in the university program… It is [the university’s] duty… to attempt to elevate the tastes of its students and the people of the commonwealth… No member of the music faculty plays in any ‘jazz’ band or has ever played in any bar or orchestra. Furthermore, the university has never approved the assembling of its students in any taproom or bar in this or other cities (‘Jazz is Barred,’ 1951, pg. 16).

Interestingly, the University of Kentucky ban seemed targeted at the type of jazz played in clubs and pubs as opposed to the style performed in dance halls and hotel ballrooms. The link between jazz and alcohol is mentioned twice at the end of the passage and in both instances it is framed as an almost integral part of jazz culture. This is only a slightly veiled dig at the bebop genre, as jazz in the form of swing had long ago moved from the “taproom” into more morally sound venues, evident in its frequent use at college dances throughout the 1940s and 1950s (‘School Dance Contest,’ 1953, p. 1). The deviance associated with bebop on the other hand kept permutations of jazz associated with African-American performers from expanding beyond established domains, despite its art music status. Eric Porter (2002) describes the irony of this period as follows:

Even as the practitioners of bebop were cast as artists and intellectuals, they could still be objects of the primitivist fascination that had long characterized the jazz discourse. The perception of musicians as social deviants was by no means inconsistent with the construction of jazz as avante-garde expression… Ronald Radano discusses the development of a “primitive/intellectual homology” used to comprehend the character of black jazz musicians in the post-war United States. White observers frequently saw “contrasting images of respectability and degeneracy, of noble romanticism and black bestiality” as they sought to understand the jazz artist (Porter, 2002, p. 92).

As Porter indicates, despite the art music status of bebop, the deviance associated with its practitioners impeded its expansion. As a result, performance priority was given in tertiary settings to either white dominated jazz genres such as swing, or less often, simply to white jazz modernists.8

Two early examples of this expansion, Stan Kenton’s performance at the University of Minnesota in 1951 and Lennie Tristano’s performance at Brandeis University in 1952, were delivered as part of performance/lectures similar to the Stearns model (‘Kenton Lectures,’ 1951, p. 7; ‘Brandeis Arts,’ 1952, p. 5). Other performances shed the lecturing component but remained largely focused on the presentation of “modern” pieces. Chet Baker’s appearance at an inaugural University of California Los Angeles jazz concert in 1954 (‘A New Approach,’ 1954, p. 12) and the MJQ’s performance at Oberlin College in 1955 (‘MJQ to Storyville,’ 1955, p. 6) are indicative of this later approach.9 Yet no jazz musician capitalized more effectively on this new space than pianist Dave Brubeck.

During the early 1950s, Brubeck and four members of his octet toured college campuses extensively throughout the United States. By his own recollection, the group played up to 90 colleges per four-month tour, building up a list of impressive venues that eventually included

8 Dizzy Gillespie’s 1947 performance at Cornell University stands in contrast to this trend. His premier at Carnegie Hall in the same year and Stearns’ creation of the Rhythm Club at Cornell should be taken into account in viewing this event in the overall context of venue access. 9 The MJQ’s entirely African-American racial composition stands in contrast to the trend identified above and will be contextualized as part of a perception of “whiteness” discussed in Chapter Three. 62

the University of California-Berkeley and Oberlin College (Garcia, 2001, p. 39). Stylistically, the quartet sound was well suited to the university campus. Like Davis’ Birth of the Cool recordings, the group was able to “mask” improvisation and vernacular rhythmic effects with composed arrangements. Gioia’s (1992) description of Brubeck’s style in the early 1950s details the variety of effects employed in this regard:

Many of his devices would become standard Brubeck fare in later years, but in 1949 few jazz fans were conversant with compositional techniques such as polytonality, unexpected modulations from major to minor (listen to “Blue Moon,” where bassist Ron Crotty holds on to the original changes while Brubeck’s harmonies take off into the stratosphere); the jolting switch from twentieth-century to eighteenth-century harmony at the close of “Indiana”; the rumbling, dissonant block chords that transformed “Laura” and “Tea for Two” into biting Bartókian vignettes (Gioia, 1992, p. 86).

This list of devices is then tied inextricably to the group’s reliance on a repetitive, syncopated “ground beat,” a device Gioia locates in the African-American realm. He writes:

The group’s sense of ground rhythm owes more to Basie and McShann than it does to Bartók and Milhaud… the band’s rhythmic experimentations, at their best, were often superimposed on this steady ground beat rather than replacements for it… It was perhaps the underlying rhythmic conservatism of his music that allowed Brubeck to incorporate elements of modernism into his work without alienating – indeed while attracting – a large audience (Gioia, 1992, p. 91).

As Gioia indicates, this pairing of tropes worked to Brubeck’s financial advantage as well as to the benefit of vernacular dissemination. Not only was his band allowed access to college campuses, his brand of modern jazz sold well in these venues. The college tours led to his contract with Columbia in 1954 and his first album for the label was compiled from recordings of his 1953 Oberlin performance, released as Jazz Goes To College. Down Beat subsequently reported:

Dave Brubeck’s quartet will henceforth play only a limited number of club dates in the east… [his] main concentration… will be on college and other concerts because of unprecedented demand for his quartet on campuses throughout the country, and also because Brubeck feels that the college audience has been vitally important in his popularity (‘Brubeck Dave is Campus Fave,’ 1954, p. 1).

As indicated here, Brubeck’s financial success could not have been achieved without access to college campuses, which in turn, seems to have benefited from his syncretic approach to jazz composition.

A link between Brubeck’s compositional strategy and Afro-Modernism can be made when his promotional strategy is contextualized within his own comments regarding compositional intent. Admittedly, as an Afro-Modernist, Brubeck is a potentially problematic figure. His tertiary training in Western art music at the University of the Pacific and his association with Darius Milhaud at Mills College initially paint him as operating outside African-American expressive culture (along with his status as a white musician). Yet Brubeck’s comments on compositional approach during the early 1950s champion the African-American origins of his music. The degree of Brubeck’s cultural orientation, whether towards Western art music or African-American vernacular music, may never be knowable (if such a thing is knowable with any musician), but certainly a desire to work from an African-American foundation and to promote its core elements is made clear in his early statements to interviewers. Take for example his description of the future of American music composition cited below:

Since jazz is not provincial, regional, nor chauvinistic, but as much an expression of our people as our language, it is the natural idiom for the American composer. I firmly believe that the composer who will most successfully typify America will have been born into jazz, will have absorbed it in his early years unconsciously, and will probably be an active participant in shaping its future course (Brubeck, 1950, p. 18).

Brubeck’s focus on uniting American culture with jazz culture in this statement is at odds with Gates’ (1988) and Floyd’s (1995a) pan-African nationalistic readings of African-American cultural products but nonetheless demonstrates a personal connection to the processes driving

African-American music. While Brubeck strips jazz of African-American ownership in this passage, he does not fully move it into the “white” or European musical realm. Instead he chooses to realign it as a uniquely American/multi-racial phenomenon. This context allows Brubeck to put forth the argument that the promotion of jazz vernacular elements is in fact a promotion of core American musical elements:

Most of the contemporary composers, including most of the 12-tone system writers, are getting too far from the roots of our culture. And for American composers, our roots should be in jazz (Hentoff, 1954c, p. 2).

Brubeck works from these roots most overtly through his use of rhythm or what Gioia refers to as his reliance on the “ground beat.” Devices such as chromatic harmonisations, modal shifting, polytonality and polyrhythm are then added on top of this foundation. This combination of elements, designed to engage a new market while holding central the tenets of vernacular jazz rhythm, function to the same Afro-Modernist ends as Ellington, Strayhorn, and Davis’ Signifyin(g) projects. To exclude Brubeck from this paradigm based on perceptions of his outsider status ignores both his familiarity with and facility over the Signifyin(g) process.

Such processes have been discussed thus far under the broad banner of modernism because they evince a drive to incorporate outside structures into a vernacular idiom. It is the context of their promotion in contrast that causes them to function as Afro-Modernist products. Yet these projects are more often subsumed under the “Cool” label (Gioia, 1992; Lopes, 2002; Meadows, 2003), the definitions of which mirror in technical terms but not in intent the syncretic masking processes discussed above. Lopes for example defines “Cool” as “a reserved soft version of the swing ensemble with influences from bop and European classical harmony and timbre used by progressive big bands” (Lopes, 2002, p. 243). Meadows in turn summarises the musical facets of the genre as an “emphasis on written arrangements, interesting orchestrations, melodic counterpoint, less use of higher ranges on melodic instruments, use of conjunct melodies and straight tone qualities, and a preference for ballads” (Meadows, 2003, p. 262). While these two definitions are certainly accurate as general descriptions, they evince a tendency to avoid discussion of stylistic particularities, such as Brubeck’s use of the “ground- beat” and Davis’ emphasis on improvisation. As demonstrated thus far, the presence of these

vernacular elements takes on increasing import when each work is contextualised in terms of uplift, both economic and cultural.

A tendency to ignore vernacular elements is even more prevalent in discussion of works labelled “Third Stream.” While most surveys of jazz history locate the Third Stream as an extension of the Cool style (Joyner, 2000; Lopes, 2002; Meadows, 2003), the difference between the two is far murkier than their separate labels would suggest. Both approaches can be seen to have flourished in tandem during the 1950s and membership to either camp was fluid, with many artists garnering both labels at some point in their career. Indeed, to a large extent, division between the Cool and Third Stream resulted from retrospective parameters placed on musical works after their performance. These assessments tended to group works written for large ensembles, especially those utilizing symphony orchestras, under the banner Third Stream while small ensemble works fusing jazz and European conventions were referred to as Cool. This problematic labelling is discussed further in Chapter Four but is introduced here in order to argue that to a large extent, the promotion of works utilizing both Western art music and African-American vernacular tropes mirrored the drive of modernists like Dave Brubeck to expand the jazz audience. Yet this latter group would turn more directly to the pursuit of Western art music patrons.

2.3 Expanding the Jazz Market: The Creation of “Modern” Music Venues Composer/bassist Charles Mingus articulated a strategy of syncretism aimed at expanding the parameters of his music’s appeal in a letter to Down Beat published in June of 1951. Ellaborating on comments from an earlier Down Beat interview, Mingus wrote of learning from “every score of the great composers, old and modern,” and of the practicality in viewing jazz and classical streams as “all one music” (Gleason, 1951, p. 7). Such an orientation, he assumed, would result in wider appeal for his own projects. As Eric Porter writes in reflection: “He was convinced that the lines between classical music and jazz were not immutable, and he saw composition as a means of moving outside the marketing categories imposed upon jazz” (Porter, 2002, p. 105). Yet Mingus did not view this approach as an abandonment of the vernacular. To the contrary, Porter (2002) indicates Mingus’ mid 1950s works utilized this approach as a means to an end regarding the promotion of African-American musical elements. By casting the “rhythmic drive” and “blues tonalities” of the Ring within composed

forms, Mingus was able to both promote vernacular tropes as well as expand his commercial reach beyond the existing parameters of the jazz market (Porter, 2002, p. 117). His concerts of “modern jazz composition” presented throughout New York in the mid 1950s demonstrate the centrality of marketing and choice of venue in achieving these goals.

Unable to enter the college market as directly as white modernists, Mingus sought to build hybrid spaces for his music on the foundation of established jazz domains. While Carnegie Recital Hall in New York provided a hub for these attempts, now that the concert hall had become a legitimate African-American musical space, Mingus was required to devise a way of attracting back uninitiated Western art music patrons. This was largely accomplished through the promotion of his works under the banner of “modern jazz composition.” While linkage between the terms “jazz” and “composition” had been occurring in jazz since the 1930s, even quite overtly, as in the promotion of Ellington’s Carnegie Hall performances, these early associations used the performer, not the composition, as their main focus. Ellington’s 1943 concert at Carnegie Hall for instance received a good deal of attention related to his composition Black Brown and Beige yet the performance was marketed to patrons under the title “Duke Ellington and His Orchestra” (Tucker, 1993, p. 161). Dizzy Gillespie’s 1947 Carnegie Hall debut in turn, despite its importance in showcasing modern bebop innovation and John Lewis arrangements, was marketed under Gillespie’s name (Levin, 1947, p. 1). The promotion of Mingus’ 1950s performances in contrast switched the focus from “performer” to “composition.”

Initially this was realized through Mingus’ 1954 collaboration with the Jazz Composers Workshop, a collective that included Max Roach, Thelonious Monk, Art Blakey, Kenny Clarke, John Lewis, Teo Macero, and John LaPorta (Porter, 2002, p. 116). Performances of works composed by group members were set up at both Carnegie Recital Hall in January and the Museum of Modern Art in May, the former demonstrating reliance on an established domain and the latter, a shift in venue. The compositions themselves, and not the performers, were made the focal point of these events and were given considerable coverage in the popular press. Such focus, it should be noted, was not always beneficial. The works presented at the January concert served as fodder for the group’s first review in Down Beat and were referred to as “uniformly disappointing” in terms of “structure, thematic content and rhythmic interest”

(‘Jazz Composers Workshop,’ 1954, p. 21). George Simon’s review of the May performance published in Metronome was again mixed, referring to Mingus’ work Background for Thought as “an involved bit of writing, far too confusing to be digested at one hearing, and even intricate enough to call for a halt by Mingus and then a fresh start” (Quoted in Priestly, 1982, p. 57). Yet the group steadily progressed and by 1955, follow-up performances had been scheduled at Carnegie Recital Hall and the YMHA on Lexington Avenue (‘New Series,’ 1955, p. 16). Utilizing the series title Developments in Modern Jazz, these concerts mirrored the format of Stearn’s lecture series. Audience members were encouraged to ask questions after the performance of each work, and debate surrounding compositional intent erupted in at least one instance between performers on the stage (‘New Series,’ 1955, p. 16). The audience outreach goal of such a format were quite obvious. Speaking on behalf of the musicians at a January 1955 performance, Bill Coss told Down Beat “jazz is now at a point where it must make some forward steps to meet its potential audiences” (‘New Series,’ 1955, p. 16), a point to which the journalist responded: “These concerts are an excellent and commendatory example of one of the best ways for musicians to make those steps” (‘New Series,’ 1955, p. 16).

While Mingus’ relationship with the Jazz Composers Workshop helped accomplish his goal of reaching a new audience, his compositions for the group capitalized on this access by utilizing vernacular material in constructing what would appear to many to be Western art music sonic concepts. This is most evident in his arrangement of Tea For Two released on the 1955 album Jazz Composers Workshop. Here, Mingus utilizes the standard 32 bar form of the title work, but pairs the Tea for Two melody in counterpoint with the melodies of jazz standards Perdido and Body and Soul (Priestly, 1982, p. 58). The resulting polyphony Signifies on Western art music contrapuntal practices, in effect presenting the work as derived from European processes to one set of listeners and acknowledging its debt to jazz history for others. His original composition Purple Heart, released on the same album, utilizes improvised counterpoint to a similar end. In the context of the Developments in Modern Jazz series, the interweaving lines of clarinettist John LaPorta and baritone saxophonist George Barrow would have likely appeared to be vernacular practice of polyphonic improvisation to one group of listeners while signifying a European influence to the Western art music cohort.

Further evidence of Mingus’ Afro-Modernist approach can be seen in his work Revelations (1957), presented at the Brandeis University Jazz festival in June 1957. Mingus’ access to the University in this instance can be understood as a result of both gradual advances in the early Civil Rights movement and the normalization of modern jazz performances at Universities during the early 1950s. Yet it must also be noted that this was not a “Mingus” concert. The focus of the festival lay in the promotion of composition, similar to the Developments in Modern Jazz series. Revelations was a commissioned work, as were the works by other festival participants Jimmy Giuffre, George Russell, Harold Shapero, Milton Babbitt and Gunther Schuller. Such compositional focus likely aided Mingus’ inclusion in the program while casting a wide net in terms of potential audience members.

Certainly Babbitt’s participation would have contributed to the success of the latter cause. Babbitt had established himself in the late 1940s and early 1950s as a composer who synthesised and expanded on “Schoenbergian and Webernian practices” (Mead, 1994, p. 54). The work Babbitt would present, All Set (1957), built on the 12-tone compositional procedures he had advanced during the first part of his career while incorporating jazz improvisational and formal gestures (Wintle, 1976, p. 121). As the work marked Babbitt’s first interaction with jazz, it seems reasonable to assume that some of his supporters would have been less familiar with the genre than those who had long supported Mingus and the other composers on the program, all of whom maintained at least some connection with the jazz art world.

While Mingus’ awareness of Babbit’s involvement was likely, given the early announcement of the festival participants (‘Six Works,’ 1957, p. 11), it is difficult to say with certainty that Revelations was designed with his participation in mind. Still, the work Signifies on the atonality of the second Viennese school in a manner that would have engaged Babbit’s supporters. This can be seen in the work’s opening section, which begins with a theme performed in unison by the baritone saxophone, bassoon, horn, trombone, harp and bass (example 2.1).

Example 2.1 Revelations (1957) Opening Theme mm. 1-4. Published Score [Reduced and set in Finale].

While not strictly a 12-tone row, the opening theme is highly chromatic and presents 11 out of 12 possible pitches in quick succession (Ab/G# sharp is missing and some notes are repeated). This passage then progresses through three interweaving composed solos, one for French horn, one for trumpet and one for trombone, all utilizing similar non-diatonic pitch collections before the theme returns in its original orchestration. An ostinato on the pitch Bb begins the following section, played by the baritone sax, bassoon, harp, guitar and bass parts, accompanying a fanfare played by the alto saxophone, French horn, trumpet and trombone. This section climaxes in the juxtapositioning of an A major chord (spelled A-Db-E) against the Bb ostinato and the lyric “oh yes, my LORD!” sung by the percussionist (example 2.2, pg. 73).

It is the incorporation of this latter element that begs the most attention in a Signifyin(g) analysis. Mingus made clear his intention to evoke the vernacular in this moment, writing in his performance notes:

The singing shout ‘Oh, yes, my Lord” can be delivered by a performer other than the drummer, or optionally by several players. Finally, if no one is able to produce this shout in authentic “black church” style, a brief improvised “shout” by, for example, the alto saxophone could be substituted (Mingus, 1976, p. 2).

This reference to the black church links the lyric to the “testifying” trope of African-American religious services in which vocal shouts are used as a means of affirming preached content. One level of Signifyin(g) can therefore be seen when the shout is viewed as a comment on the strictures of notated performance. Mingus’ dissonant opening pushes the limits of traditionally notated music, freeing his melody from the confines of diatonicism by embracing atonal concepts. The shout comes at the climax of this section, confirming or praising the preceding material while in turn pointing to additional or alternate freedoms found in vernacular practices.

Example 2.2 Revelations (1957) mm. 28-9. Published Score.

This commentary is advanced further in Mingus’ section of “open” improvisation. Located between the work’s quasi-atonal opening and ending, this section draws on a slight variation of the blues scale in the creation of a dissonant group improvisation. The structural components employed towards this end are a two-measure repeated vamp and two sets of “blowing scales” indicated in example 2.3 for the trumpet. The same scales are provided earlier in the score for the other instruments directed to improvise during this section. The first scale, located in measure 169, is the Bb harmonic minor scale with an added raised 4th degree. This pitch is blues derived (an enharmonic equivalent of the flat 5th) and presents again in the second scale, played over Eb7. Mirroring the first scale, this second pitch collection includes another addition, a raised 6th degree, allowing the performer access to pendular thirds over the Eb7

harmony. The two-measure section includes the directions “Repeat ad libitum, build to climax,” and the 1957 recording demonstrates an interpretation of this requirement: The performers steadily increase both the length and volume of their improvised statements until a high degree of dissonance has been reached (audio example 1). This section is then followed by a restatement of the work’s initial theme.

Example 2.3 Revelations (1957) mm. 169-73. Published Score.

Where Mingus’ shout confirmed the use of notation in freeing music from diatonic restrictions and pointed to alternate paths towards musical freedom, the design of Mingus’ open section demonstrated the capacity of blues based polyphonic improvisation in achieving similar sonic

goals while upholding central core vernacularisms. The parallel between the approaches is made overt in the transition from the “open” section to the (nearly) 12-tone theme that follows, thus framing the vernacular as an equal partner in tonal liberation. In the Mingus examples cited thus far, it is important to note that African-American musical elements are utilized as the core building blocks of Signified Western art music sonic effects. Instead of using jazz (or Western art music practices) as a veneer, Mingus manipulates the vernacular directly, forcing it to speak the double voiced utterances required by the Signifyin(g) trope.

In terms of audience expansion, these compositional processes resulted in mixed success. Gunther Schuller recognized the potential of Mingus’ compositions in what would become the Third Stream market and collaborated with him on the 1960 project Pre-Bird, realizing jazz standards and syncretic Mingus originals through an expanded jazz orchestra that included flute, oboe and tuba (in addition to the traditional trumpets, trombones, saxes and rhythm section). Development of the album was supported by Mercury Records, yet its release marked Mingus’ first and last project with the label. The work Revelations in turn would become increasingly aligned with the Third Stream genre while the composer moved more aggressively towards the vernacular. Revelations was released with other syncretic works, including Lewis’ Three Little Feelings on a 1964 album titled Outstanding Jazz Compositions of the 20th Century and has been referred to in retrospect as one of the earliest commissioned Third Stream works (Joyner, 2000, p. 78) as well as a hallmark of the “classical jazz modernist” approach (Lopes, 2002, p. 244). The bulk of Mingus’ post Revelations pieces in contrast are described by Porter as follows:

Whether it was based on a fear of being marginalized by black reformulations of the idiom, the influence of Charlie Parker and other bebop architects, the expectations of record labels and audiences, the political moment, an artistic impasse, or, more likely, a combination of factors, Mingus changed his approach to composition and bandleading. He began working with original compositions that included more African-American vernacular musical elements (for example, gospel and blues inflections), and he allowed musicians greater leeway in creating the melodic (if not harmonic) structure of each performance of these compositions (Porter, 2002, p. 124).

The 1959 albums Blues and Roots and Mingus Ah Um are indicative of this vernacular-heavy approach. While continuing to tease and manipulate the blues, these albums showcased vernacular elements such as “open fourths and fifths, rhythmic vamps that shuffled back and forth for extended periods, gospel cries of enthusiasm from the band stand [and] melodies that traded the snaky chromatics of bebop for simpler repeated blues statements” (Saul, 2003, p. 195) in a more overt manner than Mingus’ works for the Jazz Composers Workshop and Brandeis Jazz Festival. This approach was encouraged by Atlantic records’ producer Nesuhi Ertegun (Saul, 2003, p. 195) and can be seen to permeate the popular 1961 album Mingus Oh, Yeah!. Such alignment moved Mingus’ compositions closer to the R&B and popular music audience. As Saul notes, “the mainstream youth market” was already embracing blues heavy syncretic works by vocalists Sam Cooke and Paul Anka and while Mingus rejected popular music alignment in interviews, his late 1950s success is at least partially tied to this demographic (Saul, 2003, p. 195).

While Mingus shifted from a strategy in which “classical” masks were utilized towards financial gain to a strategy in which R&B connection was exploited towards the same end, his contribution to designing alternate jazz performance spaces in the mid 1950s continued to inspire other artists. John Lewis in particular appears to have gained insight from Mingus’ approach through his participation in the Jazz Composers Workshop. This is evident in his implementation of a similar promotional agenda in the form of the Modern Jazz Society and the Jazz and Classical Music Society between 1955 and 1957. Similarity between the goals of the two composers is evident in Lewis’ statements regarding a modernist agenda, put forth in a 1953 Down Beat interview with Nat Hentoff. Echoing Mingus’ call for the expansion of the jazz audience, Lewis vented frustration with bebop-style improvisation and his perception of its alienating effects, stating:

If solos go on for chorus after chorus, it’s hard enough for the musician to remember what he’s constructing. It must be even more difficult for the listener… The audience for jazz can be widened if we strengthen our work with structure. If there is more of a reason for what’s going on, there’ll be more overall sense, and, therefore, more interest for the listener. (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26).

These comments parallel Mulligan’s recollection of Lewis’ attitude during the Birth of the Cool sessions and have a tendency to be used in discussions of Lewis’ appropriation of European compositional conventions (Davis, 1983; Bourne, 1992). Yet Lewis was quick to champion the vernacular in the same article, pointing to the rhythmic interplay of New Orleans style improvisation as a solution to what he perceived as “rhythmic dullness” in contemporary jazz and to the primacy of swing in creating “meaningful rhythmic sense” in a work (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26). Indeed, balance between structure and the vernacular was paramount in Lewis’ vision, indicated in his concluding statement: “it must be possible to hear all of the music or else… these other aspects lose their impact” (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26). Like in the case of Mingus, such an agenda would prove problematic to implement within the confines of the established jazz domain.

Lewis’ experience with the Davis nonet had demonstrated the futility of syncretic pursuits in existing jazz venues. Like Davis, the arrangers and collaborators on the Birth of the Cool had felt the pain of a lack of follow-up performances and the general disinterest by jazz consumers towards their experiments. Lewis’ subsequent projects in response demonstrated a shift away from the syncretic sound of the nonet back towards the earlier bebop style. Examples from this period include a 1951 recording with Davis released as Miles Davis and Horns10 and four separate recordings made as part of the Milt Jackson Quartet between 1951 and 1952. Yet Lewis struggled in a style where pianistic virtuosity was paramount to success. As Davis realigned with the bebop sound in the early 1950s, he dropped Lewis and replaced him with pianists more capable of performing bebop lines, a list that eventually included among others, pianists Kenny Drew and Walter Bishop. As Martin Williams would later point out, Lewis’ strength as a pianist did “not include obvious finger dexterity” and he frequently avoided “the percussively delivered chord patterns… typical [of] modern jazz pianist[s],” instead choosing to “offer complementary countermelodies behind… soloist[s]” (Williams, 1970, p. 158-9). While this approach apparently met Jackson’s approval (evident in his reliance on Lewis as an accompanist), it left little room for Lewis to manoeuvre outside his role as sideman. Success would instead need to be pursued through Lewis’ strengths in arrangement and composition,

10 According to Davis, Lewis left early on the recording date leaving Davis to play most of the piano tracks himself (Davis, 1989, p. 143). 75

embraced in a new permutation of the Milt Jackson Quartet, this time with Lewis at the head: the Modern Jazz Quartet.

Lewis laid out a strategy for successful syncretic promotion to bassist Percy Heath and Jackson in 1952 as follows:

John’s vision for the group was to change the music from just a jam session, or rhythm section and soloist idea, to something more. We were all equal members, and the dress, the wearing of tuxedos, and trying to perform in concert rather than always in nightclubs, was part of what he envisioned to change the whole attitude about the music (Heath quoted in Giddins, 1998, p. 382).

Central to this strategy was the exploration of new performance spaces, yet despite a desire to play more “concert” settings, the MJQ initially struggled to gain access to venues apart from nightclubs. Continuing to trade primarily under vibraphonist Milt Jackson’s name, the group toured jazz clubs along the east coast during 1953 and 1954, enduring a paradox of critical praise and audience disinterest. The latter is evident in Heath’s recollection of a three-week residency at Birdland in 1954:

We had a hard time getting people to quiet down and listen. At that time in nightclubs, people were talking about hanging out. In order to break that down, instead of trying to play over the conversation, we’d use reverse psychology and play softer. Suddenly, they knew we were up there and realized the conversation was louder than the music. Of course, it if got too loud, we’d come off – just stop playing and walk off. It didn’t take long for them to realize they were wasting their time because we weren’t going to entertain them in that sense (Heath quoted in Giddins, 1998, p. 384).

Critical reception of the Birdland performances in contrast demonstrated excitement over the group’s musical approach. Nat Hentoff, the journalist who had given Lewis a platform for articulating his modernist strategy in 1953, echoed back Lewis’ comments regarding the balance of vernacular and modern structural elements in his review of the performance:

One new work that is now in the book is a warmly lyrical new Lewis original, Django, and a pungent True Blues. These numbers, like almost all of the Quartet’s book, combine careful but fluid form with space for free improvisation. Thereby, the jazz improvisation becomes more meaningful within the added musical challenges provided by the imaginative form. Equally important is the fact that by working within intelligently flexible form, the Modern Jazz Quartet’s number mean more as a whole than the book of any other current jazz small unit. There is thereby less inconsistency of performance from night to night by the unit as a unit than occurs with groups that are based almost entirely on the solo flights of its members with only tenuous ensemble interconnections between those solos (Hentoff, 1954a, p. 32).

Hentoff’s praise offered support for Lewis’ syncretic process but Heath’s recollections of club performances demonstrate its ill-fit in the jazz scene. These club dates failed additionally in meeting the recruitment priorities put forth in Lewis’ 1953 interview. Fortunately, his involvement with the Jazz Composers Workshop in the early 1950s had modelled a way of addressing both of these issues.

Lewis pursued the creation of a new performance space in the form of the Modern Jazz Society in 1955. Like Mingus, Lewis endeavoured to create a venue in which composition served as the main vehicle for audience attraction. Teaming up with French horn player/composer Gunther Schuller, Lewis assembled a program of works showcasing a range of ensembles, including the MJQ; a chamber ensemble consisting of flute, harp, bassoon and French horn; as well as more traditional big band units. Importantly, the Society’s emphasis on composition expanded beyond the jazz realm, evident in the inclusion of Italian composer Luigi Nono’s Polifonica, Monodia, Ritmica. This performance marked Nono’s first appearance in the U.S. and his reputation abroad as an “an unusually important modern composer” formed part of the inaugural concert promotion (Hentoff, 1955a, p. 14). Like Babbitt’s later inclusion in the 1957 Brandeis Jazz Festival, Nono’s inclusion on the Modern Jazz Society program would have ensured a broader audience demographic than had Lewis and the MJQ attempted to promote the performance on their own. In addition, while the group utilized an established jazz domain, Town Hall, the space was claimed early on in the name of composition as

opposed to “jazz.” An announcement for the concert reads: “A unique concert in Town Hall Nov. 19 will be the first venture of the new Modern Jazz Society, a nonprofit organization for providing a wider hearing for contemporary music and musicians” (‘Jazz Society Spots,’ 1955, p. 52). Such “unique” aspects of this performance in effect created a new musical space in which Lewis’ expansionist agenda could be more efficiently realized.

Importantly, many of the musical selections presented by the MJQ at the first Modern Jazz Society concert were the same the group had been presenting in jazz clubs over the past few years. The work Concorde for example can be found on recorded broadcasts of MJQ performances at Birdland made on January 23, 1955 and January 30, 1955 while their closing number, The Queens Fancy, surfaces on a Birdland recording made on October 31, 1953.11 The presence of these works in both club performances and the Modern Jazz Society program seems to indicate Lewis viewed a potential for success in both settings, yet Heath’s stated comments point to a failure to engage club audiences. Still, an analysis of the work Concorde reveals a double-voiced design typical of Afro-Modernist products created with the goal of expansion/sustainment in mind.

Concorde stands out in this regard as a result of its Signifyin(g) treatment of fugal processes. As Owens (1976) shows in his analysis of the work, the initial theme is treated in the manner of a fugal subject, traded between the bass, piano and vibraphone over the course of a 25-measure exposition (Appendix (b)). Yet the theme itself is comprised largely of Ring tropes (example 2.4).

11 The Queen’s Fancy was recorded October 31, 1953 at Birdland. Concorde was recorded twice at Birdland, once on January 23, 1955 and once on January 30, 1955. See Appendix (f) for further details. 78

Example 2.4 Concorde (1954) “Fugal Subject”, Bass. mm. 1-7. Published Score [Reduced and set in Finale].

The opening two bars form what Floyd (1995a) would likely label a “call,” employing the use of pendular thirds, B moving to C, in transition to the Ab harmony. The “response” that follows in bars 3-4 again employs pendular thirds but embellishes the initial statement by adding yet another Ring trope, the blues flat seventh over the tonic harmony on the up-beat of beat one in bar 4. In Floyd’s model of “call-response” this added note serves as a Signifying revision of the initial motivic statement, in effect claiming similarity and individuality at the same time. An additional layer of Signifyin(g) can then be seen to take place as the call- response statement re-enters, first in the piano (measure 8) and then in the vibraphone (measure 16) (see Appendix (b)). The dovetailing of these statements evokes the layered thematic construction of fugal compositions while simultaneously reiterating, again and again, the core blues components of the “fugal” subject. To a jazz audience, the repeated statements inherent to the fugal process may have signified an additional layer of blues derived call- response structure while to others, they would have likely appeared linked to the canon of Western art music. Performing this work in front of a diverse audience would have therefore allowed Lewis to potentially entertain those “in the know” while simultaneously recruiting those uninitiated.

A similar strategy is employed in Lewis’ work Three Little Feelings (1956) written for the Jazz and Classical Music Society in 1956. The Jazz and Classical Music Society [JCMS] was an outgrowth of the Modern Jazz Society, designed with the intent of encouraging the performance of contemporary music, especially works “written by composers in the jazz field who would not otherwise have an opportunity for their less-conventional work to be

presented” (Avakian, 1957, p. 1). The term “less-conventional” does not in and of itself strip African-American alignment from these works, yet the JCMS went further than any previous space creation project in targeting an audience of Western art music patrons. Not only did the group include the term “Classical Music” in their title, they recruited New York Philharmonic conductor Dmitri Mitropoulos’ participation in their inaugural concert, seeking to capitalize on the reputation of a well known Western art-music figure (‘Jazz-Classical, 1956, p. 9). While this performance was first delayed and then ultimately cancelled, its early publicity paved the way for the marketing of an album of works in which Mitropoulos participated, sharing conducting credit with Schuller, and issued under the title: The Jazz and Classical Music Society presents a program of Music for Brass.

Three Little Feelings again employs Floyd’s trope of call-response as a key structural device, seen most clearly in its first movement. The initial thematic statement, the “call,” is stated in unison by two trombones and two French horns before being concluded in unison by two French horns and two trumpets (example 2.5, pg. 83). The blues flat fifth features prominently in the second measure and the blues third forms an integral part of the second half of the thematic figure seen on the following page in measure four. The second thematic statement, or the “response,” revises the first part of the theme while maintaining the second (example 2.6, pg. 84). Again, the flat fifth plays a significant role in the identity of the primary figure, falling to an F natural in measure 7 and thus paralleling measure 2 of example 2.5, yet Lewis draws additional attention to the blues inflection by requiring semi-tone movement between the pitch and scale degree 5 twice in measure 7 as opposed to just once in measure 1.

Example 2.5 Three Little Feelings (1956) Theme. mm. 1-5. Published Score [Set in Finale].

Example 2.5 (continued) Three Little Feelings (1956) Theme. mm. 6-11. Published Score [Set in Finale].

Repetition of these two sets of thematic material comprise the vast majority of written music during the first movement, the details of which are outlined in Figure 2.1 on the following page. The result is a riff-driven work in which nearly all composed material can be linked back to the initial thematic statement. The pairing of this material with improvisation provides a further layer of vernacular presence (see Figure 2.1).

Figure 2.1 Formal outline of John Lewis’ Three Little Feelings (1956), Movement 1.

M. Section Length Key Description 1 Introduction 12 Cmin Unison thematic entrance in horns and trombone develops into harmonized thematic passage across the brass.

13 Composed Trombone Solo 8 Cmin Horns play theme in counterpoint to trombone solo; drums and bass accompany.

21 Composed Trumpet Solo (theme 8 Cmin Call and response between composed paraphrase) trumpet line and horn backing figures derived from mm. 1-2; drums and bass accompany.

29 Improvised Trumpet Solo 32 Cmin One measure horn, trombone and baritone backing figure derived from mm. 1-2 accompanies first 16 measures; tympani and drums accompany first 15 measures; tympani, drums, bass accompany last 17 measures.

61 Interlude 9 Eb Full brass harmonization of thematic material from mm. 4-5; piano, tympani, drums, bass accompany.

70 Tuba Solo (exact theme) 9 Cmin Tuba thematic statement accompanied by tympani and drums transitions to unison horns, trombones, baritones and tuba for second half of theme.

79 Improvised Trumpet Solo 7 Cmin Call and response between improvised trumpet and theme played by the remaining trumpet section. Horns, trombones, baritones and tuba provide chordal accompaniment. Drums accompany.

86 Truncated Theme and Cadence 6 Cmin Unison truncated theme played by the trumpets ending on unison G followed by three one-measure Cmin chords with added scale degrees 9 and 11, formed across the brass.

The Signifyin(g) aspects of the first movement of Three Little Feelings therefore have less to do with its compositional design than its choice of instrumentation and selection of presentation space. The addition of French horns, baritone horns and tuba evoke associations with musical styles separate from African-American vernacular music and its location on an album with works conducted by Mitropoulos aligns it, at least in terms of marketing, more with Western art music than with the jazz art world. The extent to which the work’s riff driven design was hidden is evident in popular press reviews. Ellsworth, for example, places it outside the jazz realm with the exception of its improvised passages, stating:

The standout composition here for me is John Lewis’ Three Little Feelings… I guess Lewis has the patent on this kind of writing, the formal structure on a three-part

invention written out in some complexity with holes for blowing to provide the jazz feeling (Ellsworth, 1957, p. 37).

Schuller concurs with Ellsworth’s assessment, stating that Lewis had, “in a very simple, unspectacular way” combined “the romantic and the classical in a judicious blending” (Schuller, 1957, p. 1). John Wilson, writing for the New York Times, further contributed to the consensus, noting Three Little Feelings indicated there could be “jazz composition based on the same kind of form and structure used in the composition of ‘serious’ music” (Wilson, 1957a, p. 97) while De Micheal and Welding noted that the work and Jimmy Giuffre’s Pharaoh, both included on the 1964 re-release of Music for Brass, “show clearly the influence of classical composition on the composers” (De Micheal & Welding, 1964, p. 25). While such assessments would have been crucial in meeting the expansionist agenda inherent to an Afro-Modernist strategy, too much success would work to separate the piece in popular imagination from the realm of African-American expressive culture.

Indeed, regardless of what is described above as an Afro-Modernist design, the lack of listeners willing or able to hear the music as double-voiced commentary is evident in Lewis’ increasing marginalization from the jazz world as outlined in the following chapter. Part of this issue arises from the fact that Three Little Feelings was not a work easily performed outside of the newly created Modern Music venue, and therefore was in many ways limited to the “expansion” and not the “maintenance” part of the Afro-Modernist paradigm. Another factor at play was the perceived subtlety of vernacular devices. Yet debate over how much “masking” is too much “masking” has constantly surrounded Afro-Modernist products. As discussed in Chapter One, Baker (1987) uses, as his primary example the speeches of Booker T. Washington, despite the fact that the strategies employed in these speeches were frequently challenged by those who favoured more direct engagement with the African-American voice. Washington’s most notable critic, W.E.B. Dubois called out the masking trope in his essay Of Mr. Booker T. Washington and Others claiming that Washington “represents in Negro thought the old attitude of adjustment and submission” and that “in failing thus to state plainly and unequivocally the legitimate demands of their people, even at the cost of opposing an honored leader, the thinking classes of American Negroes… shirk a heavy responsibility” (Dubois, 1953, pp. 36-9). Dubois’ critique makes clear an appeal for clarity and the desire for more

direct action but does not criticize the intent of Washington’s strategy. Later critics were less kind, aligning Washington with Uncle Tomism and the persistence of African-American disfranchisement (Norrell, 2009, p. 15). A similar trend persists in evaluation of the works surveyed in this chapter, and problematised in Chapter One. Yet, as I have shown, by placing them in the context of economic strategies embraced following the 1940s big band decline, it is possible to view them as working toward the behest of African-American culture during a period of necessary recruitment.

Given the lack of performance and recording opportunities at the beginning of the 1950s, the artists discussed here sought to break new ground, broadening the jazz market through the expansion of performance venues and audience demographics. A syncretic approach to composition in which jazz vernacular devices and Western art music devices were fused helped appeal to the modernist model of jazz development espoused in academic circles. Yet many of these works went even farther, creating Western art music sonorities through the innovative deployment of jazz vernacular devices, clearly demonstrating operation of the Signiyin(g) act as interpreted by Gates (1988) and Floyd (1995a). While the degree to which these acts were overt varied from project to project, their presence can be discerned across the compositional spectrum. In the case of the MJQ however, a perception of vernacular denial related to this compositional approach would lead to a broader stripping of African-American identity in discussion surrounding the group members’ behavior. Such claims evince a reverse of the racial stereotyping outlined by Porter (2002), calling special attention to the “manners” and “gentility” of the group as if these concepts were foreign to African-American culture. This reading of the MJQ, discussed in Chapter Three, demonstrates the ultimate cost of failing to consider the possibility of African-American rhetorical strategy at play in the design of syncretic jazz works.

Chapter 3 The Role of Rhythmic Essentialism in John Lewis’ Marginalisation from African- American Expressive Culture

The statements of Mingus and Lewis regarding an Afro-Modernist agenda that were cited and discussed in the previous chapter form a crucial part of the argument presented in this thesis. Such comments evince the fact that some African-American artists share a perception of core African-American musical elements, but that engagement with these tropes is intentional. In other words, they demonstrate that producers of Afro-Modernist products make conscious choices regarding the placement of encoded meanings in their texts; Signifyin(g) is not an act towards which they are predisposed but one that they deliberately choose. The inclusion of Dave Brubeck as an Afro-Modernist figure takes this autonomy a step further, breaking down the potential barrier of race for those who wish to engage the Afro-Modernist agenda. Such discussion highlights the role of independence in artistic expression and endeavours to put forth both a more inclusive and increasingly more specific definition of what it means to be an Afro-Modernist.

Yet this reading of the paradigm is at odds with those who view certain Ring tropes as essential components of all African-American musical products. This is evident in the ranking of improvisation above all other African-American musical devices in both Afrological and Eurological constructions of the jazz canon discussed in Chapter One, as well as in the persistent essentialising of rhythmic effects that colours 1950s jazz press commentary on John Lewis and the MJQ surveyed in this chapter. Both constructs appear to stem from discourse extending back to early travelogues of the African continent in which the qualities of spontaneity, fast tempo and loud volume were read as facets of genetic coding (Radano, 2003). Salmone (2005) refers to these qualities as “Dionysian” in his discussion of perceptions of jazz authenticity and the term is employed with the same meaning in this chapter.

While jazz improvisation frequently embodies such Dionysian characteristics, and was more or less easy to spot in the works assessed by critics surveyed in Chapter One (the assessments demonstrate reliance on a binary understanding of the trope; improvisation either occurred or did not occur), the presence of Dionysian rhythm emergent from the same musical criteria is more difficult to identify as individual affect thresholds vary. Accordingly, discussion of the

precise levels of spontaneity, tempo and volume required to produce an authentic performance in relation to rhythm is frequently circumvented in jazz discourse by way of generalized descriptions of physical response (“fever,” “frenzy” and “craze” in early commentary; “propulsion” and “grip” in discussions of later styles). This descriptive language upholds essentialist readings of African-American musical products tied to a Dionysian ideal but is easily undermined by contrasting adjectives that are used in relation to instrumentation, melodic line and musical form. For example, as is discussed in the second half of this chapter, assessments of dynamic control, instrumental balance and the complexity of structural devices in MJQ works tended to utilize language that highlighted mental rather than physical engagement. Terms such as “interesting,” “intellectual” and “cerebral” occurred more frequently than commentary regarding physical response in these discussions and thus a perception of inauthenticity emerged in relation to some MJQ works even when improvisation and rapid rhythmic underpinning were present.

As will be demonstrated, this critical bent distanced both the music and behaviour of Lewis from perceived African-American cultural norms in the popular press well before academic assessments of his oeuvre were enacted. Complicating this portrayal are Lewis’ early comments affirming what he viewed to be an operational standpoint located within the boundaries of an African-American artistic tradition. Deconstructing rhythmic essentialism in jazz and its impact on criticism of Lewis in the popular press allows the artist’s own comments regarding influence to gain critical weight, thus supporting the Afro-Modernist revision of his works laid out in Chapters Four and Five.

3.1 Essentialising Rhythm in Jazz Discourse Radano (2003) has problematised the importance bestowed on rhythm in African-American musical discourse as the end result of a mythological construct in which native Africans were viewed as biologically predisposed towards certain types of musical performance.12 Surveying European travelogues of the African continent, Radano shows that a perception of savagery was linked early on, in a genetic sense, to African dance and musical performance as a way of

12 Radano’s (2003) work builds in part on Agawu’s (1995) essay The Myth of African Rhythm, in which the author suggests uncritical acceptance of African rhythmic difference served as a route through which disparate African musical practices have been amalgamated under the banner of “rhythm” during the process of scholarly ratification. 87

highlighting the civility and order (if not the perceived supremacy) of parallel European cultural products (Radano, 2003, pp. 89-90). William Bosman’s “New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea” (1705) provides one such example, demonstrating how the syncopation and volume of percussive parts in African music was sometimes exaggerated in order to “widen the gap [both culturally and genetically] between Europeans and Africans” (Radano, 2003, p. 81). This is evident in Bosman’s reduction of the intricacies of a group performance involving wind instruments and percussion to the level of an ad-hoc percussive improvisation both “horrid and barbarous… produc[ing] a sort of extravagant noise” (Quoted in Radano, 2003, p. 81). According to Radano, such a comment “adopts what was by then a familiar racial association, comparing their [the Guineans’] performance to the regressive sounds and behavior of animals and children” (Radano, 2003, p. 81). Following this description, Bosman warns against “‘international’ sexual relations” in an attempt to stem the flow of such musical practices into the European heredity pool (Radano, 2003, p. 82). A belief in biological predisposition towards an overtly percussive musical style is articulated in the structure of this argument. While Bosman’s concern is directed towards the potential spread of African rhythmic effects, others problematised Dionysian rhythmic predisposition as a uniquely African problem.

Sorrento’s (1682) observations on the music of Ethiopia provide Radano (2003) with evidence in regard to this latter viewpoint, linking the sinful nature of the descendants of Ham with a percussive performance aesthetic equal to that of the Guineans’.13 Sorrento begins his argument by claiming that the “blackness among… [Ethiopia’s] own inhabitants” extends from the biblical curse bestowed on Canaan, the son of Ham, a fact evinced both physically (dark skin) and through Sorrento’s observations of innate sinfulness (Pinkerton, 1814, p. 267). He documents the behavioural claim with a survey of cultural practices that apparently demonstrate an invisible drive in Ethiopians compelling them to perform percussive Pagan rituals: “Every new moon these people fall on their knees, or else cry out, standing and clapping their hands” (Pinkerton, 1814, p. 273). Further depictions decry the loud volume of

13 The Biblical figure, Ham, was one of Noah’s five sons. Ham’s son Canaan was cursed and forced into servitude after his father gazed upon Noah’s naked form. According to Evans (1980), ancient Israel’s conquest of the Caananites was partially motivated by this story and lead to an “ethnically stratified society in which the… distribution of power was celebrated by the Hamitic myth” (Evans, 1980, p. 17). Thus, certain ethnicities gained what Evans terms a “slavish reputation” in the minds of those committed to this particular interpretation of the Bible passage. 88

the percussive ritual: “I heard a great clapping of hands, and humming… together with a confused noise of prating among the couriters, and drums beating, trumpets sounding, and other noisy instruments playing” (Pinkerton, 1814, p. 282). Sorrento’s comments support Radano’s hypothesis in that they fuse a particular belief regarding the genetic burdens of Ethiopians with a specific style of musical performance. While much can be said about the inaccuracies of such observations, Radano’s (2003) purpose does not appear to be to chastise in retrospect but to demonstrate how this style of writing contributed to an emerging consensus regarding “essential rhythmic difference” between the music of the African diaspora and the music of Western artists (Radano, 2003, p. 103).

Indeed, such figuring of rhythmic difference can later be seen to extend into the realm of European engagement with African-American musical products. Salamone’s (2005) reflections on “Jazz and its Impact on European Classical Music” draws a specific connection between rhythmic aesthetics and readings of African-American biological predisposition by citing paired mention of jazz’s “rhythmic vitality” with comments about “Negro blood” (Salamone, 2005, p. 735). One of his key pieces of evidence is the defence of jazz offered by Frankfurt Conservatory director Bernhard Sekles in a 1928 New York Times article:

The teaching of jazz is not only the right but the duty of every up-to-date musical institution. The majority of our musicians find themselves permanently or temporarily compelled to play in jazz ensembles. Aside from this practical consideration, a serious study of jazz will be of the greatest help to our young musicians. An infusion of Negro blood can do no harm. It will help to develop a wholesome sense of rhythm, which after all constitutes the life element of music (‘Jazz Bitterly Opposed,’ 1928, p. 10).

Sekles’ comment sets up “Negro” rhythm as biologically inherent while the rhythmic abilities of working European performers are described, in contrast, as resulting from intellectual engagement. In this view, developing a sense of “Negro” rhythm in European students could arise through study, while it existed in the genetic coding of African-American performers. There exists of course the possibility that “blood” serves as a metaphor for “culture” in the statement, yet I would argue that based on Radano’s (2003) study, if the term is being used as a

metaphor, the choice of comparison is indebted to a history of biological predisposition discourse and that essentialist connotations remain. Such understanding results in a paradox in which one route to authentic performance circumvents the need for biological transmission while the other continues to articulate a genetic fallacy. In both cases however, rhythm is essentialised as a key component of the jazz sound and the roots of jazz are located within the African-American race. Importantly Salamone’s later deconstruction of “Negro” rhythm draws on the same musical qualities as Radano’s (2003) survey of African rhythmic aesthetics. Salamone cites spontaneity, or “loose jazz time,” as a central stylistic component as well as loud volume, concepts he links directly to Radano’s (2003) work in his summation that “the more Dionysian a performance, the more African and thus authentic it is” (Salamone, 2005, p. 733).

Further evidence of essentialist African/Dionysian perspectives on jazz rhythm can be seen in the American journal The Musical Quarterly’s early discussions of the genre. During the 1920s, the journal frequently gave voice to authors attempting to document jazz’s impact on compositions of Western art music. Important to both sides of this debate was the influence ethereal qualities ascribed to jazz rhythm might have on European cultural products. Expanding the genetic myth, these qualities were often depicted as a “musical infection,” (Radano, 2003, p. 235) spreading from Africa to the West and carrying with them the symptom of uncontrollable physical response. In her reflections on a developing American compositional voice, Babette Deutsch views this construct in positive terms:

It may easily be discredited, as having its roots in that Negro tune-stuff, those African rhythms from which we strive to extricate ourselves. But it has something else, something that is essential to folk-music all over the world: the stamp of popular approval. It is a fact worth noting that the national anthem never is sung with the same hearty joy and strong emotion with which an audience, even of northerners, greets the tune of “Dixie” (Deutsch, 1921, pp. 306-7).

Deutsch’s argument demonstrates a shift from invisible rhythmic transmission via genetics to invisible rhythmic transmission via exposure while upholding the apparent link between African-American rhythmic aesthetics and musical practices on the African continent.

Simultaneously, Salamone’s African/Dionysian conceptual link is affirmed in that the audience’s experience of “hearty joy” and “strong emotion” speaks to a realization of the Dionysian ideal. Although Deutsch (1921) does not mention rhythmic conventions specifically, others describing similar audience response return to spontaneity as a requisite component.

This can be seen in Paul Laubenstein’s (1929) problematising of jazz rhythm and the seemingly related symptom of uncontrollable physical reflex. After citing the “physical hold” induced by jazz on contemporary youth (Laubenstein, 1929, p. 609), Laubenstein goes on to explicitly dissect the components of the convention, writing:

The mechanical domination is figured forth in the underlying “rhythm” of jazz, in its mass production, its rapid standardization and its speed… What is new in jazz- rhythmics is the peculiar exaggeration and distortion of rhythm, the contrasts produced by freely moving figures gambolling in syncopation over an unvarying fundamental rhythm, both necessary for the proper jazz effect (Laubenstein, 1929, pp. 609-10).

Laubenstein’s depiction highlights the importance of both tempo and spontaneity in the creation of “jazz-rhythmics” as well as the fundamental role “rhythmics” plays in conjuring the “proper jazz effect.” Similar importance is bestowed on rhythmic spontaneity in Thompson’s (1932) later work documenting jazz as a “rhythmical style”:

Rhythm, by definition, involves repetition. By establishing an unvarying beat, superimposing conflicting beats, and interrupting itself from time to time in rhythmic variations of the first magni-tude, jazz achieves the very sum and substance of rhythmical style (Thompson, 1932, p. 11).

The unpredictable nature of jazz rhythm in this description contributes to what Thompson refers to as the “spell of ragtime and jazz,” a predilection towards which he felt both European and American composers were beginning to fall (Thompson, 1932, p. 15).

While Thompson (1932) and Laubenstein’s (1929) comments attempt to explain the symptoms of uncontrollable physical response in technical terms, Deutch’s (1921) approach in which a description of experience was left to stand alone as the sole measure of jazz influence demonstrates a far more common critical practice. For example, Cœuroy and Bakers (1929) describe the contemporary music scenes in Europe and America in terms that directly unites the concept of jazz as “rhythm music” with “dance fever,” all the while avoiding technical discussion of the convention:

All the librettos of English or American operettas are miracles of artlessness and evangelical decorum. But the anemic narrative takes on color from the rhythmic and frolicsome agitation of the melodies, of jazz, and of the personages. They dance. Everybody dances… In the auditorium, if 1,500 skulls are empty, 3,000 legs are itching with dance fever (Cœuroy & Baker, 1929, p. 563).

Use of the term “fever” and the imagery of empty skulls serve as a warning in Cœuroy and Baker’s assessment about the encroaching danger of jazz rhythm. As opposed to the position taken by Deutsh (1921), rhythm’s mysterious ability to facilitate a physical response (positioned against an intellectual response in the quote) is precisely the reason Cœuroy and Baker feel the effect should be avoided in compositions of Western art music. A similar defence of “intellect” emerges in Norman and Tom Sargant’s (1931) controversial argument, put forth in The Musical Times which reads: “The future of Negro music seems to be in the hands of the white man. The Negro seems to be lacking something… A Negro band at its best is a Negro band at its hottest and maddest, and is lacking in balance and refinement” (Sargant & Sargant, 1931, p. 847). Here the “fever” of Cœuroy and Baker’s (1929) assessment has progressed to a “madness” threatening to undermine the entirety of the genre. Although the terms “fever” and “madness” could indeed refer to a response induced by any number of musical conventions, there is compelling evidence linking the terms to rhythm in that they echo the motif of “physical hold” and “spell” resultant of rhythmic effects central to Laubenstein (1929) and Thompson’s (1932) arguments.

Similar essentialist ideas underlie assessments of the jazz genre unconcerned with its influence on Western art music. Gioia’s (1989) survey of French jazz criticism (mentioned briefly in

Chapter One) highlights several particularly salient examples in which authentic jazz performance is tied, through the genetic myth, to a Dionysian style of performance. He begins by describing the urban Parisian culture of the 1940s in which many continued to accept the fallacy of genetic predisposition towards musical performance posited by European explorers of Africa while simultaneously expanding this understanding to incorporate newly introduced African-American musical products. Evidence of this perspective is provided in the form of quotes by critics Hugues Panassié and Robert Goffin, among others, which describe the behaviour of jazz musicians in terms that invoke the “noble savage” motif routed in the philosophy of Rousseau. Parallels are obvious between Rousseau’s claim that “Everything is good as it leaves the hands the Author of things; everything degenerates in the hands of man (Rousseau, [1762] 1979, p. 37) and French jazz critic Hugues Panassié’s argument, made in support of jazz music:

In music, primitive man generally has greater talent than civilized man. An excess of culture atrophies inspiration, and men crammed with culture tend too much to play tricks, to replace inspiration by lush technique under which one finds music stripped of real vitality (Panassié, 1942, p. 137).

Gioia concludes that Panassié’s connection between the “primitive” and music of “real vitality” specifically influenced appraisals of jazz musicians working in musical styles and performance practices that relied on the spontaneous energy of simultaneous improvisation. Performers of the New Orleans style of jazz, a style in which several performers improvised at once in real time collaboration, were singled out both as authentic purveyors of the music as well as primitive oditties. Such portrayal is evident in Robert Goffin’s description of Louis Armstrong as an artist able to bring “the directness and spontaneity of his race to jazz music” (Goffin, 1944, p. 137) by falling into a “trance” during performance (Goffin, 1944, p. 167). In an affirmation of genetic coding, Goffin goes on to remark: “Many musicians, particularly among the whites, have plenty of natural talent; yet, for these, the phenomenon of the trance is rare if not completely nonexistent” (Goffin, 1944, p. 167). While Gioia’s study points to the success of this style of criticism in raising the profile of New Orleans jazz in France, it does not engage with the history of “primitivist” musical descriptions to the extent of Radano’s (2003) work. This omission fosters an overemphasis of the role of polyphonic improvisation in

the formation of critical perceptions regarding Dionysian performance. There is little doubt polyphonic improvisation played a role in contributing to the impression of a Dionysian performance aesthetic, yet as is shown below, the comments of those surveyed by Gioia can also be seen to uphold rhythmic essentialism in an uncompromising manner. Given this additional evidence, it seems likely that Gioia’s (1989) observations are to some extent tied to the critical trends identified by Radano (2003).

Certainly an echo of the language documented by Radano (2003) is present in the works discussed by Gioia (1989). In a statement that speaks to both the centrality and biological roots of jazz rhythm, Panassié writes in Le jazz hot (1936):

I come now to that essential element of jazz found in no other music, which contributes the most to the special character of jazz. This element is the Negro “swing”… I can give you at least a vague idea of swing in saying that it is a sort of “swinging” of the rhythm and melody which makes for great dynamic power. Often this power, this vitality is not apparent; often it is more or less held back; but it is always there… Since the word swing [italics in original] is practically never used in speaking of ordinary dance music, I will use it exclusively for jazz, instead of saying “‘Negro’ swing” each time to show that this swing belongs to jazz alone and derives from those Negro musicians who first created it (Panassié, 1936, p. 4-5).

Panassié’s description not only heralds swing’s Dionysian qualities (“vitality” and “power” in the quote), it depicts these qualities as embedded innately within “Negro musicians” and weighs the convention as the most distinguishing feature of the jazz genre. Robert Goffin follows suit, championing a direct connection between jazz rhythm and African musical practices. After describing slave dances in Congo Square at the turn of the century, Goffin (1946) claims:

It is a scene of religious ecstacy [sic] – the mystical enchantment of pure rhythm… This evidence leaves not the slightest doubt as to the survival of the African tradition. I think it certain that the important role of the drummer, from the very beginning of

jazz, may be traced back in direct line to the African tom-tom beaters. At the base of jazz, then, we find African rhythmic expression (Goffin, 1946, pp. 13-4).

While these comments do not, in and of themselves, sever a potential bond between jazz rhythm and polyphonic improvisation in the creation of a Dionysian performance aesthetic, the language of affect (“ecstacy,” “orgie”) continues to parallel the language of uncontrollable physical response discussed earlier. Importantly, this language would continue to drive notions of authentic jazz performance in styles where polyphonic improvisation was absent. Such continuity appears to place more weight on underlying rhythmic spontaneity than it does on improvisation as the lifeblood of the genre, or at the very least points to inter-connected aesthetic concepts driving authenticity judgements in both traditional and modern jazz camps.

Indeed, many critics supporting modern jazz in the 1930s and 1940s coalesced behind the idea that African-American music could incorporate devices from outside the African-American cultural set as long as it maintained the primacy of African/Dionysian rhythmic aesthetics. Barry Ulanov’s support of modern swing is made in these terms (below):

Confusion surrounded the use of the two terms ‘swing’ and ‘jazz’ as soon as swing became popularly accepted. There was one school of thought, of which critic Robert Goffin was the most rabid exponent, that believed ‘swing’ denoted the commercialization and prostitution of real jazz, that it had partly supplanted jazz, and that it consisted only of written arrangements played by big bands, whereas jazz consisted only of improvised music played by small bands. Another school of thought held that good jazz, whether played by one man or twenty, must have the fundamental quality of swing, a swinging beat, and could therefore legitimately be called swing, and that despite the different constructions put on the two terms by some critics, both words stood for the same musical idiom, the same rhythmic and harmonic characteristics, the same use of syncopation (Ulanov, 1952, p. 195).

Importantly, in an earlier passage of his book A History of Jazz in America, Ulanov credits African lineage for the germ of rhythmic affect that would evolve into the syncopations discussed above, stating:

One cannot and one should not, in the heat of forensic rage, dismiss the real contribution of African Negroes to jazz. Without looking to the mysterious reaches of the unconscious, one can find a considerable administration of rhythmic discipline imposed by Southern Negroes, whether of the first or third or fifth American generation, upon the music they found around them” (Ulanov, 1952, p. 12).

Such a statement is noteworthy in that it rejects both genetic transmission and the persistent trends of African essentialism while paradoxically embracing, as Afro-Modernist scholars do, a certain core debt to African musical practices.

Similarly, Sidney Finkelstein’s Jazz: A People’s Music (1948) belies occasionally incongruent conceptions of the genre. Finkelstein and Ulanov parallel each other in their rejection of genetic myths and their strong stance against African essentialism, but where Ulanov concedes ground in the area of rhythm, Finkelstein stands firm. He writes:

It is probably the drum and percussion battery that, more than any other single jazz instrument, has inspired the African theories of jazz. But intricate drum and percussion patterns are to be found in all tribal music, in India, the South Seas, Central Asia and the Americas. And while the African use of drums is magnificent in its own right, there is a basic difference between it and the jazz drum… Characteristic of jazz drumming, and not found in African, is the surprise, the kidding, the serious- comic spirit which pervades all jazz music and creates some of its most powerful emotional effects (Finkelstein, 1948, p. 41).

Even though there is similarity between Finkelstein’s description of jazz drumming and Gates’ (1988) reading of the role of Singifyin(g) in the African diaspora, his comment sets up a clear boundary between what is to be considered African and what is to be considered part of African-American artistic expression. And while Finkelstein is able to derail the lineage of African influence by airing his views on the function of rhythm in African music his description of rhythmic effects themselves are put forth in the same essentialist terms utilized

throughout the preceding discourse.14 Take for example an early sentence attempting to define the jazz genre: “Jazz is often a music of great basic simplicity, and gripping rhythmic force” (Finkelstein, 1948, p. 24). Here, use of the term “gripping rhythmic force” as a defining element of the jazz style perpetuates both the central role of rhythm in the genre as well as its ability to induce physical hold. Later comments on the collective rhythm section echo the importance of Dionysian rhythmic qualities identified across the spectrum of critiques discussed thus far:

The most splendid and new percussive achievement of jazz was its collective rhythm section, powerful in its beat yet constantly varying in timbre… Through it jazz has restored rhythm as a powerful, independent musical voice (Finkelstein, 1948, p. 44).

Implicit in both of these comments is that jazz rhythm is not a subtle rhythmic effect; it is both pervasive and “powerful,” always changing, and a key component of the jazz sound. While Finkelstein denies a link to the African continent, he maintains that rhythm plays a symbolic role in articulating African-American musical difference, where African-American music is viewed as an arena open to contributions from people of all races.

As the works of Panassié (1942), Goffin (1944), Finkelstein (1948) and Ulanov (1952) show, the legacy of theorizing rhythmic difference in African-American musical production was well entrenched across the spectrum of jazz politics by the 1950s. The impact of this understanding appears to have been two fold. On a base level, rhythmic spontaneity and prominence was held to be a ubiquitous part of the jazz sound championed by critics of all camps. On a secondary level, an emotive response seen as linked to Dionysian rhythmic effects became a crucial part of deciphering authenticity. As Gioia (1989) reflects on criticism from the following decades:

Performances which fail to attain the frenetic and energetic ideal postulated by the stereotype are labelled “cerebral”- one of the most damning adjectives in the critical

14 Finkelstein detaches jazz drumming from African influence in the following statement: “Even when used as an accompaniment to dance or chant, African drumming, for all its intricacy of two or three rhythms at once, has a single minded compelling beat, aimed at fusing all listeners into one mind and one movement. Jazz drumming is much more modern… the group is made up of more individual, thinking minds” (Finkelstein, 1948, p. 41). 97

vocabulary of jazz writers. In contrast, the most excessive demonstrations of musical chaos are often lavishly praised so long as they are done “with feeling” (Gioia 1989, 138).

Therefore, artists composing music that either neglected rhythmic spontaneity, masked rhythmic spontaneity or elicited a response outside the Dionysian realm despite rhythmic spontaneity risked having their works assessed as being conceived of outside the African- American expressive realm. All three routes to inauthentic performance are problematic in that they emerge from a body of criticism more concerned with sonic representations of race than the processes involved in the composition of African-American musical works themselves. Certainly the works of Finkelstein (1948) and Ulanov (1952) endeavour to free themselves from this history of racialised discourse but the weight bestowed on rhythm, even in these progressive studies, appears indebted to older ideas regarding African/Dionysian performance aesthetics. Reading the reception of Lewis’ syncretic works during the 1950s with the critical trends of the previous thirty years in mind allows us to see the impact of non-Dionysian language on perceptions of overall cultural alignment.

3.2 The Effect of Essentialist Rhythmic Discourse on Lewis’ Portrayal in the Popular Press The circumstance of Lewis’ initial popular press coverage seems to have marked his work as rhythmically different from the African/Dionysian paradigm from the outset. Replacing pianist Thelonious Monk in 1946, Lewis first gained prominence in the jazz world as a pianist and arranger for Dizzy Gillespie’s big band. Importantly, this collaboration often plays a quieter role in discussions of Gillespie’s 1946-1947 ensemble than that of Gillespie and his Cuban percussionist Chano Pozo. Moreno (2004) points to the latter relationship as an attempt by Gillespie to engage with the “North American modernist vanguard,” realized in this case through the pairing of jazz and Latin rhythms (Moreno, 2004, p. 98). This brand of syncretism can be seen to align with the 1940s Afro-Modernist advancement strategies of Thornhill and Davis discussed in Chapter Two given the increasing number of Caribbean immigrants and the growing popularity of Latin American music in New York during the 1940s (discussed at length by Korrol, 1983). In addition, paralleling the critical trends outlined in the first part of this chapter, documentation of this burgeoning music scene tended to essentialise the rhythmic elements of Rhumba and related Latin American musical styles, as both genres, like jazz, were 98

seen to extend from musical practices on the African continent. This is evident in Bill Gottlieb’ decoding of Rhumba in 1947 as a product of the “same African roots” as jazz, evident in its rhythmic presentation: “Their music, for rhythmic fire, lush coloring and jazz feel, can hold its own with the products of the best hot orchestras” (Gottlieb, 1947a, p. 10). In turn, some practitioners described the link with Africa as being even more authentic than the one shared by jazz. Cuban bandleader Machito15 posited that “rhumba rhythms are both more primitive and more rhythmically complex than jazz” as a result of Caribbean music’s resistance to dilution: “We play this way in Cuba for over a hundred years” (Gottlieb, 1947a, p. 10). Regardless of the veracity of such a statement, depictions of Latin rhythm as closely tied to African vernacular music during the late 1940s may have cast Lewis’ compositions for the Gillespie ensemble on which Pozo did not play as somewhat removed from the African- American expressive realm.

At the very least Lewis’ interest in Western art music allowed Gillespie to position the two styles of composition against each other. In the lead up to his 1947 Carnegie Hall concert, the Latin and Classical sounds of Gillespie’s program feature prominently in Down Beat’s coverage, suggesting their inclusion in a press release. After a brief overview of the event, the magazine foreshadows the premier of two major works, one an “Afro Cuban Suite” utilizing both a “conga and bongo drummer” and the other an unnamed “concerto” by John Lewis (“Be-Bop to Carnegie Hall,” 1947, p. 5). Follow-up reviews comment on the same pieces, setting one in the Dionysian realm via a discussion of rhythmic elements and the other in the classical realm through a discussion of form. An assessment of the Afro Cuban Suite, conventionally referred to by the name of its two movements, Cubano Be, Cubano Bop (1947),16 takes place under the text subtitle “powerful, but rough” and links audience approval to its rhythmic character:

The crowd unquestionably liked the Cubano Bop number with its added bongo and congo [sic] drum soloists the best. Illustrating a point the Beat has often made that there is much jazz can pick up on from the South American and Afro-Cuban rhythm styles (Levin, 1947, p. 1).

15 Machito was born Francisco Raúl Gutiérrez Grillo in Havana, Cuba on 16 of February 1908 (Child, 1999, p. 801). 16 The work was written by George Russell for the Gillespie ensemble in 1947 although Monson notes in her discussion of the work “the idea for the project came from Gillespie” (Monson, 1998, p. 165). 99

In contrast, Lewis’ work Toccata for Trumpet (1947) is discussed mostly in terms of its intellectual allure: “Formalistically, the Toccata appealed to me: Lewis displayed an economy of means and an interesting series of ideas that make him a man to be watched in the writing field” (Levin, 1947, p. 1).

Levin’s comments regarding the formal elements of the Toccata are by no means erroneous. Lewis had begun courses for a Masters Degree in Music at the Manhattan School of Music in early 1946 and his composition appears to reflect this influence, breaking with the formal conventions of the blues and AABA bebop contrafacts (the work is through-composed and stands in contrast to the riff driven Cubano Be, Cubano Bop (1947) on which Pozo performs). However, Gillespie’s 22 bar improvisation over an ascending saxophone riff and fast swinging rhythm section echoes the Dionysian performance aesthetic viewed by many as central to authentic jazz production. While it is understandable that this element of the composition receives little focus in Levin’s discussion as it appears to have been intentionally masked by the composed parts of the work, it is significant to note that the language of form and structure that comprises Levin’s assessment would soon overshadow discussion of the vernacular in Lewis’ works even when the composer articulated a grounding in Dionysian rhythmic aesthetics.

If, as discussed by Geneva Smitherman (1977) in Chapter One, Signifyin(g) requires both encoding by the artist and decoding by the audience, then Lewis’ subsequent explanation of rhythmic aesthetics in the pages of Down Beat demonstrates less than total success in activating the rhetorical trope. That said, it is worth repeating that the Afro-Modernist agenda laid out by Lewis in his 1953 interview with Nat Hentoff (discussed in Chapter Two) appears, at the very least, to speak to compositional intent. A closer look at this interview in the context of critical trends reveals the extent to which the formal elements of Lewis’ compositions impacted discussion of its rhythmic underpinning.

Following the 1953 mid year release of the MJQ’s first album, The Modern Jazz Quartet, Hentoff ran two “Counterpoint” articles in which Lewis was cast as a “particularly perceptive experimenter” in “extended form” (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26). The recording inspiring such contextualisation included Lewis’ first fugal work, Vendome (1952), and an arrangement of

100

Jerome Kern’s All the Things You Are (1939) in which the piano and vibraphone introduce the work’s theme over a composed interplay of bass and cymbal rolls. As stated previously, Lewis was quick to point out that these structural devices were employed in an effort to “widen” the jazz audience, but then, in a less frequently discussed part of the interview, Lewis steers the conversation towards the rhythmic concepts he views as driving the group’s success:

Take rhythm. Any kind of improvisation – unless you’re playing by yourself – is going to be more or less contrapuntal. But in jazz, except for the best Dixieland people and a few others, there’s often been a rhythmic dullness. The bass, drums, and piano should do more than simply supply chords and a basic pulsation. Now Kenny has never been caught in this rut. He doesn’t get stuck with any one rhythmic pattern. In our work we also stimulate counterpoint rhythmically this way: when someone is playing a solo, the other instruments will play ideas in the background, ideas subordinate to those of the soloist. They don’t slip back and just keep time (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26).

Here, Lewis echoes the essentialist rhetoric of jazz critics from both the modernist and traditionalist camps by demonstrating the continued importance of spontaneous, improvisational and interactive rhythmic effects. Other comments such as “all the instruments in our group supply rhythmic propulsion… Anybody who plays on whatever instrument must supply rhythmic propulsion [italics in original]” (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26) articulates the physical hold component of the essentialist argument, albeit in more subtle and musical terms than those surveyed in the first part of this chapter. Such comments can be seen to temper Hentoff’s questioning around form, framing Lewis’ work for the Down Beat audience as authentic jazz in the established language of authenticity: Dionysian rhythmic affect. And while Hentoff clearly sees value in Lewis’ descriptions (they are, after all, the published excerpts of a longer interview), his follow up piece engages even less with the vernacular side of Lewis’ syncretic process.

Interpreting Hentoff’s second “Counterpoint” column, published a month later in January 1954, is a complex process because much of his discussion is guided by notes provided by Lewis but the text itself is devoid of direct quotes. Such a reporting results in ambiguous

101

expression, making it nearly impossible to separate the critic’s thoughts from Lewis’ own ideas. Hentoff’s discussion of The Queen’s Fancy (1953) provides a pertinent example of this problem:

The Queen’s Fancy shows another simple, effective combination of form and improvised spontaneity. This begins with a written five measure theme, sort of a fanfare. After it comes a new contrasting idea in a kind of three-part song form that’s treated in a contrapuntal fashion (Hentoff, 1954b, p. 27).

The first sentence of this quote can almost definitively be attributed to Hentoff as it is more or less an expression of opinion but the third sentence, discussing a “kind of three-part song form… in contrapuntal fashion,” seems to be made up of language from outside Hentoff’s specialty area. Complicating this reading is the fact that the language embedded in the third sentence suggests interpretation (Hentoff’s qualification “in a kind of” speaks to this point). It does seem likely that Lewis’ notes included a good deal of information regarding European structural devices, as Hentoff’s earlier discussion of Vendome begins with a description of the composed “subject” “answer” and “countersubject” before surveying the work’s sectional divisions using terminology such as “episodes” and “expositions” (Hentoff, 1954b, p. 27). But Hentoff’s discussion of the function or purpose of these devices cannot be read as a direct reflection of Lewis’ intent given the article’s imbedded subjectivity.

Indeed, the difference between Lewis’ views expressed verbatim in 1953 and Hentoff’s interpretation of Lewis’ notes in 1954 stand slightly askew. In the 1953 interview, Lewis appears to have seen European structure as a way of expanding the reach of the vernacular, so much as the vernacular voice manifests in the rhythmic propulsion and spontaneity he champions. In the 1954 column, Hentoff views the structural elements of Lewis’ work as bringing coherence to the vernacular elements themselves. This latter point is evident in Hentoff’s discussion of Lewis’ work Django (1954):

Milt Jackson will improvise on a chord progression that suggests the first theme but is not exactly like it. On this chord progression Milt will improvise in two keys, and he will be able to play almost anything he feels like therein, because the progression, itself, will be sufficiently reminiscent of the first theme to hold the performance

102

together. This, then, is another way in which the musician can retain his jazz freedom while making it easier for the listener to assimilate the work as a whole, rather than as a disjointed series of solos (Hentoff, 1954b, p. 27).

Here Hentoff focuses on the ease of engagement repeated chord progressions will provide and although this type of organisation does not seem to differ greatly from established jazz conventions, its integration into a discussion that begins with a fugal analysis has the effect of making Django’s structure appear different from jazz norms. Furthermore, it is this formal difference that is depicted as aiding the listener’s understanding of Jackson’s improvised solo. Such discussion crowds out comment on the improvisation itself in terms of melodic and rhythmic content and leads to an overall critical assessment in which the value of the work is tied almost exclusively to its structural components.

There is certainly good reason for Hentoff to have interpreted the work in this way. In addition to the notes provided by Lewis, the composer’s 1953 comment cited in Chapter Two (“If there is more of a reason for what’s going on, there’ll be more overall sense, and, therefore, more interest for the listener” (Hentoff, 1953, p. 26)) appears to beg a structural focus. Yet this comment was followed in 1953 by Lewis’ discussion of the importance of Dionysian rhythmic effects. Taken together with Lewis’ marketing approach analysed in Chapter Two allows for the interview to now be contextualized as a purposeful juxtapositioning of both European and vernacular influences aimed at simultaneously expanding and stewarding Lewis’ appeal. Hentoff’s focus on what would have been perceived as the novel element of this syncretism, European formal devices, aids one side of this marketing strategy. At the same time, it foreshadows a style of assessment in which discussion of structure and control in Lewis’ compositions would gradually limit alternate readings.

Part of the responsibility for this trend lies with Lewis himself. Despite the dissonance between Lewis’ 1953 interview and Hentoff’s 1954 column, Lewis did not immediately counter the claim that value in his work was to be primarily found in the structural realm. If anything, Lewis exploited this reading as he pushed for venue expansion along the lines discussed in Chapter Two. As a result, critics were undeterred in essentialising the structural components of his compositions as an inversion of the racialised rhythm motifs tied to authentic jazz

103

performance. Thus an opposing dyad of formal structure and Dionysian effect fitting neatly into Gioia’s (1989) “cerebral” versus “with feeling” paradigm emerged, playing out in depictions of Lewis’ works as intellectual artifacts more aligned with European culture than with AfroAmerica. Hentoff’s assessment of the 1955 Modern Jazz Society concert at Town Hall is indicative of this style of criticism, once again praising Lewis’ ability to build improvisations into a work “so that the listener was left not with fragments but with an integrated experience” while linking such design to a larger perception of cerebrality:

No one combines his quality of touch (even better than Wilson’s and equal to Halberg’s if not Tatum’s), his classical (in the denotative sense) taste, and his ability to swing deeply while appearing so quietly fastidious (Hentoff, 1955b, p. 8).

The urbane qualities of control (“quietly fastidious”) and European alignment (“classical taste”) highlighted in this assessment are echoed in Ralph Gleason’s review of a MJQ performance in San Francisco:

The music of the MJQ is fragile, to be sure; it is delicate, too, but it is never dull… to those who will listen, there are moments when the sound these four men make has the same shattering effect as a line by Donne or a sketch by Picasso (Gleason, 1956, p. 18).

Here Gleason aligns Lewis’ work broadly with European artefacts through its rejection of Dionysian principles. He then makes the connection specific through the inclusion of Donne and Picasso as parallel artistic figures. John Wilson’s coverage of the MJQ’s 1958 tour in the New York Times demonstrates similar European alignment; only this time specific artistic figures are replaced with the broader term “European intellectuals”:

The restrained, rather intellectual jazz played by the Quartet (piano, vibraharp, bass, drums) was felt by some observers to have proved more accessible than other types of jazz might be to the older European intellectuals (Wilson, 1958a, p. X9).

104

Importantly, Wilson’s comments are followed by a discussion of Lewis’ use of “old forms” such as the “canon” and “fugue” (Wilson, 1958a, p. X9). This descriptive milieu, in which adjectives regarding intellect merge with subjects of European culture in the evaluation of compositions praised for their formal elements demonstrates how drawing attention away from vernacular elements allowed Lewis’ music to avert primitivist portrayals and garner ascriptions of intelligence and discipline. While discussion of the vernacular was not totally lost (Gleason, for instance writes “the blues they have are the bluest” (Gleason, 1956, p. 18); Hentoff refers to Milt Jackson’s ability to “swing” as a positive performative element (Hentoff, 1955b, p. 8)), it is considerably downplayed in the summative statements regarding the group’s ethos above. Such portrayal enabled an Afro-Modernist recruitment strategy but carried with it the unfortunate effect of resurrecting attitudes regarding perceived behavioural differences between African-American cultural participants and Western artists.

One does not need to look far to see an overlap in the language used to describe the music of the MJQ and the behaviour of its members. In 1957, John Wilson of the New York Times reported that the Modern Jazz Quartet had played their concert at Carnegie Hall with “impeccable dignity” (Wilson, 1957b, p. 27); in the same year Ralph Gleason echoed Wilson’s comments but made the links to behaviour more overt, stating the MJQ was among “very few jazz artists who know how to walk out onto a stage, how to take a bow and how to lend dignity and stature to their art by their appearance” (Gleason 1957, 53); and in an earlier assessment of the group’s European tour in 1956, Italian critic Arrigo Polillo had cited what Nat Hentoff paraphrased as the “sensitive and responsible attitude of the MJQ” (Hentoff 1957, 16).

Such comments contrast normalised popular press depictions of jazz musicians during the late 1940s, a portrayal derived in part from what Lopes (2002) refers to as perceptions of the “hipster cult” (Lopes, 2002, p. 210). The “hipster,” in Lopes’ view, refers to a social identity in which artistic disposition lies paramount and often manifests as eccentricity in dress and behaviour. The construct emerged in tandem with the bebop genre and many practitioners embraced the label as a way of affirming their desire to pioneer something new without abandoning an underlying sense of unity. As Dizzy Gillespie writes:

105

A ‘square’ and a ‘lame’ were synonymous, and they accepted the complete life-style, including the music dictated by the establishment. They rejected the concept of creative alternatives, and they were just the opposite of ‘hip,’ which meant ‘in the know,’ ‘wise,’ or one with ‘knowledge’ of life and how to live… They were apathetic to, or actively opposed to, almost everything we stood for, like intelligence, sensitivity, creativity, change, wisdom, joy, courage, peace, togetherness, and integrity (Gillespie, 1979, p. 297).

Admirable as Gillespie’s reflections are, the popular press frequently conflated the anti- establishment music related to this mentality with behavioural eccentricities in a way that mirrored the type of racialised discourse surveyed by Radano (2003). As Ingrid Monson notes:

When transposed downtown and scrutinized by mixed audiences and the press, the stylistic aspects of the musical scene – the clothes, the hats, the talk, the goatees, the drugs – would breathe life into the very primitivist presumptions that the new modern musical movement, with its commitment to art, sophistication and social protest most deeply opposed (Monson, 1995, pp. 411-2).

Overlap between discussion of the hipster culture and behavioural depictions in which artists were casts as slaves to their inner workings permeate popular press writing. Echoing the language discussed at the beginning of this chapter, Time magazine drew on racially loaded language in its description of bebop as a world full of “feverish practitioners” dressed in “berets, goatees and green-tinted horn-rimmed glasses” (“How Deaf Can You Get,” 1948, p. 74). A Down Beat article focusing on pianist Thelonious Monk in turn begins with a description of his hipster dress, “goatee, beret and heavy shell glasses,” before transitioning to a discussion of artistic temperament that implicitly questions his professionalism:

He’s so absorbed in his task he’s almost mysterious. Maybe he’s on his way to meet you. An idea comes to him. He begins to work on it. Mop! Two days go by and he’s still at it. He’s forgotten all about you and everything else but that idea (Gottlieb, 1947b, p. 2).

106

Notwithstanding Lopes (2002) and Monson’s (1995) claims, this overt return to the motif of innate drive seems to have arisen out of a plurality of causes. As shown here anti-establishment dress and behaviour played a part, but as several further quotes in the popular press indicate, spontaneity and dissonance in the music itself may have proved just as important in driving critics back to the behavioural clichés associated with “Hot” jazz criticism. In 1946, Time ran an article referring to bebop as “hot jazz overheated,” an essentially rhythmic reference, before continuing on with a description that aligned the style with “bawdiness” (“Be-Bop, Be- Bopped,” 1946, p. 52). Similarly, the speed and dissonance of melodic solo lines in the genre drove Carter Hartman of the New York Times to label the music “semi controlled frenzy” (Hartman, 1948, p. X13). The apparent complexity of sorting out exactly how primitivist portrayals continued to infiltrate readings of bebop does not however negate the fact that such depictions affirmed a rift between the behaviour of the MJQ and that of the larger bebop community.

In many ways Lewis attempted to bridge this perceived behavioural gap in interviews during the late 1950s. In response to Polillo’s comments about “responsibility,” Lewis was compelled to point out that unreliability and a lack of social intelligence were not necessarily synonymous with jazz: “I appreciate Arrigo saying that about us. But we’re grown men… and we conduct ourselves as grown men. There’s nothing remarkable about that” (Hentoff, 1957a, p. 16). On the flip side, when asked if there would be a place in the MJQ for the late bebop saxophonist Charlie Parker, an individual who suffered a well-known battle with narcotics, Lewis replied “Of course… The talent was there… I don’t sit in judgement of the man” (Sachs, 1959, p. 19). Playing down behaviour/performance stereotypes in this way may have addressed moments of overstepping in the press but not the cause of the assessments themselves.

Lewis’ continued reliance on syncretic practices and his drive to expand jazz performance venues paralleled increasingly broader comments distancing him from African-American culture. Ed Sach’s 1959 interview points to such isolation through its inclusion of a comment regarding Lewis’ social attitude put forth by an anonymous source:

John is quite free of the anti white feeling that in smaller or larger parts is fairly prevalent among many Negro musicians. One reason may be that he ran into

107

practically no race friction in New Mexico while he was growing up. Another is that by now, he is so internationalized, that he has experienced and enjoyed people and social contexts in many areas where race doesn’t count (Sachs 1959, 19).

While the anonymity of Sach’s source makes it difficult to contextualise the comment, the clear division between the larger body of “Negro musicians” and Lewis’ behaviour echoes the pigeonholing of the popular press. In addition, the location of the comment within the article, immediately preceding a description of Lewis’ travels to Europe and “constantly favourable” (Sachs, 1959, p. 19) critical reception on the Continent, seems to connect European success with cultural realignment. It is Lewis’ “internationalization,” it would seem through this pairing, that allows him to effectively deliver his music to a European audience without being caught up in the behavioural trappings of African-American culture. John Wilson goes even further in the New York Times, reintroducing the genetic paradigm and pointing to Lewis’ musical “shortcomings” as evidence of biological inferiority.

Those who were accustomed to the casual rough-and-tumble of the old-time jazz musicians sneered at the solemn and formal appearance of the quartet and called them ‘bearded undertakers.’… They accused the group’s musical director and pianist John Lewis, of stifling Mr. Jackson (who was a major figure of the bop period in the Nineteen Forties) and of being devoid of any jazz instinct himself” (Wilson, 1960, p. 47).

The return to the idea of “jazz instinct” in this quote via a discussion of non-aligned hipster dress and a reference to musical control (the “stifling” of Jackson) demonstrates how the web of associations discussed throughout this chapter just as easily combine to strip an artist of perceived biological coding as they do to affirm perceived biological predisposition. In this argument, Lewis is implicitly connected to the instinct-less “whites” of Goffin’s genetic paradigm (Goffin, 1944, p. 167) by way of musical style. Later positioning of Lewis and vibraphonist Milt Jackson as opposing forces in the quartet would further revive criticism based on “primitivist” assumptions.

108

This is particularly evident in the way Jackson and Lewis are compared in a 1961 concert summary written by Dom De Micheal. De Micheal begins by discussing the strict attention to detail involved in the concert preparations (the cleaning of the piano keys by Lewis; the tuxedos worn by the group members), before going on to claim that these elements add up to the elimination of “visual distraction” during MJQ performances (De Micheal, 1961, p. 18). In reference to Milt Jackson however, De Micheal views resistance to this agenda:

At the Ann Arbor concert, he appeared to be following the rules, but as the evening progressed, the rules seemed to go out the window. The tail of his tuxedo jacket, which had been unbuttoned from the first, flapped as his movements became more animated. His feet spread farther apart. His wrists, undulating as if on ball-bearings, were graceful blurs as he guided the mallets over his vibraharp. His head bent farther down. When he played a phrase that seemed to delight him, he looked out over his glasses to see if what he had played had struck anyone else as it had him. When it was necessary to move to the upper octave of his instrument, he made a discreet leap as he moved. His solo over, he retired to the background, but, where before he had stood solemnly, his stance was now relaxed. Smiling, he nodded his head slightly in tempo, his fingers snapping occasionally when the other three played in an especially strong manner (De Micheal 1961, 18).

While De Micheal’s comments are not as overt as earlier “primitivists,” they are striking in their intense focus on Jackson’s physical behaviour. Not only do they set Jackson apart from the rest of the group, they do so from the perspective that Jackson is incapable of adapting to the social norms adopted by the MJQ. This separation creates the context for viewing Jackson’s playing as more authentically grounded in the jazz tradition as it evinces the type of behaviour associated with Dionysian performance. Lewis’ behaviour is in turn depicted as culturally distinct, evident in De Micheal’s comments regarding Lewis’ response to an enthusiastic fan requesting one of Jackson’s blues compositions in the middle the concert.

The concert’s finale was given over to a several-part composition written by Lewis, who announced and explained each part. Before the third section, as he was

109

explaining his attractive, but complex, piece of work, a man in the first row shouted, “Bags’ Groove!” Lewis recoiled as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown in his face. He replied with dignity, “We’ll play that later” (De Micheal, 1961, p. 18).

Lewis’ control and “dignity,” as described by De Micheal, contrast the unpredictability and emotion of Jackson’s on-stage behaviour. In a telling decoding of this difference, De Micheal eventually enters into a comparison of musical styles, writing:

There is much of contrast between Lewis and Jackson. It can be seen in the music they write. Jackson’s is usually more simple and takes the form of blues or the 32-bar song much more often than does Lewis’. While Lewis appears to like formality, Jackson does not. “I don’t feel comfortable in formal clothes or formal settings,” he said. “I dig being completely relaxed – although music has always been a serious thing with me” (De Micheal, 1961, p. 20)

In De Micheal’s article, what begins as a discussion of behavioural difference ends up being a discussion of compositional form, thus confirming the fact that perspectives on musical aesthetics were occasionally linked to behavioural depictions even in musical styles far removed from New Orleans polyphonic improvisation. Jackson’s apparent aversion to the strictures of form is shown to align with the qualities of spontaneity identified in his behaviour just as Lewis’ penchant for formality is seen to be congruent with his austere on-stage attitude. Critical trends essentialising African/Dionysian characteristics are likely responsible for the persistence of such categorization. Just as jazz musicians utilising overt Dionysian rhythmic effects were cast in the primitive realm, those who chose alternate routes to performance were viewed as operating from outside African-American culture. Although Lewis had spoken about his reliance on vernacular rhythmic ideas early on, failure to continually articulate this aspect of his work to the popular press allowed perspectives on the novel elements of his compositions, their formal components, to overshadow discussion of the vernacular. Such broad strokes conflated Lewis’ dimensions as a composer to an easily articulated archetype, a stigma that persisted until the time of his death in 2001.

110

The summative statements of his obituaries speak to this point. In his remembrance for Down Beat, Fred Bouchard drew on a European allusion rather than jazz comparisons in his comment that “like his lifelong inspiration J.S. Bach, Lewis consistently exhibited meticulous craftsmanship” (Bouchard, 2001, p. 22). Echoing Bouchard’s allusion to Bach, Lewis’ New York Times obituary claimed that the “MJQ’s music was largely a reflection of Mr. Lewis’s classical training... Lewis drew as much inspiration from Bach as he did from Gillespie,” a comment that seemed to indicate the composer was at least equally split between European and vernacular realms (Keepnews, 2001, p. B9). A year later Bouchard would however push the allusion to Bach even further, not only claiming that Bach was Lewis’ “lifelong inspiration” but that like Bach, “Lewis drew on a wellspring of sublime melodic invention, and set it in meticulously crafted orchestrations, often as fresh as Bach inventions” (Bouchard, 2002, p. 28). Finally, in Billboard, Lewis was described as having “a penchant for longer, classical forms such as the fugue” and running a group that in implied contrast to other jazz ensembles of the 1950s, contained “no horns, which meant no spit, no sweat and no screaming” (Goldberg, 2002, p. 26). The location of value in these assessments falls squarely on the alignment of formal elements in Lewis’ works with a European compositional ethos. With the limitations of critical trends in the popular press now identified, such evaluations must be read with some scepticism.

For as shown here, essentialisation of form and rhythm respectively places artificial limits on cultural identity. It falsely articulates the claim of predisposition and locks the boundaries of authenticity to a limited set of musical tropes. In 1957, when Lewis was asked why he continued to operate “entirely” within the jazz realm, he apparently replied “incredulously,” stating: “This is where I have to be. I have no desire to be any place else. There has never been any question in my mind about that” (Hentoff, 1957a, p. 15). Such a statement stands at odds with popular press depictions and raises the question: Is it possible that this is an honest statement given the syncretic sound of many of Lewis’ works? If the essentialisation observed in the press is discarded and the economic strategies of the post-big band jazz world are taken into account, an affirmative response to the question seems possible. The survey and analysis of his works that follow in the next chapter operate from this standpoint, using an Afro- Modernist argument to contextualise the interaction of disparate musical tropes, adding nuance to our current understanding of Lewis’ music.

111

Chapter 4 Survey of Lewis’ Works and Musical Analysis of Afro-Modernist Strategies (1952-1962)

This thesis argues that Lewis can be seen to have widened the net of his commercial appeal while expanding the presence of vernacular devices in the broader music market of the 1950s by Signifyin(g) on both Western art music sonorities and, to a lesser extent, the conventions of recorded media itself. In terms of the former, this musical play often began with the evocation of Western art music expectation, usually arrived at through a combination of the use of straight rhythmic time; melodies devoid of blues sonorities; fanfares; composed counterpoint and composition titles referring to European forms. These expectations were then teased in a myriad of ways, including the introduction of blues sonorities into composed counterpoint; the use of improvised counterpoint; the use of improvisation to meet relevant Western art music criteria in the exposition and episode sections of “fugues” and the reinterpretation of formal strictures implied by multi-movement formats on the basis of vernacular conventions. This mimicry of Western art music through the innovative implementation of vernacular devices speaks to the very heart of the Signifyin(g) process outlined by Gates (1988) and explained in Chapter One. In terms of semantic play on the conventions of recorded media, Lewis’ early 1950s recordings went against the trend of lengthening tracks embraced by jazz musicians like Miles Davis (see the album Dig (1951)) and Lennie Tristano (see the album Wow (1952)) that emerged as the recording industry switched from 78-rpm to 331/3 rpm discs in the late 1940s, maintaining instead the 3-minute limitation of the 78-rpm format that had prevailed during the bebop era. This disconnect is important in that Lewis, at least in a temporal sense, was able to stay closer to bebop recording practices in his initial recordings than his contemporaries while simultaneously infusing his music with Western art music tropes – in effect packaging new material in the shell of the familiar as he strove to position his works in a shifting market place.

An investigation into these compositional and organizational approaches is not without its limitations and it should be expressed at the outset that the analyses in this chapter are concerned with works produced by Lewis in connection with the MJQ, as well as other ensembles, during the first decade of his ensemble leadership only (1952-1962). A rationale for focusing on the first decade arises as a condition of two interrelated factors. The first is that the historical context established in Chapters Two and Three of this thesis is exclusively limited to the fleshing out of a promotional strategy connected to the economic and social 112

realities of the 1950s as much as to potential artistic considerations. The second is that while minor economic shifts and compositional responses did occur within the first ten years of Lewis’ ensemble leadership, a major conceptual change in the jazz market was not seen until the emergence of the Black Arts Movement of the early 1960s. It is this latter fact that makes it impossible to incorporate Lewis’ later 1960s works into the same economic paradigm that contains his 1950s oeuvre.

For as Lopes (2002) explains, a broad embrace of “Black Nationalism” intrinsically linked to the energy of the Civil Rights movement resulted in the overt use of vernacular tropes in musical works during the 1960s, thus positioning a discrete collection of artists against the “Cool” and “Third Stream” cohort (Lopes, 2002, p. 251). Overt vernacular troping had existed in the early 1950s in the form of R&B, yet alignment of these tropes with jazz art music did not occur until the mid 1950s, notably in the work of Charles Mingus (Saul, 2003, pp. 164-5), and the full economic implications of such a shift were not widely acknowledged until the early 1960s. In part, the rapid economic advancement of African-American vernacular music in the 1960s can be linked to what Omi & Winant (1994) describe as the “rearticulation of black collective subjectivity,” an ideological shift embraced by some Civil Rights leaders in which African-American collective identity was encouraged, contrasting the dominant Civil Rights paradigm of the 1950s in which “race-thinking” was viewed as working against equality (Omi & Winant, 1994, p. 96-100). In line with this concept, trumpeter Nat Adderley commented on the economic benefits of conceiving music as inherently racial in a 1961 Down Beat interview:

If the term soul music has a leaning toward meaning Negro music, then the term cool or west coast music had a leaning toward being white. And the whole thing behind this thing is that there were a whole lot of guys – a whole lot of good Negro musicians who weren’t working very regularly when the vogue was the cool west coast sound, because everybody who was cool and west coast was white. So you get a thing 10 years later that is a big commercial gimmick, soul music, and everybody involved is colored… Now we got something to go; we got soul music. And finally, I’ve got a job (“Inside the Cannonball Adderley Quintet,” 1961, p. 22).

113

Lewis’ position in Adderley’s paradigm would have been that of a “white” Cool or West coast artist. And while Lewis’ 1960s projects did not ignore the new economic opportunities associated with embracing the vernacular (indeed, the 1964 release of the MJQ album The Sheriff is depicted in the press as being “as close to a jamming date” as anything the MJQ had previously recorded (Pekar, 1964, p. 28)), he was understandably reluctant to abandon the professional connections he had made with orchestras and venue management, particularly in Europe, under the banner of Western art music/jazz fusion.

Several projects in the early 1960s can be seen to support this observation. In 1960, Lewis arranged several pieces for and performed with the Stuttgart Symphony Orchestra during a European tour; in 1961, he wrote a five-movement work for the Italian film A Milanese Story; and in 1962, he formed the Orchestra U.S.A., an ensemble that seemed to recognize the new market terrain but struggled to capitalize on both Lewis’ reputation as a syncretic composer and the growing demand for vernacular heavy jazz. Tension between these goals is evident in Lewis’ expansive description of the Orchestra’s ethos outlined below:

It is… one of the aims of Orchestra U.S.A. to try to participate in this [the jazz] development. Another aim is to do this with an instrumentation which is totally representative of the masterpieces of the instrumental families which have been given to us from past times. Also we wish to show through our group that we are aware of our musical heritage and contribute something to musical culture. We hope also with our instrumentation to program and play other nonjazz literature from both the past and present and future, thereby not limiting our resources (Coss, 1963, p. 20).

Lewis’ overall compositional strategy in the 1960s, both as an individual musician and as part of the MJQ, may indeed draw from this sometimes contradictory list of intentions but the necessary historical scene setting required to make such a claim falls beyond the scope of this thesis. While one decade of output may seem a somewhat arbitrary limitation to place on a revisionist study, the increasing militancy of the black power movement in the years immediately preceding the passage of the Civil Rights act by the United States Congress in 1964 (Haines, 1984, p. 38) and its residual impact on the jazz art world (Hersch, 1996, p. 117) makes it difficult to discuss the treatment of vernacular tropes in the later 1960s without a

114

lengthy exploration of the radically new social and political landscape. Such investigation would however form a natural extension of the analysis undertaken in this chapter.

4.1 Survey of Lewis’ Works: 1952 – 1962 Before decoding Afro-Modernist strategies during the 1952-1962 compositional period, it is useful to establish in general terms the arch of Lewis’ oeuvre during this timeframe. Such a survey allows for the cataloguing of works performed by the MJQ as well as works written and performed by Lewis with other ensembles, and demonstrates clearly that Lewis’ primary compositional vehicle during the 1950s was the MJQ itself. In addition, it allows for the delineation of compositional approaches with double-voiced aspects, the technical elements of which are discussed using transcriptions and scores in the second half of this chapter.

It should be noted that this survey conceives of Lewis’ work primarily in terms of commercial recordings, although recordings of live performances along with physical scores inform discussion as well. Priestly (1988) has pointed out the limitations of viewing jazz recordings as primary texts, given both the “technological constrictions of the medium” and the fact that a reliance on recordings forces historians to only write about what has been either commercially or privately produced (Priestly, 1988, p. ix). Although I acknowledge much is missed in an assessment based solely on recorded material, the role of commercial recordings in providing financial stability to the 1950s jazz market (Lopes, 2002, p. 229) drives the uplift process to such an extent, I believe the media can be rightly located as the foci of an Afro-Modernist investigation.

As discussed in Chapter Two, Lewis and the MJQ made their first commercial recording in 1952 for the label Prestige. The session tracks included two jazz standards, All The Things You Are (1939) by Jerome Kern and Rose of the Rio Grande (1922) by Harry Warren as well as two of Lewis’ own compositions, La Ronde (1952) and Vendome (1952). The subsequent marketing of these tracks involved two initial 78-rpm releases. The first was issued with All The Things You Are on the “A” side and La Ronde on the “B” side and the second with Vendome on the “A” side and Rose of the Rio Grande on the “B” side. All four tracks cut on the December 22, 1952 recording date were then re-released on Prestige LP 7059 under the title Modern Jazz Quartet with Milt Jackson in 1953.

115

Lewis’ syncretic approach in relation to the jazz standards recorded on the December 1952 date is most obvious in his treatment of the “heads,” defined here as the amalgamated unit of the work’s main themes and underlying harmonic form. The convention of beginning a work by playing through the head and then transitioning to an open improvisatory section based on the harmonic structure of the head before returning to a statement of the main theme played over the same or a slightly altered harmonic structure defined much of the bebop era approach to performance (DeVeaux, 1997, p. 203). Lewis’ use of an asymmetrical 7-bar introduction to All The Things You Are which paired cymbal rolls and bass ostinato with a fragmented melody, as well as the composed contrapuntal line played by the bass and piano underneath the vibraphone’s initial thematic statement on Rose of the Rio Grande, set these works apart from the bebop norm from the outset – although not so far apart to make their relationship unrecognizable. After all, short introductions were often included before bebop heads (see Dizzy Gillespie’s Bebop (1945) and Charlie Parker’s Yardbird Suite (1946)) and the general structure of head-solos-head format remained in Lewis’ arrangements, with improvisation continuing to permeate the standards. Indeed, sections of open improvisation occur in over 57% of the bars that comprise All the Things You Are and over 64% of the bars that comprise Rose of the Rio Grande (see tables (a) and (b) in Appendix (c)).

Lewis’ original compositions however involved a greater degree of written music, particularly in relation to parts normally improvised during the bebop era. For instance, when Gary Giddins asked about notated bass parts on early MJQ recordings bassist Percy Heath replied:

Did you think “Vendome” was improvised? John still writes a lot of bass parts, and not only bass but drums. Certain things are written all the way through, but in other compositions there is space in there for me to play. There are other things in the repertoire, holdovers from bebop days, where I’m completely on my own (Quoted in Giddins, 1998, p. 383).

The combination of approaches alluded to by Heath is not directly apparent in the recorded material. Without the use of a score, written or pre-planned parts can generally only be inferred in moments of unison melody, repeated contrapuntal lines in head arrangements and melodic interplay in transitional or bridging passages. Interviews, like the one with Heath cited above,

116

sometimes shed light on the extent of pre-planned material, but given the lack of existent scores for many of Lewis’ works, even this information is limited in informing discussion. The tension that arises as a result of such uncertainty is however linked to Signifyin(g) processes. Improvised parts that sound composed demonstrate a double-voiced structural concept that perpetually begs questions regarding where improvisation and pre-planning/composition begin and end.

An alternate tension-inducing feat is accomplished when improvised vernacular forms are caged within pre-planned or composed sections of Lewis’ works. This can be seen in La Ronde, which begins with an 8-bar composed introduction followed by two 16-bar “A” sections before transitioning to an 8-bar bridging section and a 16-bar call and response passage enacted between the ensemble and the drums (see table (c) in Appendix (c)). The composed opening then transitions to three improvised choruses based on the 12-bar blues before transitioning again to composed material for the final 50 bars. The composed sections of the work are not necessarily “European” in nature; Snead’s (1981) definition of thematic repetition discussed in Chapter One for instance is useful in viewing slight shifts in arrangement between repeated statements of the opening theme throughout the composed passages as textural permutations of discrete musical units. Yet the fact of composition speaks to a style of pre- planning separate from the type of preparation an improvising soloist might undergo. Therefore pre-planning and improvisation are set against each other in La Ronde while remaining unified by the parameters of the work as a whole. The fugal Signifyin(g) on Vendome in which composed expositions alternate with improvised episodes provides further evidence of this compositional approach (see table (d) in Appendix (c)). The collection of double- voiced compositional strategies that emerges across this first set of recordings can then be seen to define much of Lewis’ compositional approach over the following years.

Yet this pursuit was not without initial pause. As Gary Giddins writes, progress for the MJQ was slow after their initial release: “With Lewis spending most of his time working toward a master’s degree at the Manhattan School of Music, the first session was – not withstanding a gig in an obscure Greenwich Village bistro called the Chantilly – an isolated foray” (Giddins, 1998, p. 377). Indeed the MJQ would not return to the studio until June 1953, although when they did, they showed few signs of changing course. The group recorded another four tracks

117

for Prestige on June 25, 1953 and again the session included two jazz standards, Autumn in New York (1934) by Vernon Duke and But Not For Me (1930) by George Gershwin as well as two of Lewis’ own compositions, Delaunay’s Dilemma (1953) and The Queen’s Fancy (1953). Like the group’s approach in 1952, the tracks were released as double sided 78-rpm singles before being incorporated into the multi-track LP mentioned above.17 Composed and improvised counterpoint feature prominently on these sides, and the ability of these features to conjure Western art music associations is evident in the album’s critical reception. As Hentoff wrote for Down Beat:

Lewis’ writing is of a charm, meaningful direction, and spare unpretentiousness. There is also a quiet humor as in Vendome and The Queen’s Fancy which bring to mind an 18th century cat, time-machined to now, and wailing on a sunny morning in May…These records bear a lot of study by both musicians and lay listeners. That Lewis is an undeniably major figure in contemporary jazz is shown by the fact that deceptive simplicity of this quality is the hardest achievement of all to come by in any form of communication (Hentoff, 1953, p. 16).

The MJQ’s access to jazz venues rose upon the release of these recordings, with 1953 and 1954 seeing a good deal of performances by the group on both the East and West coasts of the United States. The MJQ’s first major booking at Birdland in New York during October of 1953 (discussed in Chapter Two) gave way to engagements in Boston, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Philadelphia (Giddins, 1998, p. 384). It would appear some material for the group’s next recording session was trialled during this period. Gleason (1954) writes of a performance of the Gillespie work One Bass Hit (1946) during the group’s week-long residency at the Black Hawk in San Francisco in September 1954 and Hentoff (1954a) writes of a performance of Lewis’ original work Django (1954) sometime before October 1954. Both tracks were then recorded during the MJQ’s next session for Prestige taking place on December 23, 1954.

17 The album Modern Jazz Quartet with Milt Jackson contains all the tracks recorded on the December 22, 1952 date and the June 25, 1953 date. 118

The format of the resulting MJQ LP, titled Modern Jazz Quartet, Volume 2, evinced various splits with the group’s earlier Prestige sessions. The most apparent difference was Lewis’ expansion of the 3-minute cap he had placed on earlier recordings: Django lasts for 7’4’’ and Lewis’ La Ronde Suite (recorded on January 9, 1955) lasts for 9’46’’. Another point of contrast can be found in the less even division of authorship on the record. Lewis wrote three of the four works released, Django, La Ronde Suite, and Milano (1954) while reworking only one existing jazz work, One Bass Hit by Gillespie. Importantly, this changed format appears to have been conceived of after the December recording date. Like the earlier sessions for Prestige, the December 1954 recording session included performances of two standards, I’ll Remember April (1942) by Gene de Paul and One Bass Hit as well as the two originals cited above (see discography). The recording of the La Ronde Suite in January and the omission of I’ll Remember April on the final release points to a belated change of course. While it is difficult to determine the thought process behind this shift with any certainty, the ultimate effect was the amplification of Lewis’ compositional presence on the LP.

Yet a more substantial alteration in the direction of the group arose after the Volume 2 sessions through a change in group personnel. MJQ drummer Kenny Clarke, whose connection to Lewis extended back to their time in Dizzy Gillespie’s big band, decided to leave the group in February, 1955 (Giddins, 1998, p. 385). Clarke’s ability to improvise had been highlighted extensively in the works Lewis composed, most notably on La Ronde and the La Ronde Suite, yet his replacement, Connie Kay, was admittedly averse to the practice. As Kay explained to Whitney Balliett in 1971: “I don’t like to take drum solos at all. Drums are a flat instrument… I know how I feel when other drummers solo. It seems like you’ve heard them all before” (Balliett, 1971, p. 167). In addition to this alternate view on improvisation, Kay produced a very different sounds on the instrument: Where Clarke’s performance practice had derived from the effusive rhythmic accompaniment of the bebop era, Kay showed an interest in the clarity of individual sounds, eventually emerging as “an adept colorist… seated behind an array of drums, chimes, triangles, and cymbals” (Giddins, 1998, p. 386).

The first recording documenting this personnel change marks the last of the group’s work with the Prestige label. Recorded on July 2, 1955, the session tracks are once again comprised of a mix of jazz standards and originals, including a blues with a canon-like head (Ralph’s New Blues

119

(1955)) written by Milt Jackson and Lewis’ second fugal work, Concorde (1955). The independent polyphony of Jackson’s Ralph’s New Blues contrasts his other blues compositions (Bag’s Groove (1954), initially recorded as part of Miles Davis’ 1954 group, and Bluesology (1956) recorded in the next year with the MJQ), but fits neatly into the aesthetic of the overall recording session. For instance, in addition to Lewis’ polyphonic Concorde, the standard Softly as in a Morning Sunrise (1928) by Romberg and Hammerstein is arranged with a 4 bar double-time introduction in which displaced entrances of an introductory theme lead into independent contrapuntal lines before transitioning to the AABA form of the work and improvised solos. The pairing of cymbal parts in rhythmic unison with particular contrapuntal lines features not only on this work, but throughout the album, connecting the paired down sound of Kay’s approach with the contrapuntal lines Lewis had now incorporated into his array of compositional devices.

The recording of the album corresponded with Lewis’ work with the Modern Jazz Society discussed in Chapter Two and demonstrated a new level of commitment to the syncretic project. Indeed, attempts to induce a Western art music expectation expanded beyond the musical level into the realm of product packaging. The title of the album, Concorde, derives from the Place de la Concorde public squares in Paris, a fact evident in the locale’s sketched representation on the album cover. As a point of contrast, other jazz artists for Prestige tended to highlight individuality over place in the titles and album cover content of their 1954 and 1955 releases. Bob Weinstock’s action photography of Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Bennie Green and Bob Brookmeyer often captured the musicians with instruments positioned at their lips, poised in front of microphones. These images then served as backdrops for album covers with self-referential titles such as Miles Davis All Start Sextet (1954), Sonny Rollins and Thelonious Monk (1954), Bennie Green Blows His Horn (1955) and The Dual Role of Bob Brookmeyer (1955). The absence of the MJQ from the Concorde album cover, the depiction of the Place de la Concorde and the decision to go with a non self-referential title positioned the album against the bulk of Prestige releases, carrying with it similar divisional implications as did the positioning of Lewis’ works in newly created “Modern Music” venues during the same year.18

18 The name “The Modern Jazz Quartet” does appear below the word “Concorde” on the album cover but is less prominent, and as it refers to a group rather than an individual, less focused on individuality. 120

Momentum in terms of establishing the group as a vehicle for “modern” music separate from the greater cohort of Prestige artists may have in turn enabled their recruitment by Atlantic records in 1955. Giddins (1998), after all, credits producer Nesuhi Ertegun for approaching the group as part of his vision to encourage “modern sounds” on the label (Giddins, 1998, p. 386). Yet their first recording for Atlantic demonstrated some movement away from the syncretic approach that permeates the Concorde sessions. The album is titled Fontessa (1956) and again includes a mixture of originals and jazz standards, including the works Woody’n You (1942) by Dizzy Gillespie, Willow Weep for Me (1932) by Ann Ronnell, Angel Eyes (1946) by Matt Dennis and Earl Brent, and Over the Rainbow (1939) by Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg. Importantly, Lewis’ interpretation of these standards seems to incorporate fewer Western art music structural concepts than his previous arrangements while highlighting the use of Ring tropes early on, a development facilitated in part by the works’ heads. The melody of Angel Eyes for example features the use of the blues flat-fifth and Jackson’s interpretation of the opening bars of Willow Weep for Me employs pendular thirds in an embellishment of the melody that sustains E natural over the C7 harmony during the second half of the first two bars. Such minor features might at first appear insignificant. However, as is detailed in the second half of this chapter, several of Lewis’ original compositions pre-1955 held back on overt use of Ring tropes until after their opening bars. Furthermore, many of his early arrangements of jazz standards signalled immediate Western art music engagement by graphing composed contrapuntal lines underneath themes and adding introductions that employed characteristics such as straight rhythmic time and ostinatos. In the arrangement of Angel Eyes and Willow Weep for Me, Lewis veered from this trend, allowing the works’ heads to more or less stand on their own with the vibraphone or piano playing the melody while the drums keep swung time and the bass plays chord changes before departing into improvised solos.

Lewis’ two original compositions on the album however function differently. The title work, Fontessa (1956), is over 11-minutes long and contains long passages of what appears to be composed material interspersed with improvisation. Again, determining exactly what is composed and what is improvised, as is the case in many of Lewis’ works for the MJQ, remains beyond the aural realm and from an Afro-Modernist perspective, this grey area seems likely to be the point. Keeping an audience guessing regarding what is derived from vernacular

121

practices and what might be derived from Western art music practices invites inquisitive interaction with the unfamiliar.

The other original, Lewis’ Versailles (1956), is equally successful in this regard. Like Concorde and Vendome, the work is based on the thematic interplay intrinsic to fugal processes, although, in this case, appears to utilize at least some improvisation in its expositions. As Thomas Owens related in 1976: “John Lewis told me recently that the quartet worked from the written subject only; nothing else about this piece – neither its overall structure, key areas, chord progressions, nor accompanying ostinatos – was ever written down” (Owens, 1976, p. 30). Such absence of written music however must not be confused with a lack of planning. For as Heath would later reflect, the contract with Atlantic brought with it a new attitude regarding preparation: “It wasn’t like other record dates where you go in and the guy scratches out some chords and hands it to you at the date, like a lot of the Miles recordings. Everything was not only rehearsed, it was refined before we got to the studio” [italics in original] (Giddins, 1998, p. 387). The fact that reconciling these two accounts (i.e. the amount of pre-planned material versus the amount of improvisation in the exposition) is so challenging from the position of a blind listening makes Versailles one of the most successful Signifyin(g) statements in Lewis’ oeuvre (audio example 2).

Lewis was of course not the sole explorer of such projects during the 1950s. His recruitment of West coast drummer Chico Hamilton, guitarist Jim Hall and tenor saxophonist Bill Perkins to record an album with the Los Angeles label Pacific Jazz after the release of Fontessa demonstrates what might be considered a meeting of the minds in this regard. A year earlier, Hamilton had formed a quintet that in many ways broke down jazz instrumentation barriers. The group consisted of himself and Hall, along with Buddy Collettte on saxophone and flute, Carson Smith on the bass and most importantly Fred Katz on the cello (Yanow, 2005, p. 161). While the presence of string instruments was not anathema to jazz (Ray Nance for instance contributed several violin solos to Duke Ellington’s compositions), the cello had yet to be showcased in the manner Hamilton’s quintet allowed. Katz’ improvisations “gave the group its own sound” and led to a modest degree of popularity on the West coast (Yanow, 2005, p. 161) while the counterpoint produced by the instrumental interplay of cello, reeds and guitar mirrored the type of compositions on which Lewis had been working. Lewis’ use of Hamilton

122

and Hall on the album Grand Encounter: Two Degrees East, Three Degrees West (1956) therefore allowed for a project that aligned well stylistically with the aesthetic mindset of all involved.

The title track of the album, a work composed by Lewis, demonstrated consistency with both Lewis’ and Hamilton’s earlier work in its utilisation of contrapuntal effects in connection with thematic material. The theme begins in unison in the saxophone and the guitar and is heard in its entirety before an offset statement in the piano plays in counterpoint during the following “A” section. Riffs derived from the theme then continue in the guitar and the saxophone over a bass improvisation that leads into a section of open improvisation for the guitar. While Western art music alignment is not directly alluded to in this recording, an emphasis on pre- planning and interest in the way thematic material interacts does come across in the intricacy of the introduction.

Lewis subsequent album, titled Afternoon in Paris (1956), employs similarly innovative thematic treatment, this time with an over nod towards Western art music. The recording was made for the French label Versailles and reunited original member of the MJQ, drummer Kenny Clarke, with Lewis and bassist Percy Heath while adding to the mix tenor saxophonist Berney Wilen and guitarist Sacha Distel. As on Grand Encounter, the title track of this album represented Lewis’ only original composition to the recording date and as with Two Degrees East, Three Degrees West, improvised counterpoint in the saxophone is interwoven with the head statements on this track. Yet the arrangements of jazz standards on this recording take this pre-planning a step further, employing straight-time figures in the introductions of Willow Weep for Me and All the Things You Are. In turn, the theme of the Swedish folk song Dear Old Stockholm is broken up into an exchange between unaccompanied guitar, saxophone and piano. While Distil and Wilen interpret their figures in swung time, Lewis plays his section of the theme straight. As is discussed more thoroughly later in this chapter, contrapuntal interplay evokes fluidity of cultural influences: it can be understood as aligning with Western art music but also has a strong connection with the New Orleans style of jazz. Straight-time passages however seem to indicate a less ambiguous articulation of Western art music sonorities. Infusing straight-time into the middle of an otherwise swung themes therefore can be seen to induce a revision of syncopated rhythmic tropes in the jazz style.

123

The modernist approach realized across these early recordings is reflected in Lewis’ musical ventures outside the recording studio in the mid 1950s as well. Chapter Two identified Lewis’ syncretic approach as a means of capitalizing on the modernist, evolutionary narrative of jazz taking hold in academic institutions. His own approach to jazz education as head of the Lenox School of Jazz between 1956 and 1960 largely mirrors this trend in that focus was placed on new approaches to composition and arrangement. Yet simultaneously, Lewis’ program introduced mentor/student relationships in order to workshop improvisation. Shifting focus between pre-planned material and improvisation can then be seen to feature prominently across the works Lewis and the MJQ performed at the school, serving almost as an aural capstone to the Lenox experience.

The Lenox School of Jazz emerged out of the lecture series initiated by Marshall Stearns discussed in Chapter Two and was initially built around a round-table model in which several jazz practitioners would address musical problems through collective performance, demonstration and discussion (Wilson, 1956, X9). As the program expanded in 1957 to include students of jazz in addition to leading jazz practitioners, the collective problem-solving model shifted to encompass both mentor/student relationships and classes aimed at developing composition skills. Examples of seminars carrying this bent included Techniques in Jazz Composition delivered by George Russell and Jazz Frontiers, a music theory class delivered by Bill Russo and Lennie Tristano (“The School of Jazz,” 1957, p. 23). While the seminar component appears to have emphasised pre-planning, the mentoring program was tied in many respects to the technicalities of improvisation. However, designing a curriculum around an act infused with so much subjectivity was not without its problems. Although Lewis recruited elite musicians to teach at Lenox, including, among others, Oscar Peterson, Dizzy Gillespie, Ray Brown, Milt Jackson and Max Roach, very few of these professionals were trained teachers (“The School of Jazz,” 1957, p. 23). Ron Riddle’s reflections on improvisation lessons highlights the conceptual problem these newcomers faced when bridging the gap between art creation and professional training: “Where does one start, for instance, and who is to say what is right and wrong?” (Riddle, 1958, p. 30). One solution that circumvented this issue was the designing of a technical curriculum in which the processes to be learnt were closely aligned with vernacular practices. Pianist Dave Blume’s comments on the use of improvisation in his lessons with Oscar Peterson provide evidence of this:

124

When I told Oscar I couldn’t swing without a rhythm section, he played with just his left hand and it swung. He gave me some exercises to do. One of them was to play unison with both hands doing exactly the same thing at all times. Another was to swap fours with myself while he had his back turned, and he said he didn’t want to be able to tell which hand was playing. He could at first but I don’t think he can now (“The School of Jazz,” 1957, p. 23).

Embedding improvisation into a technical lesson in the form of swapping fours seemed to achieve Blume’s stated goal of wanting to develop a stronger sense of swing in his left hand while simultaneously expanding his creative resources as an improviser. When this experience is taken in connection with the composition and theory classes, an educative philosophy that echoed the modernist ethos of propelling vernacular conventions in the direction of new sonorities appears to under-ride the Lenox experience.

The selection of Lewis’ works performed at Lenox can then be seen to mirror this curriculum balance between written composition and improvisation. The first session documenting such a performance took place on the second night of the 1956 season, August 28, and was issued by Atlantic as At Music Inn: The Modern Jazz Quartet with Jimmy Giuffre (1957). Of the nine works recorded, five were Lewis originals, three were Lewis arrangements of existing works and one was an original written by guest artist Giuffre. The Lewis originals included A Fugue for Music Inn (1956), Two Degrees East, Three Degrees West (1956), Sun Dance (1956), and A Morning in Paris (1956). As with the albums the MJQ had assembled during the first half of the 1950s, there is variation regarding the amount of composed material (or material improvised in straight-time which sounds composed) and compositional approaches based on improvisation. Sun Dance for instance is organised around one repeated motive and contains little harmonic movement, leading to extended improvisatory sections over rhythmic and melodic vamps. A Fugue for Music Inn in contrast appears to contain a good deal of pre-planned counterpoint in both expositions and bridging sections.

The recording of the group at Lenox during the next season, however, seems to have diverged from this approach. Here works that were heavily improvised were paired with works in which

125

there was extensive pre-planning. Most of the material performed by the group at the school in this 1957 season derived from the score Lewis had written for the Roger Vadim film Sait-on Jamais, discussed at length in Chapter Five and already issued on Atlantic LP1284 in April 1957. This may account for Atlantic’s decision not to issue the Lenox recording made on August 24, as they had already invested in marketing the earlier version of the work. While it is difficult to make any assertions about the performance without access to these unissued tracks, if the April LP is any indication, the Lenox performance would have been laden with contrapuntal Signifyin(g) embedded within the works; an entirely opposite solution to the At Music Inn recording in which a complex series of meanings emerged by pairing vernacular- heavy works with syncretic products (the implications of this practice are discussed further in the second half of this chapter).

The next two years saw the pendulum swing again with a return to the At Music Inn approach evident in the recordings released on two more albums of Lenox performances, The Modern Jazz Quartet At Music Inn – Volume 2 (1958) and Pyramid (1959). Both albums included the by now established mix of originals and standards and the influence of the Lenox faculty is clear. At Music Inn – Volume 2 showcases saxophonist Sonny Rollins on two works, Bag’s Groove composed by Jackson who taught at Lenox from 1957-1960 and Night in Tunisia (1942) by Gillespie who taught at the school in 1957 (Yudkin, 2006, p.57, 102). Pyramid in turn contains arrangements of Ray Brown’s Pyramid and Jim Hall’s Romaine; both Brown and Hall had served on the Lenox faculty since 1957 (Yudkin, 2006, p. 59, 103). The content of these albums included works that utilized an array of Western art music sonorities as well as more vernacular-heavy pieces. The straight-time interwoven passages of Lewis’ Midsömmer (1957) contrast the extended bebop-influenced solos of Bag’s Groove on the At Music Inn – Volume 2 album. Similarly, the fugal expositions of a faster and shorter arrangement of Vendome contrasts the pervasive riffing of It Don’t Mean a Thing (If it Ain’t Got That Swing) on the album Pyramid. While works like Vendome and Midsömmer also carried internal Afro-Modernist tensions, juxtaposing these works against “bluesier” numbers in the scope of the greater album established a base level of double-speak from which the roots of engagement could take hold.

Despite Atlantic’s commitment to documenting the musical side of the Lenox experience, the attention the school received in the popular press was less tied to MJQ performances and

126

more to the fact that the school provided a way of bridging the gap between the accepted modernist perspective on jazz held by the academy and jazz musicians not entirely convinced of this paradigm. Popular press support of this reading is unsurprising given the “victory of jazz modernists over jazz traditionalists” in the “moldy fig” debate that had played out in editorials and letters during the 1940s (Lopes, 2002, p. 218). Certainly such support for the modernist paradigm can be seen in John Wilson’s description of the school for the New York Times. Under the subtitle “Warring Camps,” Wilson writes:

One of the great stumbling blocks of the modern jazz musician has been his lack of knowledge or understanding of the background of the music he is attempting to play. This ignorance has been encouraged by the schism between the older forms of jazz and the newer ones, a split in which it has become fashionable for musicians on one side of the fence to offer little but scorn to those on the other side. But when moderator Willis Conover opened the discussion of “Rhythm” by asking Wibur De Paris, whose music career began in 1907 with a carnival, and Sammy Price, who started playing piano professionally in 1914, to sketch in some of the early uses of rhythm in jazz, their remarks developed into a short lecture on the history of jazz rhythms simply because such modernist members of the discussion group as drummers Max Roach and Connie Kay, bassists Percy Heath and Ray Brown and pianist Dick Katz were so fascinated to learn where they had come from, musically, that it never occurred to them to interrupt (Wilson, 1956, p. X9).

Given the interest in the school’s modernist ethos, it is somewhat unsurprising that the way modern music could speak to various audiences was used in the marketing of the recordings of Lewis’ group.

Lewis’ use of counterpoint on the album At Music Inn Volume 2 in particular served as a concept around which both insider and outsider interests could be activated. Gunther Schuller’s liner notes for the album provide evidence of this:

The Quartet has achieved … symbiotic fusion to such a remarkable degree, that it can take material like the ballads on this record and make it wholly its own in a very

127

special way. For as they play, we hear not merely a performance, but actually a form of recomposition [italics in original]. In this particular case, as an added fascination, John and Milt apply their unique talents via simultaneous improvisation – an aspect of jazz performance sorely neglected for some thirty-five years. The rambling, discursive nature of their playing reminds one of a highly intelligent, animated conversation. There are wonderful moments as the piano and vibe lines intertwine in the same register, causing delightful, subtle clashes that are the height of contrapuntal ingenuity – all the more intriguing because they are spontaneous (Schuller, 1958a, p. 1).

While Schuller’s discussion of counterpoint is framed in the context of a reintroduction of simultaneous improvisation into the jazz realm, his tone is devoid of the Dionysian qualities ascribed to the practice by critics like Robert Goffin and Hughes Panassié. Importantly, the effect is caged in the language of cerebrality (“highly intelligent,” “subtle clashes,” “height of contrapuntal ingenuity”) thus echoing an established perception of the quartet in which it was aligned to the body of Western art music discussed in Chapter Three. More overt references to syncretism are then bestowed on Lewis’ arrangement of Charlie Parker’s Yardbird Suite (1946) in which traditional jazz practices appear to be pitted against Lewis’ approach to “thematic fragmentation”:

In Yardbird Suite John skilfully states Parker’s thematic material in fragmentation. Each fragment appears in single or unison lines in various instruments, disconnected from its predecessor, as if suspended in silence. Gradually the music becomes more continuous, the fragments overlapping like clouds drawing together in a threatening sky. This imaginative introduction then gives way to a virtuosic stop-time chorus by Milt (and Connie), in turn leading to two choruses by John (Schuller, 1958a, p. 1).

Schuller’s comments on counterpoint in both these quotes highlight the paradox of the trope in that it appears to signal both distance from traditional jazz practices and a connection to older jazz styles. It seems possible that the inclusion of such comments on the issued release may indeed have functioned as a purposeful nod toward the plurality of intended audience members, i.e. people who might find meaning in the works by aligning with either of the

128

potential readings. At the very least, the paradox demonstrates the double-voiced nature of counterpoint and the ease in which it could be applied toward semantic play.

The problematising of contrapuntal presence in the liner notes to At Music Inn Volume 2 is foreshadowed, albeit in vaguer terms, in the liner notes Nat Hentoff contributed to a recording Lewis made earlier in 1958 with the Stuttgart Symphony Orchestra. The album, titled European Windows (1958), was recorded amidst the group’s 1958 European tour and includes Percy Heath and Connie Kay but not Milt Jackson. Lewis had written once before for an ensemble other than the MJQ, the brass ensemble that recorded Three Little Feelings (1956) (discussed in Chapter Two), but European Windows marked his first interaction with strings. The paradox of contrapuntal practices that could function both as distinct cultural tropes and as a blurred aesthetic concept is expressed in Hentoff’s reflections on Lewis’ arrangements:

Note the frequent use of counter-lines beneath soloists and between sections of the orchestra. Note too the clear, logical development of his themes; they are never swallowed or stifled by the orchestration… And there is not a little influence from Lewis’ jazz experiences here. The way, for example, the improvised flute and baritone solos flow naturally into and out of the surrounding texture so that they are always a continuing, organic part of the whole work [italics in original](Hentoff, 1958, p. 1).

While Hentoff’s comments are made in reference to the entire album, they seem to speak particularly well to Lewis’ re-imagining of the work Three Windows from his score to Sait-on Jamais. The overlapping thematic statements of the fugal exposition are immediately followed by a 40 measure improvised flute solo performed by Gerry Weinkopf. The first 32 measures of this improvisation occur over an AABA form in C minor. Weinkopf then interjects subject motifs into his solo for 8 measures while the bass plays the fugal countersubject. Gradual thematic layering continues to occur as Weinkopf moves from improvisatory material to a firmer statement of the fugal subject set against contrapuntal backings beginning in measure 70 (see table (e) in Appendix (c)). The gradual increase of overlapping thematic backings during Weinkopf’s solo and the eventual transition of Weinkopf’s improvisation into a statement of the fugal subject itself affirm the interchangeability of contrapuntal techniques described by Hentoff. In other words, Weinkopf participates in the “fugal” nature of the work by providing

129

both improvised independent counterpoint utilizing subject motifs against the statement of the fugal countersubject in the bass as well as by performing the subject itself amidst the thematic layering beginning at bar 70. While such an approach is not drastically different from the MJQ fugal works Vendome, Concorde and Versailles, Lewis’ work with the Stuttgart Symphony orchestra and the Brass Ensemble of the Jazz and Classical Music Society a year earlier did mark a shift in the type of ensembles Lewis would seek out to realize his syncretic goals.

Building on his experience with new venue creation, Lewis teamed up once again with Schuller in September of 1959 to produce a concert of jazz, Western art music and fusion music at Town Hall in New York. The two composers recruited the Beaux Arts String Quartet to perform with the MJQ and designed a program broken into three sections (similar to the format used by the Jazz and Classical Music Society), emphasising different compositional approaches. The first section contained a performance of Haydn’s Quartet Opus 74 No. 1 played by the Beaux-Arts String Quartet; the second section was comprised of the Modern Jazz Quartet playing selections from its repertoire of jazz standards and the third section contained premieres of compositions by Lewis and Schuller written for a combined ensemble made up of the two quartets (Hoefer, 1959, p. 46). These latter compositions, Conversation (1959) by Schuller and Sketch (1959) by Lewis, are the only two works from the concert released by Atlantic.

The resulting LP, Third Stream Music (1960), marks the most prominent use of the term “Third Stream” since its inception and carried with it implications for Lewis’ shift in ensemble selection. As stated in the introduction to this thesis, the term was introduced by Schuller in 1957, but it seems to have gained traction in the popular press only in the wake of the Third Stream Music LP. Earlier substitute terms, such as John Wilson’s “a body of music… that is to some extent jazz and yet… just as much a part of serious music” (Wilson, 1958b, p. X12) and Norman O’Connor’s “a third brand of music, whose name we know not” (O’Connor, 1957, p. 18) arise around the syncretic works of Lewis, Giuffre and Schuller in the years before the Atlantic release. By grouping these artists together on the album (Giuffre’s Fine (1959) is the second track) and providing a masthead for the works, the Atlantic LP allowed for a branding of the concept that linked with the new venue creation project discussed in Chapter Two. Thus the term “Third Stream” created a recorded space that paralleled that of the Town Hall

130

modern music series, requiring listeners to reconcile aspects of musical fusion on individual terms as they engaged with the recording.

An additional facet of the album title was that it connected the term “Third Stream Music” with ensembles comprised of instrumentation beyond standard big band or small group set ups. In addition to the participation of the Beaux-Arts String Quartet on Sketch and Conversation, Lewis’ Exposure (1959) includes parts for bassoon, cello and harp as well as the less conventional but not all too unfamiliar French horn. Reception of the album highlighted this expanded ensemble as a key component of the stylistic concept. As Leonard Feather wrote in Down Beat:

The process of drawing from the resources of classical music and jazz conjunctively has obsessed composers in both fields for almost 40 years. That it has rarely produced music of durable quality can be blamed largely on the almost total lack of rapport between jazzmen and classical musicians (Feather, 1960, p. 36).

Feather’s reference to the “lack of rapport between jazzmen and classical musicians” sets up an instrumental divide between the type of music found on the LP and the syncretic music of Lewis’ earlier MJQ recordings. Those sharing Feather’s beliefs might then align syncretic projects of large ensembles with the music on the Third Stream album and tangentially the “Third Stream” label, while filing the syncretic projects of small ensembles into another category. Indeed, this reading of Third Stream criteria can be seen to prevail in distinctions regarding Lewis’ music made over the course of the following years.

It is easiest to track this system of classification in relation to the composition and reworking of Lewis’ The Comedy. At its 1960 debut, where it functioned as music for an improvised ballet in Paris (“A ‘Precious Asset,’” 1960, p. 9), Lewis claimed to have based the work on the figures of the Commedia dell’Arte. However, this conception of the work appears to have deeper roots. The earliest incarnation of the work’s themes can be found in Lewis’ Fontessa, located on the album of the same name. While this particular track is not divided into movements named after individual characters of the Commedia dell’Arte (as later developments would be), the cover of the album depicts the familiar Columbine in the foreground and the characters

131

Harlequin, Pulcinella and Pierrot in the background. Lewis then expanded on this concept in 1958 turning the characters into discrete tracks on the Atlantic LP The John Lewis Piano (1958). The first track, Harlequin, is followed by track 6, Two Lyric Pieces – Pierrot, and track 7, Colombine. The recording signals an unusual departure for Lewis in that it was made with only piecemeal support by the MJQ: Percy Heath performs on just two tracks and Connie Kay on only three; Milt Jackson is entirely absent. The amalgamation of these tracks under the banner The Comedy was subsequently arranged for brass ensemble, the score of which was published by Associated Music Publishers. A recorded performance of the work can be found on Atlantic LP 1334 under the title The Golden Striker (1960). Despite the Western art music expectation induced by the Commedia dell’Arte associations of both projects, only the brass ensemble work was framed initially as a Third Stream composition. As Gary Kramer writes in his liner notes:

Considerable comment has been expended on John Lewis’s independent use of both classical and traditional jazz devices in his work. Recently critic John S. Wilson hit upon the phrase “third stream music” to designate a new and growing body of music which, like John’s, overlaps, both fields to the point where it is hard to classify by older standards (Kramer, 1960, p. 1).

Kramer’s comments do not call out the instrumental difference as do Feather’s, but the criteria seems to play at least a part in Third Stream attribution when this reading is compared with the reception of the later MJQ version of The Comedy recorded in 1961 and released in 1962. John Wilson, the critic to which Kramer attributes the “third stream music” phrase, avoids reference to the new style when summing up the significance of the small group recording in Down Beat (Wilson, 1963, p. 28) while Kramer’s own liner notes for the MJQ version locate the work squarely in the jazz realm. Using the improvisatory elements of the work as opposed to its composed aspects as evidence, Kramer endeavours to dispel confusion around the work’s cultural origin:

It might… be a source of bewilderment to some that a jazz composer should be so obsessed by these quaint figures that come from a European tradition that antedates jazz by many centuries. John Lewis long ago perceived that there were many analogies between jazz and the Italian comedy, however. Its improvised character attracted him

132

instantaneously; these plays were not written down, only a bare outline of a plot was posted in the wings, and the players had to take it from there. This was not an author’s theatre; it was a player’s theatre, just as jazz has been, in the main, an instrumentalist’s medium rather than a composer’s (Kramer, 1962, p. 1, [italics in original]).

A comparison of Kramer’s two reviews seems to indicate a perception of different degrees of pre-planning in the two variations of the work. Yet as will be discussed in the second half of this chapter, both versions utilize Snead’s (1981) trope of thematic repetition to create highly organised forms. While there is little doubt factors beyond instrumentation remain at play in designating the Third Stream label (the MJQ version of The Comedy does contain longer improvisatory sections than its brass counterpart), further confirmation of a conceptual divide at least partly based in instrumentation can be seen in Mathieu’s (1961) comments regarding Lewis’ orchestral work Original Sin (1961).

Mathieu (1961) begins his review by claiming that one of the problems Lewis “has set out to solve is to find suitable rhythmic figures the strings can play with a jazz feeling,” before going on to categorise the work at hand as a Third Stream composition. Importantly, the term emerges amidst a discussion of the transition between the swung ride cymbal beat that begins the work and the melodic string section that follows. As Mathieu states: “I swear I thought the selector on my hi-fi set had accidentally slipped over to AM radio. Alas for the Third Stream, it had not” (Mathieu, 1961, p. 30). Although undue weight should not be placed on a singular comment, Mathieu’s choice to locate the work in the Third Stream amidst a discussion of a failed, or stark, transition between different instrumental sections provides some evidence of the connotations surrounding the term. It should be noted in addition that when Columbia records released their album Outstanding Jazz Compositions of the 20th Century (1964) replete with an essay on Third Stream music by Ralph Gleason, they did not reach back to Lewis’ Birth of the Cool arrangements of Budo or Move as examples of the genre (recordings of which the company still held rights), but to Three Little Feelings, the brass composition discussed at the end of Chapter Two.

133

This disparate labelling of Lewis’ works would not however affect his engagement of Western art music sonorities when working at the level of the quartet. Indeed, the last of Lewis’ work set down on record in 1962, the Atlantic album Lonely Woman (1962), demonstrates the increasingly complex meanings such an approach would emit as “Black Nationalism” found a stronger foothold in the jazz world. The album title comes from the Ornette Coleman composition of the same name, released in 1959 by Atlantic on the album The Shape of Jazz To Come. Coleman’s album is widely viewed as heralding the birth of “free jazz” (Ake, 1998, p. 26) and Lewis’ contribution to the liner notes foreshadows this importance, referring to the music as “the only really new thing in jazz since the innovations in the mid-forties of Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk” (Williams, 1959, p. 1). Yet while there is much innovation in Coleman’s work, as Ake (1998) writes: “If Coleman’s music had been completely cut off from… established approaches, he would have been viewed as nothing more than a type of exotic oddity” (Ake, 1998, p. 30). Indeed, part of the brilliance of Lonely Woman is its embrace of double-voiced compositional techniques in which the Dionysian rhythmic qualities ascribed to African-American vernacular music are veiled. As Ake writes about the “implied” pulse in the track:

The implied pulse in jazz did not originate with the Coleman group (Charles Mingus and others had been working on similar conceptions for some time), but this type of “free floating” drone had never been explored in quite this way before, or for such an extended period. The “dual nature” of this groove lasts throughout the piece and is a radical departure from the driving quarter-note walking bass and “two and four” hi- hat-type approach prevalent among the hard-bop rhythm sections of the day. Instead of the 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4 groove propelling most jazz tunes (most African-American- derived musics, for that matter), the nonregimented feel underlying “Lonely Woman” might be more accurately represented as 1-1-1-1-1-1-…. Though it is not a “finger- popper” or a “toe-tapper” in the Horace Silver or Art Blakey sense, one can move one’s body to “Lonely Woman’; one simply has to learn to move it differently [italics in original] (Ake, 1998, p.32).

Ake’s observations regarding the implied pulse’s ability to induce a physical response despite its difference from the standard 1-2-3-4 groove can be read as a purposeful masking of rhythm

134

centred around affecting perceptions of reputation and identity. Ake’s work holds that Coleman, like Lewis, rejected the hipster image and its related musical manifestations as he struck out against established constructs of African-American identity that permeated the jazz world; “His music and demeanor work to downplay the phallocentric aspects of jazz music, destabilizing positions of masculinity and prestige in the jazz community” (Ake, 1998, p. 40). Bebop rhythmic figures, as discussed in Chapter Three, served as one such symbolic trope intrinsically linked to the stereotyping of African-American identity. The extent to which the masking embedded in Coleman’s implied pulse is at least partly linked with economic benefits can then be seen in the multi-album deal he was able to negotiate with Atlantic – Change of the Century (1959), This is Our Music (1960), Free Jazz (1961),Ornette! (1961), Ornette on Tenor (1961), The Art of the Improvisers (1961), Twins (1961) and Beauty Is a Rare Thing (1961) all being released within his first three years with the label.

Lewis’ adaptation of Lonely Woman for the MJQ both echoes and complicates Coleman’s rhythmic Signifyin(g) discussed above. In a revision of the “implied pulse” identified by Ake, Lewis strips rhythmic accents back further, utilizing a tremolo in the bass, vibes and left hand of the piano as the right hand of the piano plays the work’s theme. Importantly, the effect of this revision does not maintain the “groove” elements of Coleman’s recording even though it does mirror its floating quality. Lewis’ rhythmic setting instead sounds like the orchestral tremolos he scores for the Beaux Arts String Quartet in the work Sketch than to anything else he had composed or arranged up to this point. Lewis does engage with vernacular rhythmic aesthetics, but in contrast to Coleman, chooses to juxtapose these sections of his work against the introduction; Lewis’ thematic setting gives way to a section of repeated riffs realized in call- response format and underscored by a steady 4/4 swung rhythm in the drums with accents on beats two and four before returning to a reiteration of the introduction at the end of the work that again employs tremolos. The fact that Lewis chose the most salient feature of Coleman’s piece, an introduction Ake refers to as “one of the most distinctive introductions in the history of recorded jazz” (Ake, 1998, p. 31) written by a composer intimately linked with the Black Arts Movement (Hersch, 1996, p. 110), as the moment he would induce a Western art music expectation demonstrates continued drive to simultaneously engage disparate audiences. As many have noted, Lewis was intimately aware of Coleman’s work in the late 1950s and the early 1960s (Wilson, 1960, p. 47; De Micheal, 1961, p. 20) and the growing link between “free

135

jazz” and the Black Arts Movement was coalescing in the public eye (see Jones, 1963, p. 17). Lewis’ reworking of Lonely Woman, and the use of the work’s name as the title to his album would have signalled awareness of this cultural shift, possibly engaging those committed to it, while maintaining those attracted to his group’s use of Western art music sonorities.

While Lewis did not engage with free jazz processes per se in this recording, his choice to Signify on a seminal free jazz work indicated the dawn of a new era for the quartet. Much of Lewis’ compositional practice between 1952 and 1962 had involved the reinvention of Western art music sonorities through the deployment of vernacular tropes. Whether explicit, as in the use of improvisation to drive the polyphonic aesthetic of his fugal works, or implicit as in the use of a large brass ensemble to realize the essentially riff driven Three Little Feelings, Lewis consistently relied on double-voiced designs to achieve both his stated aesthetic goals as well as his recruitment agenda discussed in Chapter Three. Importantly, he did not consider these works as separate from the realm of African-American expressive culture (although success linked to this impression seemed to have hampered an aggressive response to the contrary). The rise of the Black arts movement would however require more direct engagement with vernacular tropes in order to avoid a complete severing of ties to the African-American artistic realm in the popular press.

For as shown in this section, Lewis entered the era of the Black Arts Movement with a history of recordings that appear to have attracted distinct labels but related rhetoric. His works for ensembles larger than the MJQ (Three Little Feelings (1956), Sketch (1959), The Comedy (1960) and Original Sin (1961)) were marked as part of the Third Stream movement. This labelling occurred initially as a function of album titles and liner notes, but the sentiment was soon echoed in the popular press, solidifying categories for Lewis’ work based on instrumentation. Recordings of the quartet that utilized similar compositional approaches were, at least initially, exempted from the “Third Stream” label but continued to be discussed in the language of cerebrality surveyed in Chapter Three. The isolating nature of this rhetoric would eventually require a compositional response if Lewis desired to maintain continued access to the jazz market and certainly his arrangement of Lonely Woman appears to indicate steps taken towards such an approach. Yet it is the compositional strategies employed before this new period that

136

are connected to the historical scene setting of Chapters Two and Three and therefore most appropriate for examination in the following section.

4.2 Musical Analysis of Afro-Modernist Strategies The varied use of Western art music triggers and the manipulation of related expectations through the employment of vernacular tropes discussed in the preceding overview should give the reader a sense of the spectrum of Afro-Modernist techniques utilized by Lewis between 1952 and 1962. Three key strategies however stand out across this period and are discussed in this section with the aid of music notation in order to demonstrate the manner in which Afro- Modernist approaches to composition function at a technical level. The areas under examination are referred to by the titles “Contrapuntal Signifyin(g),” “Thematic Repetition,” and “Embedded Vernacular Forms.” The Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) subsection is concerned mainly with the paradoxical effect of independent polyphony in Lewis’ work, a trope that seems to conjure both traditional jazz practices and musical practices from outside African- American expressive culture. The contrapuntal nature of Lewis’ fugal works is given considerable attention in this analysis but examples that extend beyond the fugal realm are also considered. The Thematic Repetition subsection identifies practices of repetition and textural permutation that meet Snead’s (1981) reading of organisational tropes in African-American expressive culture in four of Lewis’ extended works (Three Little Feelings, both versions of The Comedy and Sketch). The works surveyed in this section employ thematic repetition as a means of Signifyin(g) on the structural connotations related to the works’ multi-movement layouts. Although the single movement work Sketch is an outlier in this regard, identification of its parallel use of vernacular organisational principles is useful in developing a sense of Lewis’ compositional style in works tied to the Third Stream label. Finally, the Embedded Vernacular Forms subsection looks at passages of improvisation in Lewis’ output from 1952-1962 that utilize 12-bar blues structures and repeated vamps caged within material that invites Western art music comparison. The interaction of these formal elements is shown to simultaneously create distance from and connection to Ring practices when the work is considered as a whole thereby Signifyin(g) at the macro level.

137

4.2.1 Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) Given the prominence of discussions of counterpoint in the reception of Lewis’ work considered in both Chapter Three and in the first part of this chapter, the trope seems a useful place to start the technical end of an Afro-Modernist analysis. Lewis’ fugal works serve as the most obvious point of departure, their expositions evincing pre-planned/offset themes that give way to improvised episodes. The exposition/episode distinction is important in that it is clear Lewis intended the fugal nature of these works to be evident. For instance, Hentoff’s (1954) assessment of Lewis’ work Vendome commits strongly to a fugal reading, an unlikely approach had the notes Lewis provided for the article not signalled this intent. In turn, later works with dovetailing introductions that parallel Vendome, Concorde, and Versailles use the word “fugue” in their title (see Alexander’s Fugue (1961), A Fugue for Music Inn), overtly signalling the Western art music process. The manner in which a fugal exposition could activate both Western art music connotations and those of the call-response vernacular practice is outlined in relation to Concorde at the end of Chapter Two. Yet Lewis’ fugal works also engage Western art music expectation in terms of what might constitute a fugal episode. As Walker (2010) notes in his definition of the term, an episode is conventionally held to be:

A portion of a Fugue during which the Subject as a complete entity is not sounding, although motifs derived from it may be present. A fugue is generally laid out as an opening Exposition followed by alternation between episodes and groups of thematic statements… Interest in the use of episodes seems to have arisen simultaneously with the rise of tonal harmony and its application to fugue at the beginning of the 18th century. Consequently episodes often have a modulating function in that they take the fugue to a related key in preparation for thematic statements in that key (Walker, 2010, ¶1).

Table (d) in Appendix (c) of Lewis’ Vendome details these harmonic shifts. Each exposition is prepared by a modulatory passage embedded within an improvisatory episode and all expositions following the initial opening demonstrate a change in tonality from the exposition by which they are immediately preceded (audio example 3). There is therefore at least a nod towards the conventions of fugal process in the larger arrangement of alternating sections in this work.

138

It is however the manner in which members of the quartet engage with matters referred to in the first part of Walker’s definition, i.e. the application of “motifs” derived from the subject, that develops the type of contrapuntal Signifyin(g) utilized in the Concorde exposition discussed in Chapter Two. In the particular instance of Concorde, the various semantic meanings of thematic quotation in the first episode are heightened by a revision of the blues sonorities embedded within the theme itself (see example 2.4, p. 79). Jackson plays the melodic outline of the work’s theme with the second and fourth measures reversed underneath Lewis’ improvisation during the first episode (example 4.1) and as Lewis’ improvisation develops, the vibe accompaniment begins to show a stronger similarity to the melodic and rhythmic elements of the theme, intensifying its independent contrapuntal role as Lewis’ solo sheds thematic similarity (example 4.2).

Example 4.1 Concorde (1955). Atlantic LP 7005. Thematic motif behind piano solo. mm. 32 – 39. Transcription.

139

Example 4.2 Concorde (1955). Atlantic LP 7005. Revised thematic motif behind piano solo. mm. 49 – 56. Transcription.

Even though the thematic accompaniment does not include all of the notes of the theme, its punctuation of the offbeats of beat four in measures 49 and 53 and the eighth notes on the downbeats of beat one in measures 50 and 54 (bracketed in example 4.2) combine to evoke an important structural signifier established in the primary thematic statement. Although this semitone movement is not a pendular third, it functions as a response to the pendular thirds of the work’s theme and those of Lewis’ solo (a reiteration of the theme) bracketed in example 4.1. There are therefore at least two discrete layers of Signifyin(g) occurring in this passage. The first speaks to the vibraphone backings’ ability to connect material from the fugal episode with material from the fugal subject while simultaneously calling attention to the vernacular convention of comping in the rhythm section itself. Secondly, the motif’s revision of pendular thirds into non-blues derived semitone movement in example 4.2 both redirects the listener to the blues quality of the initial thematic statement while at the same time highlighting an alternate semitone function, the pull from leading-tone to tonic. Similar to Magee’s (2007) discussion of Miles Davis’ revision of the blues third in the work Blue ‘n’ Boogie discussed in Chapter One, Jackson’s contrapuntal line in example 4.2 is able to both point towards the pendular third vernacular convention while simultaneously distancing himself from it, in this case by changing the purpose but not the location of semitone movement.

Of course the question of whether Jackson’s backings are pre-planned or spontaneous in

140

Concorde further complicates how this counterpoint should be read in an Afro-Modernist analysis. As surveyed in the first part of this chapter, comped backings in some MJQ works occasionally seem half pre-planned and half spontaneous. The origin, whether improvised or composed, of thematic material behind improvisations on Fontessa for instance is quite ambiguous; thematic riffs in the piano evolve into independent and non-repeating contrapuntal lines behind vibraphone improvisations. Therefore both possibilities must be considered when assessing the work, as is the case with Concorde. If the backings on Concorde are improvised, this would indicate a use of vernacular practice to activate the Western art music episode criteria but strip Lewis of the idea’s authorship. If they are pre-planned, their position in the solo section still activates the sound of both tropes but not by way of improvisation. Since the position taken in this thesis is that double-voiced design in and of itself represents a voluntary application of vernacular rhetorical strategy, both possibilities can be interpreted through the Afro-Modernist lens but only one credits Lewis with the authorship of the idea.

A similar problem emerges in unravelling the use of subject motifs played by Jackson during Lewis’ improvisation on Versailles. Like both Vendome and Concorde, the work aligns the sound of independent counterpoint with Western art music practices through a fugal exposition (example 4.3) before employing Ring tropes during an improvised episode (example 4.4). Example 4.3 demonstrates how Lewis is able to infuse the fugal subject and answer with Ring tropes (pendular thirds in the first full measure of the C major subject and F major answer) as well as the chromatic inflection of the flat ninth, a prominent part of jazz lexicon during the bebop era (second full measure of the C major subject and F major answer). Jackson’s riff-like backings during Lewis’ solo in turn draw on the blues derived flat-fifth before sounding repeated subject motifs, an approach that both maintains and expands vernacular presence; Blues derived melodic material echoes the content of the fugal subject while the manipulation of subject material into a riff points to the addition of yet another vernacular device. Yet because the nature of the pre-planning behind Versailles is unclear (as discussed in the first half of this chapter, Owens (1976) offers one account, Heath (in Giddins, 1998, p. 387) another – the listener is left hearing the Afro-Modernist tension without being certain of its origins.

141

Example 4.3 Versailles (1956). Atlantic LP 1231. Exposition. mm. 1 – 8. Transcription.

Example 4.4 Versailles (1956). Atlantic LP 1231. Thematic motif behind piano solo. mm. 25 – 40. Transcription.

142

In order to find contrapuntal Signifyin(g) that can clearly be linked to Lewis apart from the expositions discussed here and in Chapter Two, one must look beyond the fugal works. Outside this realm, the process of triggering Western art music expectation often involved the pairing of disparate works on MJQ releases as surveyed in the first section of this chapter. Lewis’ composition The Queen’s Fancy for instance, initially released as a double side with his MJQ arrangement of But Not For Me, induces a Western art music expectation by beginning with a fanfare (example 4.5) before transitioning to a contrapuntal passage in which thematic statements are offset against each other (example 4.6).

Example 4.5 The Queen’s Fancy (1953). Prestige LP 7057. Fanfare. mm. 1 – 5. Transcription.

Example 4.6 The Queen’s Fancy (1953). Prestige LP 7057. Offset thematic statements. mm. 14 – 19. Transcription.

Straight-time and pre-planned contrapuntal passages are compartmentalised in this work, bracketing improvisatory passages and signalling a division between what is derived from

143

Western art music and sections conceived vernacularly (see table (f) in Appendix (c)). Yet the “b” side of this recording, the arrangement of But Not For Me, utilizes improvised counterpoint coloured by blues sonorities (example 4.7). The most obvious example of this can be seen in the third measure of example 4.7, where the piano employs both pendular thirds and a flat seventh over the Eb harmony.

Example 4.7 But Not For Me (1930) [1953]. Prestige LP 7057. Improvised counterpoint. mm. 91 – 97. Transcription.

Importantly, this time it is Lewis injecting the counterpoint behind the improvisation and therefore his control of both the Western art music expectation induced by the scored counterpoint in The Queen’s Fancy and the teasing of this expectation during the “b” side of the album demonstrates creative control of the tension between contrapuntal practices on the record.

Similar principles are found on the MJQ album Fontessa, discussed earlier as an example where a collection of jazz standards more or less devoid of Western art music sonorities were juxtaposed against Lewis’ syncretic originals. Here again the presence of straight-time contrapuntal lines, this time in the title track (audio example 4), are pitted against swinging blues derived counterpoint in the piano comping for Jackson’s solo on Angel Eyes (audio example 5). While the work Fontessa contains sections of seemingly improvised blues derived counterpoint as well (see table (g) in Appendix (c)), it is its opening, in combination with the fugal exposition of Versailles located on the same album, that sets up a Western art music

144

expectation for passages of counterpoint derived through alternate cultural practices on works like Angel Eyes.

Interestingly, improvised counterpoint along the lines discussed here emerges in Lewis’ works for larger ensembles mainly in the form of comped bass lines. The independent nature of these passages is made salient when the bassist switches from steady four or two beat comping to syncopated figures, although all cases of improvisation in the bass could be viewed as Signifyin(g) revisions of the straight-time written counterpoint that often begins these works. A particularly clear example of this effect can be found in the “La Cantatrice” movement of the brass version of Lewis’ The Comedy. The movement begins with straight-time thematic layering (example 4.8) before opening up to a passage of thematic elaboration in which the trumpet is invited to interpret the thematic line and the bass is required to improvise (example 4.9).

Example 4.8 The Comedy (1960). “La Cantatrice” theme. mm. 1 – 12. Published Score [Reduced and set in Finale].

145

Example 4.9 The Comedy (1960). “La Cantatrice” improvised trumpet and bass counterpoint. mm 65 – 69. Published Score.

Although Lewis has indicated “two-beat feeling” in his notes to the score, bassist George Duvivier is given free reign regarding which notes to choose and does not strictly adhere to Lewis’ suggested rhythm (example 4.10).

Example 4.10 The Comedy (1960). Atlantic LP 1334. “La Cantatrice” Improvised trumpet and bass counterpoint. mm. 65 – 69. Transcription.

This transcription does not indicate a departure from approaches to comping on recordings of jazz standards made by the MJQ. To the contrary, it is notable because of this similarity. The polyphony of the passage plays off the straight-time thematic content of example 4.8 by way of the vernacular convention of the “walking” bass. Therefore, in both the first statement of the theme and in this section of thematically based improvisation, counterpoint holds a prominent position but the practices driving its presence are not the same.

146

Throughout the brass version of The Comedy, Duvivier holds exclusive responsibility for inciting such moments of Contrapuntal Signifyin(g). Lewis does accompany a trumpet soloist in the “Piazza Navona” movement but his comping is chordal and when Lewis himself solos, it is only Duvivier’s part that is marked “ad lib.”19 Such exclusivity might be problematised as a result of Jackson’s absence on the brass recording of The Comedy. Yet a similar focus on improvised counterpoint in the bass, to the exclusion of other instruments, can be found in Sketch, a work on which Jackson does perform. The consistency of this choice in Lewis’ works for ensembles larger than the MJQ might be related to the fact that the use of a “walking” bass heightens Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) to a level beyond that achieved in Lewis and Jackson’s polyphonic improvisations through its utilization of a more standardized jazz convention. As discussed in the first section of this chapter, when contrapuntal interplay between the piano and vibes was connected to the vernacular realm, it was done so by way of a comparison to older styles of jazz (Schuller, 1958a, p. 1). The “walking” bass in contrast was more or less a universal trope that extended across 1950s jazz production. The pairing of standard “blowing” choruses with composed passages therefore brings into greater relief the difference between musical practices on Sketch while still enabling the type of semantic play related to counterpoint achieved in Lewis’ fugal works for the MJQ discussed earlier.

Indeed, like the fugal works and the “La Cantatrice” movement of The Comedy, Lewis uses the Sketch theme as a means of linking contrapuntal practices in the work. Composed lines in the bass and vibes can be seen to evoke the first instance of counterpoint in connection with the theme beginning in measure 21 (example 4.11).

19 Lewis used four trumpet players on this recording: Melvyn Broiles, Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger and Joe Wilder. The soloist(s) on “La Cantatrice” and “Piazza Navona” are not noted in the liner notes or in any related material. 147

Example 4.11 Sketch (1959). Polyphonic thematic setting mm. 21 – 25. Published Score [Set in Finale].

Although Lewis’ score does not indicate an interpretive style, the passage is swung, conjuring some rhythmic elements of Ring practices. However, the cushion of strings that supports the theme is not designed to invoke jazz sonorities and the Beaux Arts String Quartet’s connection to the world of Western art music signifies some distance in this passage from vernacular African-American music. It is therefore in the chorus section that follows this passage that Heath and Lewis can be seen to revise this contrapuntal setting through the implementation of vernacular practices. Example 4.12 depicts Lewis’ scoring for the first 8 measures of open improvisation, beginning in measure 35 of the work, and example 4.13 depicts Heath and Lewis’ interpretation of this section.

Example 4.12 Sketch (1959). First 8 measures of open improvisation. mm. 35 – 42. Published score [Reduced and set in Finale].

148

Example 4.13 Sketch (1959). Atlantic LP 1345. Interpretation of first 8 measures of open improvisation (piano and bass). mm. 35 – 42. Transcription.

In contrast to the improvisatory passage from “La Cantatrice” discussed above, Lewis leaves this section devoid of melodic material in the soloist’s part. Chord changes and rhythmic notation for the bass, along with the instruction for the drums to “ad lib” are the only guidance given in the score, allowing this material to be interpreted as if it were a jazz lead sheet. Yet Heath and Lewis both construct their improvised parts in relation to figures from the opening thematic passage outlined in 4.11. Measures 35 and 37 in the piano (example 4.13) evince a slightly more staccato iteration of the motif found in the vibes part in measure 21 (example 4.11) and while the bass avoids the syncopation of example 4.11, it alternates movement with the theme in the end of measures 35 and 37 thus echoing the rhythmic dovetailing of example 4.11. Omitting a part for Jackson in which he too might improvise contrapuntal lines does limit the potential extent of Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) in Sketch. However, the revision of thematic material in this passage by way of the “walking bass” allows for a heightening of the vernacular voice when Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) does occur through the use of a convention endemic to the spectrum of jazz styles.

The examples above illuminate the inner-workings of only some of the pieces discussed in the first half of this chapter but they are useful models for understanding issues and constructs that extend across the surveyed period. A significant finding of this analysis is the possibility that some instances of contrapuntal paradox in Lewis’ works for both the MJQ and larger ensembles may have emerged as a result of collaborative effort. Subject quotations in the backings to Lewis’ solos during the episode sections of Concorde and Versailles are of ambiguous origin but remain effective in playing dual musical roles, signalling fugal elements as well as vernacular presence. Similarly, the examples of Duvivier and Heath’s contrapuntal lines in Lewis’ extended works both realize the practice of the improvised “walking” bass while

149

echoing composed contrapuntal passages from earlier in the works. Lewis’ control over these particular sections is unclear and competing reports on the extent of improvisation and pre- planning during this period, discussed in the first section of this chapter, only entrench the uncertainty. However, there are moments where the Afro-Modernist tension of Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) can be clearly linked to Lewis’ influence, both in the selection of works released on double-sided records or albums as well as in Lewis’ own approach to comping on the more vernacularly aligned tracks of these releases. Therefore, as shown in this subsection, the Signifyin(g) embedded in fugal expositions discussed in Chapter Two is only one element of this particular compositional strategy. Furthermore, the double-voiced use of counterpoint during this compositional period can be seen to extend beyond the fugal realm.

Acknowledging a double-voiced design in which the vernacular practice of polyphonic improvisation conjures allusions to Western art music challenges Lewis’ marginalisation from African-American expressive culture. In relation to the fugal works, Owens (1976) identification of fugal processes can now be understood as a manipulation of vernacular practice rather than a move towards European parity. Furthermore, the independent contrapuntal lines of other MJQ works that emerge through use of the walking bass and improvisational comping can be valued as devices of rhetorical commentary rather than as mere symbols of Western art music.

4.2.2 Thematic Repetition While these aspects of Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) are often collaborative, Lewis’ sole influence on double-voiced elements is less ambiguous in terms of the structural design of his works. His role as the central organiser of pieces throughout the 1952-1962 period comes across in his comments regarding compositional process discussed in Chapter Three. Afro-Modernist tension related to the structural aspects of these compositions can therefore be attributed to Lewis’ authorship alone.

Many of Lewis’ works that were designed to take advantage of the new venue creation project surveyed in Chapter Two appear to coalesce around the vernacular practice of thematic repetition. The term “thematic repetition” is used here to refer to an African-American approach towards thematic variation, identified by Snead (1981) and problematised in Chapter

150

One, as opposed to the Western art music concept of “thematic development,” a convention through which a theme may be transformed both melodically and rhythmically over time. Snead’s reading of thematic repetition in African-American culture holds that African- American music avoids monotony by focusing on the vertical aspects of the thematic setting without altering, to any extensive degree, its temporal components. Alteration of a theme’s harmonic or timbral elements, as well as shifts in the role of instruments surrounding thematic statements are all means of inducing thematic repetition, whereas motivic development in which melody and rhythm are altered is not. This reading of the trope is supported by Stuckey’s (1987) identification of repetitive melodic figures and phrases that operate as part of Ring practices, as well as Stefano Zenni’s (2001) assertion that aural cultures tend to utilize “additive form” as a structural tool. Zenni’s term, “additive form,” echoes Snead’s (1981) thematic repetition trope in its description of linked episodes of related content that create “a simple linear sequence” (Zenni, 2001, pp. 2-3). He goes on to write:

From a purely formal viewpoint, jazz composers, inspired by African performance practices, tend to be less interested in the horizontal dimension (development) than in the vertical dimension of overlapping musical layers (Zenni, 2001, p. 3).

Yet traditional understanding of “development” in Western art music does not disregard the vertical dimension. This can be seen in Webster’s (2010) definition of the term set out below:

Development. The procedure, particularly in a Sonata form movement, by which some or all of the thematic material from the first section (the exposition) is reshaped motivically, harmonically or contrapuntally, or in any combination of those ways (Ger. Entwicklung); hence the term ‘development’ is also applied to the section itself (Ger. Durchführung). It usually ends with a harmonically more stable passage preparing (the retransition) for the last section (the recapitulation) by emphasizing the dominant of the tonality of the movement (Webster, 2010, ¶1).

Out of the three means of creating thematic variation cited by Webster (2010), only the motivic aspect of development takes place exclusively in the horizontal dimension. As both the Western art music and vernacular approaches to thematic variation appear to occasionally fuse

151

or overlap, the question of which approach Lewis is utilizing does present when interpreting his work.

Some support for the view that Lewis operates from a thematic repetition bent can be found in his verbal distancing of himself from Western art music structures. In an interview with Whitney Balliett for instance, Lewis asserted that “music should have surprise in it, and too much fugue or any formula like that takes away the pleasure, which is what bothers me about the Third Stream and what Gunther Schuller has been trying to do. I’m not interested in that” (Balliett, 1971, p. 169). While this statement was made nearly a decade after the Atlantic release of the Third Stream Music LP and should be read in the context of a shifting marketplace, its content echoes the tone Lewis adopted when defending accusations that his writing relied too heavily on Western art music forms during the 1950s:

Have we played out our use of fugal structures? We only play three – Concorde, Versailles, and Vendome. We don’t use Fugue for Music Inn in the book. Not yet, anyway. So that’s only three things… My writing is going to change anyway… we have to keep going back into the gold mind. I mean the folk music. The blues, and things that are related to it (Hentoff, 1957a, p. 15).

This latter comment was made the year after Lewis composed his first brass work, Three Little Feelings, and while it may be impossible to separate the convention of thematic repetition entirely from thematic development, a distancing from the Western art music realm in this interview and in the many comments documented in Chapter Three allows for an examination of his works’ structural components along vernacular lines. From this perspective, the ambiguity that exists between thematic development and thematic repetition can be seen to work in favour of the Signifyin(g) process. Both versions of The Comedy along with the work Three Little Feelings evoke a primary level of Western art music expectation by way of their multi-movement layouts. As a single movement work, Sketch less overtly signals Western art music organisational features but like Lewis’ works for brass ensembles, utilizes an instrumentation set that establishes distance from African-American vernacular music. All four of these works then tease expectations through their implementation of thematic repetition, a

152

trope that masquerades as thematic development but steers clear of associated horizontal variation techniques.

In Three Little Feelings, this process begins with the theme of the first movement (example 4.14) stated in the opening measures by unison horns, trombones and trumpets and juxtaposed against a thematic revision that meets Floyds’ (1995a) definition of call-response design (see discussion on pp. 29-30). The opening motif of this theme, identified in example 4.14, is then treated as a unifying riff varied throughout the movement by way of unique timbral settings. At measure 13, the riff is used as backings to a composed trombone solo, maintaining its rhythmic and melodic character but shifting in prominence from foreground to background (example 4.15).

Example 4.14 Three Little Feelings (1956). First thematic statement. mm. 1 – 5. Published score [Reduced and set in Finale].

153

Example 4.15 Three Little Feelings (1956). Riff statements. mm. 13 – 20. Published score [Reduced and set in Finale].

This effect is reversed in the following 8 measures when the riff is scored into the debut of the solo trumpet part and the secondary thematic material from the trombone solo is scored at a quieter dynamic in the first and second horn parts (example 4.16).

Example 4.16 Three Little Feelings (1956). Riff statements. mm. 21 – 28. Published score [Reduced and set in Finale].

154

The timbral shift that occurs in these riff statements, largely as a result of changed instrumentation, is employed again at measure 70 when the motif occurs once again as part of a complete thematic statement scored into the tuba part (example 4.17).

Example 4.17 Three Little Feelings (1956). Tuba thematic statement. mm. 70 – 73. Published score [Reduced and set in Finale].

After a second movement in which various improvisatory settings take over the role of establishing Afro-Modernist tension (discussed in the final part of this chapter), the practice of vertical riff variation returns. The third movement begins with a new theme played by the solo horn against a sustained tuba pedal (example 4.18).

Example 4.18 Three Little Feelings (1956). Thematic repetition in third movement mm. 6 – 10. Published score [Reduced and set in Finale].

155

This theme then appears in octave horn parts at measure 14, in a unison double trombone and baritone line at measure 18 and in a call and response passage between the horns and trumpets beginning at measure 62 and ending at measure 78 (see table (h) in Appendix (c)). Lewis rarely varies the rhythm or pitch content of the riff in these settings, allowing it to present differently as a result of timbre alone.

Structural Signifyin(g) in both the brass and MJQ version of The Comedy occurs similarly. A Western art music expectation arises from the aggregate multi-movement organisation of the works, an intent confirmed by Lewis’ comment in the 1960 score that “the compositions herein presented are part of a Suite” (Lewis, 1960, p. 2), and each movement is organised around various settings of a unique theme. This approach highlights the Commedia dell’Arte influence by allowing the thematic material of each movement to become aligned with individual characters, while simultaneously employing a vernacular based organizational concept that performs a Signifyin(g) revision of Western thematic development. Both the MJQ and brass versions utilize parallel effects to this end and such similarity calls into question Kramer’s (1960; 1962) disparate labelling of these works based on a perception of different levels of pre-planning.

Thematic variation in the “La Cantatrice” movement of both versions of The Comedy is a useful place to start this discussion as it presents the clearest example of a thematic repetition approach that emerges in connection with different themes across the work: the alternation of polyphonic and homophonic textures as a means of colouring thematic statements. As discussed in section 4.2.1, the opening thematic statement of the brass version of “La Cantatrice” utilizes displacement, establishing polyphony as the first aesthetic property connected to the theme (see example 4.8, p. 145). The second thematic statement moves towards a homophonic context, swapping displacement for the textural elements of a repeated ostinato in both the horn and percussion parts, juxtaposed against the theme in the piano (example 4.19).

156

Example 4.19 The Comedy (1960). “La Cantatrice” Second thematic statement. mm. 25 – 39. Published Score.

After a brief transitional passage, the second half of the theme is repeated in similar scoring, with the addition of a bass part that doubles the piano, before giving way to the polyphonic trumpet and bass interplay outlined in example 4.10 on p. 146. The final statement of the theme, beginning in measure 130, then again returns to the mainly homophonic setting of example 4.19. In this instance, Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) can be seen to play a part in structural organisation, its presence indicating at times a Western art music origin while its function is linked to vertical permutations of thematic material.

The MJQ version of the “La Cantatrice” movement enables variation of thematic material along similar lines. It is the only movement of the MJQ recording of The Comedy scored for a vocalist, and the part, sung by Diahann Carroll, plays a central role in the thematic repetition around which the work is organised. The movement begins with overlapping statements of the theme starting with the vibes followed by the bass and ending with the voice on scatted

157

syllables. Carroll goes on to sing the theme a second time over an ostinato figure played by the drums and vibes at (1:29). Like the brass version, an element of polyphony is still present in the two independent lines yet the replacement of overlapping thematic statements with an ostinato figure results in a more homophonic feeling than the preceding passage. This texture gives way to unison playing during the third statement of the theme at (2:00) in the bass, piano and voice. Carroll’s fourth thematic statement (2:26) is then supported by independent backings comped in the piano, bass and drums. The remaining three sections continue to draw their distinctiveness from either polyphonic backings paired with thematic statements (2:26, 4:06) or from the unison scoring of thematic statements (4:28) (see table (i) in Appendix (c)).

This use of alternating polyphonic and homophonic sections in the aid of thematic repetition occurs in the “Polchinella”/“Pulcinella” movements of both works as well.20 In the brass version, “Polchinella,” the theme is first stated in unison between the piano and bass after a short opening passage in which a two-note motif cascades through the ensemble (example 4.20). This statement is accompanied only by a repeated drum pattern, inducing a more or less homophonic texture.

20 Lewis altered the spelling of this movement of The Comedy between 1960 and 1962. The published score of the 1960 brass version lists the movement as “Polchinella” while the 1962 recording has the movement listed as “Pulcinella.” 158

Example 4.20 The Comedy (1960). “Polchinella” Introduction and opening thematic statement. mm. 1 – 14. Published Score.

After a short transitional passage in which the opening motif recurs, the theme is again stated in its entirety, only this time it occurs in the first and second horn part and is coloured by call and response ascending M7 intervals played between the trombone and trumpet sections (last measure of example 4.20 and first three measures of example 4.21).

159

Example 4.21 The Comedy (1960). “Polchinella” Second thematic statement. mm. 15 – 21. Published Score.

After a return of material from the opening bars in measures 23 and 24, a 45 measure bridge leads into a piano solo section that covers the majority of the remaining work (see table (j) in Appendix (c)). The theme then returns with the exact setting of example 4.19 in measure 130 to end the movement.

Like the brass version, the small group arrangement has the first statement of the theme doubled between the bass and the piano (:20) with accompanying drums. The second thematic statement is repeated in the piano at (:53) with the theme again accompanied by alternating ascending and descending M7 leaps, this time stated in the vibes, thus resulting in a polyphonic texture. A transitory passage between the second thematic statement and the solo section is then heard, employing material from the brass version before giving way to Jackson’s improvisation beginning at (1:35). Finally, Jackson’s improvisation is capped at (3:45) with a restatement of the second thematic setting, thus ending the work (see table (k) in Appendix (c)).

The similarity of thematic treatment in both versions of the “La Cantatrice” and “Polchinella”/“Pulcinella” movements of The Comedy is unsurprising given the fact that the latter is modelled on the former. Yet such an observation does seem to call into question whether both versions were not extensively pre-planned. Furthermore, the alternating polyphonic/homophonic settings of thematic material that realize organisational practices amidst the “Suite” format seem to present beyond Lewis’ multi-movement works as well. 160

This can be seen in the Sketch, where Lewis’ repeated use of the theme is coloured by the addition of juxtaposed melodies, some derived from the theme, others not. The first thematic statement of this work occurs in the string quartet between measures 9 and 16 (example 4.22). This eight-measure theme repeats, in its entirety, four times over the course of the work. The first statement at measure 9 is scored in octave unison with the exception of a pedalled A in the cello at measure 14. A four-measure transitional passage starting at measure 17 then leads to the second occurrence of the theme played by the vibraphone at measure 21. While the pitches remain constant in this second thematic statement (except for the two eighth note embellishments in measure 27), a shift from homophonic to polyphonic scoring occurs with the bass playing an independent line underneath the vibes (see example 4.11, p. 148).

Example 4.22 Sketch (1959). Theme. mm. 9 – 16. Published Score [Set in Finale].

Lewis continues to exploit this textural effect in the third and fourth statements of the theme. The third thematic statement occurs again in unison in the string quartet (mm. 229-234). It is contrasted by the polyphonic context surrounding the statement of the theme starting in measure 235. At this point Lewis raises the level of polyphony in the thematic statement by introducing a piano part that enters with the theme two beats after the vibraphone thematic statement. Measures 235 until the end of the work ten measures later thus contain one independent thematic line played by the vibraphone overlapping with an independent thematic line played by the piano underscored by an independent melodic line played by the bass, all under a cushion of sustained strings (see table (l) in Appendix (c)).

161

Yet alternating polyphonic/homophonic thematic settings was not the only means of creating thematic variation in Lewis’ works. In a movement that occurs only in the small group arrangement of The Comedy, “Columbine,” Lewis utilizes changes in tonality as a way of creating sonoric variety. The movement opens with a theme stated in the vibes in the key of Db major (example 4.23).

Example 4.23 The Comedy (1962). Atlantic LP 1390. “Columbine” First three measures of first thematic statement. 0:00. Transcription.

The vibes then state the theme a second time at (:22), this time in Gb major, and with only slight rhythmic variation (example 4.24).

Example 4.24 The Comedy (1962). Atlantic LP 1390. “Columbine” Second thematic statement. 0:22. Transcription.

The quartet then breaks into a modulating passage that culminates in the third statement of the theme at (:52), and the beginning of “comped” time in the bass and drums (example 4.25).

Example 4.25 The Comedy (1962). Atlantic LP 1390. “Columbine” Third thematic statement. 0:52. Transcription.

This third statement of the theme in Bb major brings structural coherence to the movement through its similarity with the first two thematic statements. This effect is recreated throughout the work, setting full statements of the theme in a variety of different tonalities. Statements of the theme establish tonality in each of the three Db major passages (starting at :00, 1:53 and

162

3:23), each of the three Gb major passages (starting at :22, 2:36 and 3:40) as well as both Bb major passages (starting at :52 and 1:28) (audio examples 6-8).

Thematic repetition is used to extend overall structural coherence into the improvised solos as well. Lewis’ solo begins at the second Db major passage (1:53) and establishes the key change from Bb major through a statement of the theme with incorporated glissandos. As his improvisation progresses, excerpts of the theme continue to emerge, particularly in the form of rhythmic signifiers, and successfully blur the boundaries between spontaneous and pre-planned material. This use of motivic material in the solo itself, as opposed to the accompanying figures, brings another level of structural unity to the piece as the process of improvisation and composition appear to fuse (see table (m) in Appendix (c)).

A thematic repetition approach that melds tonal, timbral and textural strategies can then be seen to present in both the brass and small group arrangements of the “Piazza Navona” movement of The Comedy. In the brass version, the theme consists of a 12-measure call and response figure, stated initially between the trumpets and the horns in the key of Ab (example 4.26).

163

Example 4.26 The Comedy (1960). “Piazza Navona” Opening thematic statement. mm. 1 – 12. Published Score [Set in Finale].

164

The theme then repeats four times over the course of the movement. The second thematic statement begins in measure 13 with the opening figure transplanted from the trumpet parts into the horn parts and the response from the horns scored into the trumpet parts. This timbrel shift retains the Ab tonality but after a 9-measure bridge, the theme returns in the piano in the key of C major (example 4.27).

Example 4.27 The Comedy (1960). “Piazza Navona” Third thematic statement. mm. 34 – 45. Published Score [Set in Finale].

This statement employs both timbral and tonal effects without altering the aggregate rhythm of the primary call-response figure. Measures 34-39 in the piano part of example 4.27 mirrors measures 1-6 in example 4.26 and the sixteenth notes in both the trumpet and piano in measure 40 of example 4.27 mirror the sections marked fortissimo in measure 7 of example 4.26. The rhythm of the remaining measures in the trumpet and piano parts of example 4.27 in turn are a reiteration of the rhythm of the horn and trumpet parts in measures 8-12 of example 4.26. While this passage is notable for its timbral and tonal treatment of the thematic material,

165

Lewis adds an additional layer of Signifyin(g) to this passage in his treatment of the theme’s call and response aspects.

Whereas the initial thematic setting presented the theme through call and response scoring of the trumpet and horn sections across measures 1-6, the restatement of the theme in example 4.27 assigns responsibility for this material solely to the piano. Yet Lewis does not abandon the call and response aesthetic in example 4.27. Indeed, the trumpet part in measures 34-37 echoes the piano theme and then goes on to pre-empt the thematic figures of measures 38 and 39, foreshadowing the sixteenth notes that end these measures. Revision of the theme’s call and response design along these lines reinvents the vernacular elements embedded within the initial thematic statement, calling on them to serve a vertical function, while stripping them from the theme’s horizontal aspect.

The subsequent statement of the theme echoes example 4.27’s change in tonality by reverting back to Ab but departs from the example in its use of truncated thematic material. Beginning in measure 86, only the first four bars of the theme are heard, (example 4.28) paralleling the extraction of the opening motif in Three Little Feelings. Absence of the second half of the theme does not detract from the passage’s organizational role of articulating unaltered melodic and rhythmic material from an opening statement. It simply draws attention to one particular aspect of this statement. Variation of this material is then achieved by offsetting statements in the horns, trombones and tuba parts.

166

Example 4.28 The Comedy (1960). “Piazza Navona” Fourth thematic statement. mm. 86-89. Published Score [Set in Finale].

The fifth thematic statement of “Piazza Navona,” beginning in measure 210, then illustrates a return to the full length and style of the opening call and response scoring but includes a four- measure cut time passage that splits the first eight measures of the theme from its final four (example 4.29). In addition, the final four measures of the theme are transposed into C major and utilize the textural setting of the last four bars of the third thematic statement (see example 4.27).

167

Example 4.29 The Comedy (1960). “Piazza Navona” Fifth thematic statement. mm. 210- 225. Published Score [Set in Finale].

168

Although the four-measure modulatory passage does increase the overall length of the statement, the thematic material itself in example 4.29 does not undergo augmentation or diminution, relying on its timbral, textural and tonal elements to provide sonoric variety alone.

While this effect is not replicated exactly in the small group version of the work, differing settings of thematic material are paired in the final thematic statement, echoing the organisation of the brass version from the standpoint of compositional process. Mirroring the piano and trumpet call and response in example 4.27, Lewis begins the small group arrangement of “Piazza Navona” by stating the theme in the piano twice in its entirety while the vibraphone improvises response figures (audio example 9). Lewis then adapts the 9 measure bridging section from the brass work to the quartet but omits the third thematic statement, transitioning instead to a 16-measure improvisatory section. This section is followed by a resetting of the four-measure truncated theme from example 4.28 and a prolonged improvisatory section that ends with a final thematic statement (see table (n) in Appendix (c)). Like the ending theme of the brass version, Lewis again scores a cut-time four measure passage between the eighth and ninth measures of the theme but in a departure from the brass version, reintroduces material from example 4.28 over the final four measures of the statement, instead of modulating to a different key. The fact that the process of assembling these final measures parallels the brass version even though their content does not, may indicate that the earlier version of the work served more as a conceptual model for the small group arrangement rather than as a direct prototype.

The identification of overlapping approaches towards thematic variation examined in this section is useful in the fleshing out of at least one component of Lewis’ compositional style. While thematic material is sometimes repeated in its entirety and sometimes truncated to form shorter riffs, permutations of this material in the works surveyed here are consistently congruent with its initial melodic and rhythmic presentation. Therefore, instances of repeated thematic material described in this section can be read as exclusively utilizing vertical variation strategies. These strategies do not operate in a cultural vacuum and carry significance for those familiar with both practices of thematic development as well as practices of thematic repetition. However, the avoidance of horizontal variation and the historical context developed in Chapters Two and Three of this thesis suggest that such ambiguity has the potential to be

169

read as a purposeful masking of vernacular practices. If an African-American approach to thematic repetition is indeed being employed in these works in order to replicate Western art music constructs, then this particular aspect of Lewis’ compositional style can be viewed as intrinsically tied to the Signifyin(g) core of the Afro-Modernist uplift strategy.

4.2.3 Embedded Vernacular Forms Most instances of Lewis’ use of 12-bar blues forms and simple harmonic vamps in his 1950s compositions stand apart from the Signifyin(g) approach described above. In works that utilize these structures, Afro-Modernist tension tends to result from their positioning against material that evokes Western art music connotations, rather than alterations made to the forms themselves. Examples of this pairing can be found in both works composed for the MJQ (La Ronde Suite, Django) and in works for larger ensembles (Three Little Feelings, the “Polchinella” movements of The Comedy) thus demonstrating its use in a plurality of settings across the 1952- 1962 period.

The 1955 recording of the La Ronde Suite accomplishes this goal by utilizing the multi- movement expectation induced by the term “Suite” to present a series of variations on the 1952 La Ronde form (see table (c) in Appendix (c)). Each movement in the La Ronde Suite is therefore roughly similar in structural design to the 1952 model, utilizing alternations in tempo and featured soloists as a means of creating diversity (see table (o) in Appendix (c)). Embedded within these movements are extended improvisatory passages that occur over the 12-bar blues form. While the blues form itself is not modified to invoke Western art music alignment, its use across the movements, grouped by the term “Suite,” creates Afro-Modernist tension at the macro-level. This approach differs from Lewis’ scoring of thematic repetition, in which thematic statements masquerade as part of thematic development. While some tension exists between the pre-planned aspects of the movements and the embedded blues, the blues itself in these settings cannot be read as anything but a vernacular form. The most salient aspect of semantic play therefore results in the accounting of the centrality of the blues to each movement in connection with the work name.

Contrasting this approach is the pitting of Western art music and blues derived sections against each other within discrete movements of The Comedy. In the brass version, blues based

170

improvisatory sections emerge in “Polchinella” after the 45 measure double-time transitional section that follows the second thematic statement. Importantly, this transitional section is comprised of dissonant M7 and m2 leaps along with dissonant cluster chords played by Lewis during the stop-time passage beginning at measure 42. Although the rhythmic accompaniment is swung throughout this passage, there is a sense of influence from outside African-American music in the featuring of dissonance. The two blues choruses Lewis performs following this passage then articulate the work’s vernacular side before a return to the straight-time opening theme redirects the listener to outside influences. Organisation strategies in this work may be tied to thematic repetition, as described in the preceding section, but it is clear that the use of the blues form does not serve a parallel organisational role. The tension related to its presence can instead be best understood as a function of its contrast to the composed passages by which it is bracketed.

This is not to suggest that Signifyin(g) practices do not occur at levels beyond that of formal structure during the 12-bar blues passages. Lewis Signifies on the dissonance of the transitional section of “Polchinella” by incorporating chords in the brass based a m2 or tritone higher than the blues form chords outlined behind the improvising soloist during the 12-bar blues passages. This can be seen in Lewis’ juxtaposition of a Db major chord over the tonic C harmony, the use of a B major chord in connection with the sub-dominant harmony and the use of a Db major chord over the dominant harmony during both choruses (example 4.30). This approach creates a level of dissonance that contrasts the blues based improvisation during these measures and points to sonoric influence beyond the blues realm. Yet it does not alter the role of the blues form in the work, leaving its harmonic content unmasked.

171

Example 4.30 The Comedy (1960). “Polchinella” embedded blues with dissonant backings. mm. 72 – 88. Published Score.

The small group version of “Pulcinella” does away with this layer of Signifyin(g), allowing the blues choruses to proceed unencumbered by dissonant interjections. Indeed, Afro-Modernist tension is less prominent throughout the arrangement as repeated blues choruses make up the bulk of musical material (see table (k) in Appendix (c)). Like the brass version, the blues choruses are both introduced and ended by passages of scored dissonance. Jackson’s solo however extends for seven choruses beginning at 2:18, a length that greatly contributes to the compartmentalised feel of the work.

Lewis’ Django pairs different material in a similar manner, playing a IV-I vamp that incorporates a blues derived bass line off a chromatically shifting chord progression that emulates facets of gypsy-jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt’s harmonic approach. Givan (2010) identifies the latter to consist, in part, of harmonic modulations “partially driven by the use of strict motivic transposition, a simple technique on the guitar that involves simply shifting any 172

given fingering up or down the instrument’s fretboard” (Givan, 2010, p. 146). An examination of the opening bars of Lewis’ Django reveals a similar process at play with a motive repeated four times over the course of nine measures and the tonicisation of both chords iv and III by way of secondary dominants (example 4.31).

Example 4.31 Django (1954). Opening bars of lead sheet with added analysis. mm. 1 – 9. The New Real Book Volume Two [Reduced and set in Finale].

The chromaticism of this opening is echoed in the chord changes upon which Lewis and Jackson solo. Improvisatory passages that outline these modulations while employing blues sonorities provide a Signifyin(g) revision of the theme’s chromaticism. However, Lewis goes deeper than that. During this section, he also scores a four measure repeated vamp on the chords Gb7 and Db7 during which Heath performs the bass line below (example 4.32).

Example 4.32 Django (1954). Prestige LP 7057. Bass line over four-measure vamp. mm. 45 – 48. Transcription.

The prominence of the flat seventh in the riff and what could be construed as a IV-I chord choice given the modulatory nature of the work echoes Gospel and R&B organisational practices. Indeed, such “plagal” gestures form a central part of Kernfeld’s understanding of the connection between the two styles (Kernfeld, 2002, p. 635). The contrast of this section to the bulk of the Django aesthetic can therefore be seen as a juxtaposition of the repetitive Ring practices endemic to African-American musical production and the chromaticism of an individual style of jazz invented off the American continent. Such a reading is not meant to

173

depict Reinhardt as operating outside African-American expressive practice, certainly the tonal shifts and rhythmic stability of his motivic playing echoes the thematic repetition approach discussed earlier, it is simply meant to demonstrate that tension is induced through the purposeful juxtaposition of the chromatic harmony of applied dominant chords and vernacular vamping.

Lewis utilizes a similar IV-I vamp section in the second movement of his work Three Little Feelings but in contrast to Django, Signifies on the conventions of Western art music instead by slightly altering the intervals of the seventh chord. As mentioned earlier, this movement was notable not only in its slower tempo and departure from the thematic repetition processes at play during the first and third movement, but also in the extensive trumpet improvisations played by Miles Davis on the 1957 recording. The placement of this movement as a whole between movements in which improvisation is less pervasive generally aligns with the pairing approach cited in this section thus far. Yet an additional double-voiced aspect arises in the vamp section which departs from the “bluesy” feel of the Django vamp by employing alternating harmonisations of EbM7 and BbM7 chords in the brass ensemble (example 4.33).

174

Example 4.33 Three Little Feelings (1956). Second movement four-measure vamp. mm. 29 – 36. Published Score.

Shifting from a major-minor seventh chord sonority to a major-seventh chord sonority in this passage parallels the chordal Signifyin(g) Magee (2007) identifies in Miles Davis’ “Sippin’ at Bells” discussed in Chapter One. However, Lewis goes further in this example, not only replacing the pervasive major-minor seventh sonority with an alternate chord, but doing so in the context of a gesture aligned with Gospel and R&B music.

It is important to note that this example stands apart from the others surveyed in this section. A more common approach to the embedding of vernacular forms seems to have been to leave 12-bar blues structures and vamps unmodified in order to contrast the expectations induced by work titles, dissonant effects from outside African-American music and chromatisism. The graphing of dissonant chords on top of the blues form in the “Polchinella” movement of the brass version of The Comedy does indicate a level of Signifyin(g) occurring simultaneously, but it

175

is not the blues form that is altered in this instance. Like the pairing of works leaning heavily towards either Western art music or the vernacular on Lewis’ MJQ recordings during this period, the overt contrast created by this approach provides a base level of double-speak requiring only a limited amount of knowledge to decode.

Lewis’ recruiting of new audience members during the 1952-1962 compositional period therefore appears as much tied to the technical end of his music as it does to the positioning and marketing of his works. The contrapuntal facets of these works often prompted Western art music comparison and can be seen, in this reading, as a means to an end, subversively introducing polyphonic improvisation, blues sonorities and thematic repetition practices to a new demographic. In turn, the multi-movement layouts of several of Lewis’ compositions enabled the artist to Signify on Western art music concepts of thematic development, allowing the African-American practices of riffing and thematic repetition to unite works while at the same time packaging these products in a format that echoed the conventions of Classical music. Masking IV-I riffs through harmonic shifts and pairing open improvisatory structures with pre-planned music further enabled works to emerge as double-voiced products at the macro level. All of these strategies reflect the rhetorical principles of the Signifyin(g) trope and all seem to have resulted in some degree of economic success. The touring schedules and recording contracts discussed in the first half of this chapter showcase developing interest in Lewis’ work and, as Percy Heath reflected, in the early 1960s, the group was making approximately $1,700 a week in profits while spending $25,000 a year on travel expenses, at one point having enough money to invest in a ski resort and set up a pension plan (Balliett, 1971, p. 164).

Yet regardless of economic success, the findings of this chapter demonstrate a level of vernacular presence in Lewis’ work beyond what is commonly accepted. Indeed much of the material of this chapter calls into question the central tenet of what is perceived to have driven Third Stream failure: the belief that too much structure impeded improvisation. Far from limiting improvisation, the repetitive thematic content of these works is shown to have frequently served as a foundation for improvised counterpoint, expanding improvisation beyond the solo section of the head-solo-head format by incorporating it into the “head” material itself. And even if improvisation is left to the side, so as not to essentialise the trope,

176

the use of blues structures, riffs and thematic repetition are so central to the works studied that a grounding in vernacular practice is difficult to ignore.

Innovative treatment of the vernacular would in turn follow Lewis as he embarked on writing music for film, a venture discussed in the following chapter. Revising the conventions of film noir scoring, Lewis worked with the vernacular trope of improvisation and the diegetic/non- diegetic musical conventions of the genre in order to expand the vernacular voice in film and put forth an argument to the industry that jazz could be used “to fill all of the needs of the motion picture” (‘Jazz in Films,’ 1959, p. 16). While the “masks” Lewis would use to this end differed from those surveyed up to here, the process would conceptually remain the same and points towards a consistent approach in Lewis’ compositional approach: the reinvention of hegemonic conventions.

177

Chapter 5 Afro-Modernist Subversion of the Jazz Deviance Trope in Lewis’ Film Noir Scores

The use of jazz in film noir scores of the 1950s has been conventionally viewed as a deviance trigger. While Richard Ness (2008) points to the music’s presence in both diegetic contexts as well as within the confines of Western symphonic scoring, assumptions of its significance remain constant: jazz served “as a trope for the darker side of the American urban experience” (Lopes, 2005, p. 1468). In many cases, this association was conjured by reducing jazz stylistic features to the level of musical cliché and aligning these musical passages with scenes of deviance and transgression. Ford (2008) charts the application of this convention in the films The Wild One (1953), The Sweet Smell of Success (1957), I Want To Live! (1958) and Compulsion (1959), establishing it as an essential component of noir scoring. Although not able to do away with the cliché entirely, Lewis’ scores to the noir films Sait-on Jamais (1957) and Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) expanded the use of jazz beyond the realm of the negative by allowing improvisation to underscore scenes of varying content. This strategy of turning a hegemonic text into a vehicle for promoting the vernacular can be read as a further permutation of Lewis’ Afro-Modernist compositional approach detailed in Chapter Four.

On the surface, there appear to be parallels between Lewis’ Afro-Modernist focus on structure during the 1950s and broader changes in Hollywood film scoring following World War Two. Regarding the latter, Richard Ness identifies a “move away from the nineteenth-century romantic model of film scoring” and an increase in the use of “more modernistic devices, such as serial and twelve-tone constructions” (Ness, 2008, p. 53). Butler (2009) points to the presence of these new devices in Lewis’ score for Odds Against Tomorrow, highlighting their role in realizing script writer Abraham Polonsky’s vision of a soundtrack written in a “modern, moody [and] sometimes progressive jazz vein” (Butler, 2009, p. 232). Yet a modernist drive towards structure in film music and an Afro-Modernist drive towards structure in jazz promote different core agendas. Ness connects the use of dissonant serialism in 1950s films to an attempt to “undermine the security of more conventional film scores” and challenge “the sanctity and security of home and family that had been reinforced in many pre-war Hollywood productions” (Ness, 2008, pp. 52-3). Functioning as a political statement, the dissonant structures Ness refers to carry a direct semantic relationship with the agenda they advance. In contrast, Afro-Modernist works require compositional structures to utilize double-speak,

178

calling on their hegemonic alignment as a way of enabling the delivery of vernacular tropes. Lewis’ Afro-Modernist approach to the film noir genre can therefore be read as a manipulation of clichéd jazz reductions permeating the form at large. As Ford (2008) demonstrates, jazz use in film noir manifested largely as juxtaposed quasi-jazz vernacularisms against harsh narrative moments. Lewis’ scores subvert this convention, teasing vernacular presence away from negative narrative strains by way of diegetic “masks.” Once positive connotations have been established diegetically, Lewis is free to utilize non-diegetic improvisation outside the deviance realm. While it is difficult to assert success of this strategy in terms of advancing vernacular presence in the film industry through any direct lines of influence, Lewis’ scores certainly appear to achieve his own stated goals of using jazz “to fill all of the needs of the motion picture” (‘Jazz in Films,’ 1959, p. 16).

5.1 “Crime Jazz” and the Jazz Deviance Trigger in Film Noir Berg (1978) locates the roots of the deviance cliché central to the noir sound in films produced as early as the 1920s. Jazz was utilized in these contexts to underscore “nightclub and party scenes,” highlighting the 1920s “contrapuntal reverberations” through a “paradigm of brashness, sensuality and revolt” (Berg, 1978, p. 2). Scott Yanow’s survey of jazz in early films reaches similar conclusions, noting the music’s frequent use in portrayals “of a carefree and reckless ‘jazz age’ filled with drunken youth, wild parties and flappers, usually leading to disaster and a conservative moral” (Yanow, 2004, p. 1). Often these associations where made with the complicit (if not active) consent of jazz figures featured in the films. The 1934 film short entitled Cab Calloways’ Hi-De-Ho stands as a pertinent example, casting Calloway as a supernatural seducer of women who entrances victims through his radio performances and then magically appears in their living rooms with the intent of consummating the relationship.

The sexual innuendo of this short, while effective in articulating the jazz stereotype, demonstrates just one facet of the jazz/danger associations of early film. Often the portrayal of jazz musicians additionally accented the “primitivist myth” surrounding the music, discussed at length in Chapter Three. Louis Armstrong had fallen particular victim to this type of representation in 1932, dressed in a leopard skin and made to perform for the king of “Jazzmania” in the film A Rhapsody in Black and Blue and later portrayed as a jungle cannibal in the Betty Boop cartoon I’ll Be Glad When You’re Dead, You Rascal You (1932). Such depiction

179

would have, according to David Goldmark, served to remind audiences “that Armstrong [was] still a denizen of the jungle himself” and that listening to jazz could carry perilous repercussions (Goldmark, 2005, p. 2).

The early associations of these shorts remained connected to the music as it transitioned from diegetic contexts to a clichéd reduction of itself in non-diegetic symphonic film scoring of the 1950s. Examples of this approach permeate the film noir genre, a style many regard as “easier to recognize… than to define” (Naremore, 1998, p. 9). Attempts at summarising the noir construct span decades (Durgnat, 1970; Schrader, 1972; Silver & Ward, 1992; Pfeil, 1993; Vernet, 1993), with perhaps the most inclusive interpretation put forth by Naremore (1998) in his overview of a “loose, evolving system of arguments and readings” that draws broadly on the negative in human relationships (Naremore, 1998, p. 11). Associations derived from this system inspire a related web of visual imagery (“low-key photography, wet city streets”) and narrative traits (“pop Freudian characterizations… [a] romantic fascination with femme fatales”)(Naremore, 1998, p. 9)). Building on this loose foundation, Ford (2008) describes how jazz was reduced to the level of caricature and used as an articulation device for the truly depraved aspects of an overwhelmingly negative landscape (Ford, 2008, p. 116). This cliché would be used with such frequency in the 1950s that it would eventually develop its own moniker in anthologies of film noir music: “crime jazz.”21

The extent to which “crime jazz” reflected actual jazz compositional processes is limited. Ford summarises the sound of the trope as the assembly of “musical codes” that are “exotic in a generic sense... without belonging to any specific place” (Ford, 2008, p. 118). Its creation relied on the reduction of Latin and American popular music to core components and then the reassembly of these components into a stratified texture juxtaposed against a walking bass. As Ford explains:

This music is less jazz than something written to sound like jazz. The polarity between walking basses and the figures superimposed against them becomes a metonymic reduction of the jazz sound, something composers rely on to conjure up

21 Ford points to the term’s use by “collectors of obscure vinyl” and in the recently collated Crime Jazz: Music in the First Degree (Rhino 72912) and Crime Jazz: Music in the Second Degree (Rhino 72913) when sourcing its origin (Ford, 2009, p. 117). 180

an image of jazz and all that is associated with it: shades and beret, a smoky club after dark, etc. What this suggests is that composers seeking to depict jazz rather than simply write it will intensify that polarization between bass line and horn figure, or, more abstractly between figure and ground (Ford, 2008, p. 123).

Ford uses Henry Mancini’s score to the Orson Welles’ film Touch of Evil (1958) to provide evidence of this effect, outlining the stratified music that begins the film as follows:

After a unison fanfare that hammers out the tonic, a taunting percussion ostinato begins, at first slowly and then locking into a groove. At measure 16 the first ostinato line enters in the saxophones; at measure 30, a new line enters in the trombones, accompanied by a new bass ostinato. Then at measure 42, the texture splits into five layers: the percussion, the bass ostinato, a baritone sax ostinato, the trombone line (now doubled in the trumpets), and a new ostinato – a leering figure in alto and tenor saxophone (Ford, 2008, p. 120).

A reading of this cliché as deviance trigger can be seen in Ford’s subsequent assessment that: “Here Henry Mancini does with a complex multilayered groove what the camera does in images, striking the film’s tone of menace, its looming promise of interest to be paid on an accumulated debt of wicked deeds” (Ford, 2008, pp. 119-20). Further examples of pairing the “world” of percussion sound, bass ostinato, and layered horn lines of Ford’s model with moments of transgression are illuminated in his discussion of the noir classics The Wild One (1953) with music by Leith Stevens, The Sweet Smell of Success (1957) with music by Elmer Bernstein, I Want To Live! (1958) with music by Johnny Mandel and Compulsion (1959) with music by Lionel Newman.

Yet, it becomes apparent in a survey of these films that the trope’s effectiveness is tied to more than just its presence in scenes of negative content. In order for the cliché to work, the “crime jazz” sections of the score needed to be juxtaposed against opposing musical styles. The 1958 Robert Wise film I Want to Live! demonstrates this imperative clearly. In it composer John Mandel and director Robert Wise use moments of Hollywood style symphonic scoring along

181

with classical music to signal moments of transcendence and sacrifice, while “crime jazz” is left to stand alone as the signal of deviance and doom.22

The film is a biopic of Barbara Graham, a California born prostitute and con artist, who was arrested and convicted of murder in 1953, causing a great deal of controversy in the United States. In the film Graham is portrayed as both a member of the California underworld and as an innocent victim, resulting in a persona ripe for the application of contrasting musical styles. This juxtaposition is evident in video examples 1 and 2. In video example 1, Graham, waiting to be executed, sits in her cell listening to a jazz program on the radio. The music switches over to the news and her guard begins to search for a new station. Graham directs the guard to stop at the sound of classical piano with the line: “There, leave that…” and then the revelation, “There’s lots of long-hair music I like.” This exchange transitions to Graham’s reflection on self-sacrifice. In an attempt to console the prison guard who is struggling with a failed marriage, Graham describes the pain of giving up her own marriage for the sake of her husband’s career. The scene is ultimately one of transcendence, with the condemned counselling the free through a parable of sacrifice and forgiveness. Video example 2 in contrast finds Graham asleep in her cell. She is in the throes of a nightmare and while the content of her dream is left intentionally unclear (it could be about the truth of her innocence, it could be about her impending execution) the “crime jazz” background is successful in suggesting only dark possibilities for its content.

Lewis’ soundtrack to the 1957 film Sait-on Jamais differs significantly from I Want to Live! in that jazz tropes are utilized not only with greater frequency but more importantly as signals of transcendence and hope. Moments of dark in Lewis’ score continue to echo the clichés of “crime jazz,” often beginning with a bluesy bass motif followed by stratified entry of piano and vibraphone, yet moments of light are cast more directly in the vernacular realm, accompanied by improvisations performed by Lewis and MJQ vibraphonist Milt Jackson. Many of these positive scenes take place early in the film and utilize diegetic sound sources, enabling positive vernacular implications to emerge without challenging the standardized non-diegetic use of the

22 I Want to Live! (1958) is also notable for its diegetic use of jazz in club scenes that establish Graham as a deviant character. Live performances in the film utilize a septet comprised of Art Farmer, Pete Jolly, Shelly Manne, Red Mitchell, Gerry Mulligan, Frank Rosolino and Bud Shank. 182

“crime jazz” cliché. Subsequent blurring of diegetic and non-diegetic distinctions allows for improvisation to transition fully into the non-diegetic realm.

5.2 Subverting the Jazz Deviance Trope: Sait-on Jamais (1957) The route to Lewis’ involvement in the project along with his reinvention of hegemonic conventions follows a logical trajectory when viewed in the context of both the creation and promotion of double-voiced texts discussed in the earlier chapters of this thesis. Appropriation of hegemonic spaces evident in the MJQ’s shift from club to concert dates in the mid-1950s for instance aligned readily with the format of American jazz consumption in France as described by Elizabeth Vihlen (2000), making a transition to the European market a rational next step for the group. While the attraction of jazz for many of the French rested on a perception of its anti-establishment orientation, market engagement continued to take place mainly under the auspices of establishment venues (Vihlen, 2000, p. 157). The Jazz at the Philharmonic [JATP] and Birdland All-Star [BAS] tours of 1956 (the latter of which marked the MJQ’s first visit to the Continent) both utilized institutional support in tapping a French jazz audience. The tours relied heavily on the Salle Pleyel venue, the Parisian equivalent of Carnegie Hall, and employed a broad approach to audience recruitment that included widespread advertising and the removal of potential attendance deterrents such as alcohol consumption and smoking from performance spaces (Vihlen, 2000, p. 157). While this approach to marketing met with “the chagrin of French [jazz] fans” who, according to Vihlen, viewed such presentations as “inauthentic,” its success in attracting a large and diverse audience in connection with the 1956 JATP tour was enough to warrant a similarly choreographed return tour in 1957 (Vihlen, 2000, p. 157).

The Afro-Modernist tension of many MJQ works was well suited to meeting the demands of both the old and new consumers that comprised this broad demographic. This is perhaps most evident in the group’s success as both an establishment festival act and as a more traditional club act in Paris. Following the group’s 1956 BAS tour, the MJQ was offered a two-week residency at the club Saint-Germaine, which according to Thierry Lalo (1991), resulted in “completely packed” performances every night (Lalo, 1991, p. 69). In 1957, the group returned to Europe and France as part of the JATP tour but continued to reach out to the more vernacular oriented, anti-establishment set described by Vihlen through the Parisian

183

production of The Modern Jazz Quartet plus Jazz Group De Paris (1958), which contained substantial blues influenced improvisation by Lewis and Jackson on the tracks Bluesology and Bags Groove.

Most importantly in relation to the argument presented in this chapter, the double-voiced aspects of MJQ music echoed French developments of the film noir genre during the same period. As Ginette Vincendeau (2007) explains, in an attempt to expand film noir beyond clique status in France, French productions of the form between the late 1950s and early 1960s tended to cast its dark narrative strains against spectacular visual imagery, thus challenging standard noir conventions (Vincendeau, 2007, p. 42). She cites the Mediterranean setting of René Clément’s Plein Soleil (1960) as proof of this stylistic shift although the Venetian landscape of the Roger Vadim film under scrutiny in this thesis, Sait-on Jamais (1957), serves as an equally pertinent case in point. Indeed both films help illustrate Vincendeau’s definition of a discrete French film noir style relying on a “paradoxical relationship between visual style and narrative ideology” (Vincendeau, 2007, p. 45). This approach to the form allowed the policier (French noir genre) to grow in appeal, attracting an audience outside the noir demographic through its use of spectacular visual imagery, eventually driving the genre to account for “a quarter of French film production” between the late 1950s and early 1970s (Guérif, 1981, p. 75). Lewis’ syncretic concept therefore offered a sonic parallel to the paradox identified by Vincendeau (2007). Its placement of overt vernacularisms in moments of light in the film would in turn embrace a further play on conventions, articulating a Signifyin(g) revision of the form aimed at subverting the noir deviance trope.

The plot of Sait-on Jamais follows the character Sophie, played by Fraçoise Arnoul, as she attempts to break free from her long time caregiver, the Baron Eric von Bergen, played by O.E. Hasse. The Baron, in addition to his role as Sophie’s protector, is an expert forger with a staff of criminal accomplices. Early in the film Sophie meets Michél, a photojournalist, who impresses her with his honesty and legitimate income and the two begin a romantic relationship. Distressed by Sophie’s new-found love, the Baron confides to an underling named Sforzi that he has deposited millions of pounds into bank accounts across the Continent bearing Sophie’s name. Sforzi seduces Sophie away from Michél in the hope of winning access to the hidden money. He kills the Baron when told of his change of heart

184

regarding Sophie and Michél’s relationship along with his intent to transfer control of Sophie’s assets to Michél. Michél suspects Sforzi of the Baron’s murder and after uncovering evidence to this effect in Sforzi’s possession, the two are involved in a chase across rooftops that ends in Sforzi falling to his death.

Lewis’ score for the film draws heavily on six different works: The Golden Striker, One Never Knows, The Rose Truc, Cortege, Venice, and Three Windows. Recordings of these pieces can be heard on the album No Sun in Venice, released after the film in 1957. In both the film and on the soundtrack recording (variations in arrangement and improvisation do exist between the two), the works are presented as the alternation of thematic head arrangements with improvisatory solos performed by Lewis, Jackson and Heath. The composed themes evince Lewis’ penchant for “masking” thematic material with European sonorities, most evident in the use of a fugal veneer on the work Three Windows (Owens, 1976, p. 31). Yet the improvisations that follow the head arrangements make freer use of rhythmic swing and blues sonorities. The connection of this latter type of vernacular engagement with themes of transcendence begins early on and is largely tied to the character Sophie.

Sophie’s struggle towards liberation in turn is at least tangentially connected to her burgeoning relationship with Michél. Not only does Michél offer Sophie a chance to move beyond the confines of the Baron’s villa, he is able to do so without the aid of ill-gotten funds. The pairing of improvisation with this thematic strain begins diegetically in a club that Michél has brought Sophie to on a date. The two discuss their feelings for each other while pointedly avoiding conversation about their problematic past relationships. There is the sense that while both share troubled pasts, their meeting indicates a new beginning. In the background, Milt Jackson improvises over the form of the Three Windows theme and is supported by bass, piano and drums. This performance transitions to a new piece, The Rose Truc, in which the theme is quickly followed by a vibraphone improvisation over the harmonic form. The club setting suggests the music’s diegetic function, allowing the hopeful content of the scene to connect with the jazz score without conflicting with noir strictures. The Baron’s protégé Sforzi then enters and asks to speak with Sophie alone. They walk over to the bandstand and the platform is revealed to be empty, causing the music to shift from diegetic to non-diegetic function. Sforzi tries to convince Sophie that Michél will be a bad influence on her and this

185

admonishment combined with the non-specific jazz sound source activates the jazz deviance trope.

The following scene then subverts the deviance cliché by blurring the lines between diegetic and non-diegetic improvisation. Leaving Sforzi on the bandstand, Sophie convinces Michél to come back to her room in the Baron’s villa so that they can listen to music in a private setting. The camera cuts from their entry to Sophie’s bedroom, where a vibraphone improvisation over a 12-bar blues is used to underscore their flirtations. The audience is led to believe, based on Sophie and Michél’s earlier conversation that a record player is the sound source for the music, but the sound quality of the improvisation indicates the music was mixed into the film in post-production. In addition, there is no visible record player and the earlier club scene (in which the music shifts from a diegetic to a non-diegetic role) puts the sound source in doubt. After a brief interlude in which Sophie tells the Baron of Michél’s visit, Sophie returns to the room and appeals to Michél to rescue her from the Baron’s control. Their subsequent tryst is accompanied by another vibraphone improvisation, played over The Rose Truc chord changes while ambiguity regarding the sound source remains.

The use of improvisation as a signal for Sophie’s potential rescue in both the bar scene and these early bedroom scenes establishes positive connotations in connection with the vernacular device. Once cemented as a symbol of Sophie’s redemption in ambiguous diegetic/non- diegetic settings, the convention is made available for non-diegetic use. This is evident in the scene in which the Baron informs Sforzi he plans on transferring money out of Sophie’s accounts into Michél’s control. The first part of their conversation, in which Sforzi tells the Baron that Sophie is beginning to remember signing papers setting up the accounts and that he intends to steal the money, is underscored by both the Three Windows theme and the Cortege theme played in succession with no improvisatory transition. As the Baron produces a letter to the bank outlining his wishes, Jackson begins to improvise on the chord changes to Cortege and Sforzi articulates his distress that his plans to drain Sophie of her inheritance have been ruined. The music then abruptly stops as Sforzi tells the Baron that he has no choice but to kill him. The non-diegetic improvisation in this scene draws a distinction between the Baron’s well- intentioned, if belated, support for Sophie and Sforzi’s nefarious plans to strip Sophie of her

186

millions. It functions as a symbol of liberation, echoing the early connotations of the trope established in scenes of Sophie and Michél’s courtship.

This symbolic meaning is brought into clearer relief by the nature of the music, an obvious “crime jazz” cliché. A four-note motive, typically beginning in the bass, signals the start of these passages (example 5.1):

Example 5.1 Sait-on Jamais (1957). “Crime Jazz” Cliché Bass Line. 00:06:36 Transcription.23

Statements of this motive are then frequently followed by fugal expositions of the Three Windows theme (example 5.2). When paired with the solo bass motive of example 5.1, the stratified entry of voices activates Ford’s (2008) description of the trope. As demonstrated in Appendix (d), occurrences of the “crime jazz” cliché (highlighted in red) tend to correspond with scenes including the character Sforzi, emphasizing its use as a deviance trigger.

Example 5.2 Sait-on Jamais (1957). “Three Windows” theme. 00:06:38 Transcription.24

The employment of composed music (a fugue no less) as a signal for deviance and vernacular based improvisation as a signal of hope shifts the balance of positive associations in the film in favour of the vernacular. The continued use of the “crime jazz” cliché in turn maintains, at least superficially, the conventions of the genre, allowing its unique relationship with jazz to continue to set it apart from other film styles. These two facets combine to create a double- voiced text typical of Afro-Modernism. Hegemonic conventions are not challenged directly but

23 It is likely that the following transcribed figures were actually written a semi-tone lower and that the speed of the film has caused them to sound in the key area in which I have placed them. I infer this from the identification of Chopin’s Waltz in A minor Op. 34 No. 2 listed in the Sait-on Jamais soundscape (Appendix (d)), which sounds as if it is being played in Bb minor. 24 The grace note and “A#” in the first full bar of this theme occurs only in the passage transcribed here, all other occurrences utilize a dotted crotchet “A” natural. 187

capitalized on as recruiting tools. Those accustomed to the clichés of the noir genre would likely have been satisfied by Lewis’ score, yet they would have simultaneously been exposed to a vernacular presence of greater expanse than normal strictures allowed.

While the use of diegetic props like the record player and the jazz club must be indebted to the script, Lewis’ choice to use improvisation in connection with light narrative moments beginning in these scenes appears to have been made by him alone. According to Lalo (1991), Lewis worked on the score in connection with the script but without input from abroad while on tour in the U.S. between February and March 1957. The score was then recorded on April 4th in a 5th Avenue studio, a process that, at least in part, involved “improvising directly from images on the screen” (Lalo, 1991, p. 70).25 The quick recording schedule and precise placement of these improvisations (detailed in the soundscape that forms Appendix (d)) seems to indicate pre-planning. For instance, the yellow highlighted rows of the appendix show that before improvisation was used in non-diegetic scoring connected to light narrative moments, it was applied in ambiguous settings connected to these same narrative strains. Furthermore, it occurred only once non-diegetically in connection with a nefarious character (Sforzi’s encounter with the detective). The latter scene, in turn, seems more concerned with hinting at Sforzi’s undoing rather than his manifestation of evil. If, as suggested here, such consistency reflects conscious choice, a reading of Lewis’ score as evincing Afro-Modernist tendencies becomes increasingly plausible.

Yet Lewis’ score has been given little scholarly attention from either the Afrological or Eurological camps. Such delayed analysis may be due to the film being overshadowed by the more successful collaboration between Miles Davis and Louis Malle on Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud (1958). Ascenseur has been discussed both in relation to French noir developments (Frey, 2006; Vincendeau, 2007) as well as the noir genre at large (Butler, 2002). While Sait-on Jamais is mentioned as part of these discussions, Ascenseur’s status as a Prix Louis-Delluc winner seems to award it a more prominent space in the canon. Still, both works share a good deal of music worth comparing. Writing the score in December of 1957, Davis appears to have embraced a parallel approach to Lewis, utilizing diegetic “masks” to move vernacular tropes

25 The original text in French reads: “improvisant directement à partir des images qui défilent sur l’écran installé pou l’occasion.” 188

outside moments of deviance. As both composers had been involved in expansionist projects throughout the late 1940s and early 1950s, it seems appropriate to provide a brief overview of Davis’ contribution to the noir genre in order to trace the extent to which the jazz deviance trope was eroded before Lewis would begin work on his next noir project, Odds Against Tomorrow.

5.3 Subverting the Jazz Deviance Trope: Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud (1958) Davis was recruited to write the music for Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud during his 1957 stay in Paris. His Parisian tour was preceded by two years of performances with a quintet comprised of saxophonist John Coltrane, bassist Paul Chambers, drummer Philly Joe Jones and pianist Red Garland. Taking over a residency at the Club St. Germain, Davis hired Barney Wilen on tenor sax, Rene Urteger on piano, Pierre Michelot on bass and Kenny Clarke on drums, replicating the instrumentation if not the sound of his successful American ensemble. This group of musicians produced all of the music for the film on the night of December 4th, 1957 (Dambre, 2006, p. 16).

Unlike Sait-on Jamais, Davis’ score to Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud can be roughly interpreted as the employment of two contrasting jazz styles. The first and most prevalent is that of the minor jazz ballad. This style functions similarly to the non-diegetic “crime jazz” cliché, serving as backdrop to all of the murders in the film as well as underscoring scenes of hopelessness and desperation that follow in their wake. Davis utilizes the same reductive model described by Ford (2008), juxtaposing “bass line and horn figure[s],” although unlike the scores of his Hollywood counterparts, much of Davis’ “crime jazz” appears to be the result of improvisation (Davis, 1989, p. 217; Dambre, 2006, p. 16). The second musical style applied in the film is up-tempo bebop, emerging from car radios and motel record players. This contrasting genre is used as an anthem of youthful innocence, paralleling the redemptive associations of improvisation utilized in Sait-on Jamais.

The plot follows two couples engaged in various levels of crime. The older couple, played by Jeanne Moreau and Maurice Ronet, conspire to murder Moreau’s husband. After completing the job, Ronet becomes trapped in an elevator and his car is stolen by the younger couple, played by Georges Poujouly and Yori Bertin. The seemingly light-hearted escapade of Poujouly

189

and Bertin ends three quarters of the way through the film when they murder an elderly German tourist and his wife while attempting to steal another car. The innocence of the younger couple’s escapade in the first part of the film contrasts the distress Moreau and Ronet experience in the aftermath of their crime.

Bebop is aligned with innocence early on through its diegetic manifestation in scenes involving the younger couple. The first of these takes place in Ronet’s stolen car as Poujouly and Bertin race down the highway. The theft, while a criminal act, is framed in youthful naïveté, demonstrated by the couple’s fascination with the vehicles mechanical features: a convertible roof and high-tech car stereo. Like the diegetic music accompanying scenes in Sophie’s bedroom in Sait-on Jamais, Davis’ improvisations are mixed into the film sound track in post- production, only this time, there is no ambiguity regarding the source of the sound. Bertin’s raising and lowering of the volume on the car stereo corresponds directly to changes in the volume of the post-production mix. The thematic associations of bebop and innocence are then solidified in a subsequent scene in which Poujouly and Bertin pretend to be married after taking the stolen car to a hotel. The two accept an invitation to dine with two German tourists and Poujouly attempts to convince the couple that he served as a legionnaire during the Algerian War. The German’s assess his age and realize this is impossible but indulge the fantasy as entertainment over the course of the evening. Poujouly’s youthful innocence prevents him from realizing he is being made the butt of a joke and up-tempo bebop emerging from a record player visible in the background accompanies the humorous repercussions. The film then cuts to Ronet trapped in the lift, desperately trying to figure a way out so that he can escape from the scene of the murder. The trumpet and saxophone riffing of the motel dinner scene gives way to a slow layering of bass, drums, piano and trumpet accompanying shots of both the inside and outside of the lift. In both scenes, jazz is the only music heard, yet its presence evokes contrasting sentiments rather than just the dark aspects of the noir narrative (video example 3).

The meaning assigned to the contrasting musical styles in video example 3 is reiterated in the scene depicting the younger couple’s descent from petty to capital crime. Leaving the motel in the middle of the night, Poujouly attempts to steal the German couple’s sports car. After several false starts, the owner of the car appears with a gun and tries to stop Poujouly.

190

Poujouly responds by opening fire on the owner with his own gun, killing the owner and then his wife as she rushes to his aid. The score leading up to the killing uses the layering of bass and horn associated with Ronet, depicting the younger couple as definitively guilty for the first time. The remainder of the film uses only this “crime jazz” style of scoring, pairing it with each characters’ increasingly desperate attempts to avoid punishment for their crimes.

While good and evil continue to be represented by binary musical constructs in Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud, it is no small observation that both musical styles are in fact sub genres of mainstream jazz that rely heavily on improvisation. This shared origin both upholds and erodes the deviance trope by calling on the vernacular to activate both light and dark aspects of the film narrative. Indeed, like Sait-on Jamais, in order to maintain the conventions of the genre, Davis utilizes the diegetic masks of the radio and the record player in his scoring of positive scenes. Unlike Lewis’ score however, scenes pairing improvisation and positive messages do not transition to the non-diegetic realm.

5.4 Subverting the Jazz Deviance Trope: Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) The linking of improvisation with various narrative strains in film scores following the American release of Sait-on Jamais and Ascenseur in 1958 demonstrates that interest in such an approach was not fleeting. In 1959 alone, the American film market saw the release of the noir films Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) with music by Lewis, Anatomy of a Murder (1959) with music by Ellington and Strayhorn, and the avante-garde Shadows (1959) with music by Charles Mingus and Shafi Hadi. Of these three scores, Lewis’ work on Odds stands out for both its overt engagement of the post-war dissonant tropes outlined by Ness (2008) as well as its frequent use of non-diegetic improvisation. Yet unlike his earlier score for Sait-on Jamais, Lewis utilizes improvised passages in this film in connection with a variety of opposing thematic strains. The inconsistency in the pairing of improvisation and narrative content demonstrates a shift in the meaning of vernacular presence, moving it from the role of mere “signal” to a more integrated effect by which a variety of implications are able to be realized. This type of scoring demonstrates further liberation of the vernacular voice from the jazz deviance trope.

Even when music is left to the side, Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) can be read as a film designed to break down industry barriers. It signified a series of “firsts” in Hollywood, among

191

them: the first film produced by an African-American (Harry Belafonte) and the first film noir with an African-American protagonist (also Belafonte).26 The buzz surrounding these milestones was enhanced by Belafonte’s refusal to play into African-American stereotypes in the script, articulated to the press months before the films release as follows:

The Negro always has played the same film part or a variation of the same part. Take my good friend Sidney Poitier; he always plays the role of the good and patient fellow who finally wins the understanding of his white brothers. Well, I think the audience is ready to go beyond even films like The Defiant Ones. I think they would be terrifically relieved to see on the screen the Negro as he really is and not as one side of a black- and-white sociological argument where brotherhood always wins in the end (Nason, 1959, p. X7).

Such a desire for real human nuance contrasted the “Freudian characterisations” of the noir genre, throwing into jeopardy conventional depictions of good and evil. Building on this concept, the emerging plot necessarily recast typical two-dimensional “heist” characters as three-dimensional battlers: struggling men navigating a complex range of racial prejudices, constructs of masculine loyalty, and the weight of familial responsibility.

Lewis’ recruitment as composer for the film appears to have arisen from an attempt to carry such themes of ambivalence into all areas of production. While the 1958 release of Sait-on Jamais in the US had brought little critical acclaim, Lewis’ performances of works composed for the film in newly created “modern music” venues similar to the ones discussed in Chapter Two advertised both the syncretic, double-voiced qualities of his compositional style as well as his new found connection with the film idiom. In the second in a series of four “Music for Moderns” concerts performed at Town Hall in June of 1957, Lewis and the MJQ presented four of the six works composed for Sait-on Jamais, causing Dom DeMichael to applaud Lewis’

26 In addition to the politics of race, Belafonte sought to wage a quieter political battle in the film’s production by enlisting blacklisted writer Abraham Polonsky to write the script (Schultheiss, 1999, p. 137). Polonsky won recognition in Hollywood as an exceptional scriptwriter following his 1948 noir classic Force of Evil but was blacklisted for his leftist sympathies by the congressional hearings of Senator Joseph McCarthy in 1951 (Schultheiss, 1996, p. 148). Polonsky continued to work as a television writer in New York during the 1950s, but was forced to use other writer’s names as “fronts” and to tone down the leftist sympathies that had brought about his blacklisting (Schultheiss, 1996, p. 149). 192

use of fugal devices as contributing to works of “considerable charm” before suggesting that such compositions might indicate a “film with some depth” (DeMichael, 1957, p. 19). In a somewhat harsher take on a 1958 concert in the New York Times, John Wilson pointed towards the music’s incorporation of European sonorities as a negative but continued to affirm Lewis’ new position as a film composer, writing: “Much of the latter half of the program was devoted to selections from the score written by Mr. Lewis for a film, ‘No Sun in Venice.’ Although they were occasionally absorbing, these pieces wore thin in concert form and seemed less infused with a jazz spirit than the hardier, more proven numbers in the Quartet’s repertoire” (‘Jazz: Modern Quartet,’ 1958, p. 25). While neither review comes out in strong support of the music, both demonstrate acknowledgment that the key stylistic feature to Lewis’ film scoring was the pairing of vernacular and outside compositional elements. This broad understanding of Lewis’ music was important in paving the way for his inclusion in Odds, given screenwriter Abraham Polonsky’s expressed desire to utilize a “progressive jazz” soundtrack (Polonsky, 1999, p. 14). In addition, after the release of Sait-on Jamais, Lewis had become vocal about the multi- dimensional role jazz could play in film, telling Down Beat: “Jazz hasn’t been used yet to fill all of the needs of the motion picture. You haven’t heard jazz used with love scenes or certain dramatic situations. The answer is improvisation that can be as tender or as dramatic as the scene demands” (‘Jazz in Films,’ 1959, p. 16). It seems likely given these statements, that Belafonte’s presentation of Lewis to director Robert Wise before filming had finished in 1959 recognized the potential of a Lewis score to serve not only in meeting the technical requirements of the script, but also, as David Butler writes, “as a metaphor for the film’s narrative about disparate characters working together as they try to transcend their individual circumstances” (Butler, 2009, pp. 229-30).

The film plot follows the lives of three men operating with varying degrees of hostility towards the law. Burke, played by Ed Begley, is an ex-cop forced to retire in the wake of an ethics hearing. He recruits Slater, played by Robert Ryan and Johnny, played by Belafonte, to hold up a bank in the suburban town of Melton, New York. Slater, recently released from prison, agrees but becomes distressed once he finds out that Johnny is African-American. Johnny in contrast is initially reluctant but relents when his gambling debts are called in. The three are then required to work together to plan the heist while mitigating Slater’s prejudice, an ultimately futile act that ends in the demise of all three.

193

The use of improvisation and scored material in the film is mapped in the soundscape that forms Appendix (e). The scored material largely derives from the opening theme played under the starting credits transcribed in example 5.3.

Example 5.3 Odds Against Tomorrow (1959). Opening theme. 00:00:25 Transcription.

As noted throughout Appendix (e), repetition of motives “a” and “b” comprise the vast majority of composed material and Lewis employs a variety of timbral and textural effects in order to imbue distinction upon these statements. This process appears to mirror approaches to thematic repetition discussed in Chapter Four although a general lack of Ring tropes in these sections, as many critics of the Third Stream have suggested, seems to sever their connection to an Afro-Modernist agenda and move the work closer to Ness’ (2008) depiction of post World War Two modernist scores. The same cannot be said however for the role of improvisation. Improvisatory material in Odds can roughly be divided into two sets, one utilizing the electric guitar and one utilizing the vibraphone. Guitar improvisations employ pendular thirds and flat sevenths frequently while vibraphone improvisations take on the more chromatic elements of the bebop genre. The vibraphone carries additional significance in Odds in that it is connected diegetically with Belafonte’s character Johnny (a working jazz vibraphonist)(Butler, 2009, p. 230). As in Sait-on Jamais, Lewis utilizes improvisation in a diegetic setting first, establishing the trope’s connection with the multi-dimensional character Johnny, before allowing it to transition into the non-diegetic realm where it is left to conjure a variety of meanings.

The complexity of Johnny’s character unfolds in diegetic performances of two works written by Belafonte and arranger Milt Okun but performed by the MJQ with Belafonte as vocalist:

194

“My Baby’s Not Around” (1959) and “All Men are Evil” (1959).27 In connection with the first work, the camera cuts from Slater using a racial slur in reference to Johnny to a shot of Johnny performing in a jazz club. Belafonte pantomimes improvisation along to Milt Jackson’s vibraphone part while playing into stereotypes of the loose jazz musician (during the song the character’s gambling debts are called in and immediately after the performance he begins sweet talking an ex-girlfriend). After a meeting with the mob boss however, the tone of both the acting and improvisation changes. Gone is the easy confidence of the first scene as Johnny retakes the bandstand, now drunk and anxious. After constantly interrupting pop-jazz singer Mae Barnes with an unsolicited call and response, Johnny begins a frantic vibraphone improvisation that eventually causes the band to come to a halt. Here, Jackson’s sonic voice is united with Belafonte’s emotional state, revealing the potential for improvisation to convey complex emotions of distress, anger and guilt (as the film soon shows, Johnny is responsible for the financial stability of both an ex-wife and daughter, responsibilities he cares about but frequently shirks in favour of his gambling addiction). The tensions imbued by this characterisation consistently rise to the surface in moments of vibraphone improvisation, whether set diegetically or non-diegetically set.

Lewis segues between diegetic and non-diegetic settings through the use of an ambivalent sound source, paralleling his approach in Sait-on Jamais. This occurs in connection with the second instance of improvisation in the film, a passage arising underneath Slater’s entry into a bar. Polonsky’s script calls for an interior shot with a radio “humming old tunes” (Polonsky, 1999, p. 70) but in the released version of the film, this requirement is replaced by the MJQ performing what would come to be known as Cue #9 (1959) on the film soundtrack. The bar is populated by a young soldier, the soldier’s girlfriend and another male companion and upon Slater’s entrance the music grows louder, suggesting its diegetic role. As Slater sits and orders, the soldier demonstrates a self-defence move and inadvertently causes his male companion to collide with Slater. Jackson’s improvisation and embellishments of the Cue #9 theme underscore the altercation and Slater does his best to shake off the assault, embracing the

27 Authorship of these songs is attributed to Lewis in Michelle Best’s (1999) discussion of the Odds score but copyright registered to Belafonte and Okun credits the pair for words and music. Copyright for “My Baby’s Not Around” was first issued on March 5th, 1959 and caries U.S. Copyright Office [USCO] registration number EU0000565275. It was renewed on December 18th, 1987 with USCO registration number RE0000360706. Copyright for “All Men are Evil” was first issued on March 5th, 1959 with USCO registration number EU0000565274. It was renewed September 9, 1987 with USCO registration number RE0000349661. 195

moral qualities associated with Johnny. As the soldier continues his demonstration, this time with the girl as the model, Slater reaches his threshold of tolerance and the music cuts out in connection with the line: “Honey, if you’re goin’ to throw that bum, throw him the other way” (Polonsky, 1999, p. 73). This abrupt shift echoes Lewis’ cue underscoring the Baron’s murder in Sait-on Jamais, requiring improvisation to voice a particular narrative trait and then calling on its subsequent absence to voice opposing connotations.

Use of the vibraphone as an echo of Johnny’s character is embraced throughout the film and is highly notable for its colouring of meanings associated with the longest section of non-diegetic improvisation in the score. This passage accompanies Johnny, Burke and Slater’s trip up to Melton on the eve of the robbery. Johnny travels by bus while Burke and Slater travel by separate cars, leaving one half way between New York and Melton so that the group can split up after the robbery. Jackson begins improvising over a two-note ostinato figure as Slater tests the getaway car on a stretch of open road (Butler, 2009, p. 230). As Butler remarks:

What makes this sequence so striking is that Slater, a white racist, has his moment of emotional freedom accompanied by an improvised jazz solo played on the instrument diegetically associated with his colleague Johnny, the black jazz musician for whom he has nothing but contempt. Lewis underlines here, far more explicitly than anything in the script, the breakdown of the duality between Johnny and Slater. This point is of major significance – black jazz is employed to convey the innermost feelings of a white character (Butler, 2009, p. 230).

It seems that Butler’s ideas of this moment’s significance overlap with how it might be read in terms of a Signifyin(g) analysis. The use of jazz based improvisation in connection with Slater, the darkest character in the film, harks back to stereotypical jazz deviance associations, providing an initial level of meaning. Yet the music is also the anthem of the most morally aware character in the film, Johnny, and its use highlights the fact that Slater, while inexcusably racist, is on some level still trying to do the right thing; he is tied up in the same financial and familial responsibilities as Johnny and is endeavouring, like Johnny, to claw his way out.

196

Other scenes utilizing non-diegetic improvisation, especially those involving the guitar, are less clear in their intent. The ambiguity of such moments highlights the extent to which Odds signals a breakdown of jazz deviance conventions in film noir. This can be seen in the build-up to the robbery as the three main characters explore the town of Melton separately. Johnny and Burke spend their time in reflection, looking at the Hudson river while Slater hides out in the woods and attempts to hunt rabbits. A four-note variation of the ostinato that previously underscored his race down the highway returns and is accompanied this time by a slower guitar improvisation incorporating several pitch bends. Slater takes aim as a rabbit appears but in a shrug that suggests shooting the rabbit would be a pointless death, drops the weapon to his side. As the rabbit leaps away, Slater quickly draws the gun again and fires. The meaning behind these actions seems complex and the plurality of inferences that might arise when the improvised guitar accompaniment is also considered only heightens the ambiguity of the scene. What is clear, however, is that Slater is not a caricature of a cold-blooded killer. His hesitation denotes conflict and while his exact mental state is left uncertain, it is not grounded exclusively in evil (unlike, perhaps, the character Sforzi in Sait-on Jamais).

While the legacy of Odds is problematised largely in connection to the film noir movement (Butler, 2002; Cooke, 2008; Butler, 2009), Lewis’ approach to film scoring discussed throughout this chapter can be seen to have foreshadowed his work in the industry outside the noir genre. In 1959, he scored a documentary about refugees for the United Nations titled Exposure (1959) and three years later he would work with director Eriprando Visconti on the romantic drama A Milanese Story (1962). Both projects allowed Lewis to continue to move vernacular based improvisation beyond clichéd use in film, somewhat vindicating his views on the usefulness of the trope as an accompaniment for various narrative strains (‘Jazz in Films,’ 1959, p. 16). Certainly the few examples offered here do not speak to an onslaught of vernacular heavy film scores in projects outside the noir idiom. Yet they demonstrate willingness by producers, at least in some cases, to accept vernacular representation of emotions existing beyond the realm of the negative. Lewis’ involvement in these projects in turn seems to have been facilitated by the double-voiced aspects of his music that he had sought to develop throughout the mid-1950s. The reinvention of sound worlds through the innovative deployment of vernacular devices therefore both provided entry to, and characterised Lewis’ involvement within the film industry during the period surveyed in this

197

thesis. His approach to film scoring can therefore be aptly incorporated into the Afro- Modernist paradigm.

198

Conclusions

Reinvention of hegemonic conventions through the innovative deployment of vernacular devices is shown to be a central component of Lewis’ compositional style in the works studied in this thesis. Such an approach aligns with strategies of subversion inherent in African- American Signifyin(g) and “masking” practices detailed by Gates (1988) and Baker (1987) as well as compositional methods driving the expansionist agenda of Afro-Modernism outlined by Floyd (1995a) and Ramsey (2003). The clearest example of this approach can be seen in the way improvised counterpoint is used to create polyphonic effects that appear to align with Western art music conventions. Yet the way African-American thematic repetition practices are used to create a sense of thematic development in Lewis’ works also provides convincing evidence of a Signifyin(g) approach. The rhetorical device can in turn be seen in works that recruit from distinct cultural realms by juxtaposing vernacular improvisational structures against passages which allude to Western art music. In relation to Lewis’ film noir scores, the double-voiced trope is evident in the pairing of improvisation with light narrative moments. These findings provide evidence that Lewis utilized African-American rhetorical practices during the 1952-1962 compositional period, challenging essentialist readings of his music that isolated him from African-American expressive culture. Such realignment carries with it implications for how Floyd and Ramsey’s extension of the Afro-Modernist paradigm might be applied to the spectrum of 1950s jazz developments and more generally, extends the parameters of what could be viewed as constituting participation in African-American expressive culture.

A sense that African-American “assimilationists” were unfairly marginalised from the African- American expressive realm drives both Baker’s Blues, Ideology, and Afro-American Literature: A Vernacular Theory (1984) and Modernism in the Harlem Renaissance (1987). However, artists associated with Third Stream music were not incorporated into the fold as Baker’s thoughts were appropriated into the musical realm. Musicologist Samuel Floyd accepted the late 1940s works of the Miles Davis nonet as Afro-Modernist texts, pointing to their use of “European structures” as a compositional approach “Harlem Renaissance thinkers would have embraced” (Floyd, 1995a, p. 164) but viewed the works of John Lewis and the MJQ as going too far. In making this assessment Floyd relied on the “balance” criteria of authentic jazz production put

199

forth by the pan-European school, indicating that a lack of improvised content made it impossible for these works to be incorporated into the African-American expressive realm. The use of such criteria demonstrates an inconsistency in Floyd’s methodology. In his reading of William Grant Still’s Afro-American Symphony as well as Davis’ nonet works, Floyd focuses on historical intent rather than “balance.” His discussion of Lewis’ works and the Third Stream movement in contrast commits to an assessment based on a listing of musical features, failing to read how the aggregate of these features functioned in an historic context.

This thesis attempted to rectify this understanding by first demonstrating that the works of syncretic jazz composers and Lewis in particular during the 1950s were conceived during a period of transition in the jazz market. The shift in record company support from big bands to individual vocalists in the 1940s left an employment and audience hole in the jazz industry (Lopes, 2002, p. 225). While several artists designed syncretic projects utilizing both Western art music and African-American vernacular sonorities during this period in an apparent attempt to regain economic traction, most struggled to package their works in a manner that consistently enabled financial success. Fortunately, the modernist concept of jazz as a developing music advanced by Marshall Stearns and others at tertiary institutions during the late 1940s and early 1950s opened up a new type of venue primed specifically for the promotion of syncretic projects: the University campus. Access to University venues was initially limited to white syncretic jazz groups, yet African-American syncretic composers were simultaneously able to capitalize on increasing modernist interest by opening parallel “Modern” music venues built on the foundation of established African-American musical spaces. Analysis of works by Charles Mingus and John Lewis performed in these spaces, undertaken in Chapter Two of this thesis, revealed the enactment of a musical agenda aimed at sustaining audience members who appreciated vernacular elements while recruiting audience members unfamiliar with these elements. Syncretism in this strategy was realised through the employment of vernacular tropes in the reinvention of Western art music sonorities; Mingus’ work Revelations was shown to have evoked affinity with serial composition by way of polyphonic improvisation that took place across his large ensemble while Lewis’ work Concorde was shown to employ fugal expositions driven by the call-response aesthetic of the blues. Taken in connection with comments regarding a grounding in vernacular compositional

200

approaches made by both artists, this reading of Third Stream works challenges Floyd’s assessment which excludes them from the body of African-American cultural products.

A rationale for looking deeper into Lewis’ oeuvre in particular is demonstrated in the following chapter by pitting Lewis’ stated goals against popular press assessments that effectively marginalised his work from the African-American expressive realm. The first half of this chapter detailed how essentialisation of a frenetic, spontaneous rhythmic aesthetic in discourse surrounding African and African-American musical production played a central role in determining authenticity across political avenues of jazz criticism in the 1940s and 1950s. The masks of counterpoint and multi-movement formats utilized by Lewis are then shown to have pushed to the side discussion of rhythm in his critical appraisals and subsequently cast his work against established notions of “genuine” jazz. Although Lewis attempted to articulate the vernacular roots of his compositional approach in early interviews, his continued engagement with Western art music sonorities during the 1950s prevented him from shaking critical allusions to Western art music composers and European culture. Such a style of criticism occasionally even resulted in the representation of Lewis’ behaviour as being distinct from perceived African-American cultural norms. Such dissonance between Lewis’ critical reception and stated intentions necessitated the wider reassessment of his compositions that took place in Chapter Four.

Based on the findings of Chapter Two, an Afro-Modernist model of analysis was determined to be the most appropriate tool for carrying out this reassessment. Through this lens, the paradox of counterpoint – its ability to induce a critical response full of both European and New Orleans style jazz allusions – was determined to have resulted in Lewis’ works from a purposeful organisational strategy in which improvised polyphonic counterpoint varied pre- planned contrapuntal passages. The variation often involved the quotation of pre-planned material, thus blurring the lines between pre-planned and spontaneous passages. In the case of Lewis’ fugal works, improvised counterpoint meeting the Western art music criteria of polyphonic episodic content was evaluated as deployment of vernacular practices in the construction of a fugal mask. Similarly, improvised counterpoint resulting from the “walking bass” scored underneath thematic statements in the “La Cantatrice” movement of The Comedy was posited to function as a vernacular contrapuntal practice utilized in order to replicate the

201

aesthetic of Western art music style polyphony that begins the work. The early MJQ double- sided release of The Queen’s Fancy and But Not For Me in turn was read as a dialogue between contrapuntal practices in which the improvised polyphonic section on the latter track revised the straight-time composed counterpoint on the former, extending (while complicating) the presence of Western art music aesthetics across the release as a whole.

Further discussion in Chapter Four demonstrated that the organisation of thematic material in Lewis’ works constructed affinity with Western art music aesthetics in a similar way. Like the use of pre-planned counterpoint, the multi-movement layouts of Lewis’ arrangements of The Comedy and Three Little Feelings enabled an expectation regarding Western art music to arise, only this time at the level of compositional form. Repeated themes and riffs that manifested variation vertically conjured alignment with certain aspects of thematic development, but the omission of a horizontal component simultaneously suggested a relationship with African- American practices of thematic repetition outlined by Snead (1981) and Zenni (2001). While overlap exists between these two compositional approaches, Lewis’ Western art music training at the Manhattan School of Music and distancing from Western art music formal processes in interviews adds weight to an interpretation of his compositional paradigm to be viewed as the purposeful application of a vernacular organisational strategy in the creation of a thematic development guise.

A systematic approach to thematic repetition utilizing polyphonic textural effects that overlapped with Contrapuntal Signifyin(g) was then identified. This finding is clearest in discussion surrounding Lewis’ scoring of the “La Cantatrice” and “Polchinella/Pulcinella” movements of both the brass and small group arrangements of The Comedy. In these works, alternating homophonic and polyphonic thematic settings help set apart rhythmically stable thematic statements. At the same time, some instances of polyphonic variation are also achieved through the use of improvisation. A web of associations can therefore be seen to emerge when decoding these works: scored counterpoint taking place in connection with a thematic statement links to Western art music while aiding a vernacular organisational practice; improvised counterpoint taking place over a later thematic statement enables a thematic development mask while revising Western art music expectations induced by earlier passages of scored counterpoint. The existence of such reflexive properties leaves little doubt regarding

202

the composer’s purposeful engagement of rhetorical principles of double-speak widespread in African-American expressive culture.

Yet not all Signifyin(g) practices taking place in Lewis’ works involved such levels of integration. The final section of Chapter Four provides examples of double-voiced connotations that arise only when a work is considered as a whole. The embedding of 12-bar blues forms in the middle of each movement of the La Ronde Suite provides evidence of this approach in its purposeful positioning of an open-ended vernacular form against a title designed to invoke Western art music expectations. Lewis does not Signify on the blues as a formal structure in this work (it is in fact left un-manipulated) but by juxtaposing the form against the term “Suite,” he is able to create tension between vernacular and Western art music aspects at the macro level. A similar strategy was observed in Lewis’ use of IV-I “plagal” vamps in Django and Three Little Feelings although the latter work has the added complexity of Signifyin(g) on the vamp convention itself. The modulatory nature of the Django theme and chord changes evokes distance from harmonically stable forms of vernacular music but the embedded vamp redirects the listener back towards these practices. Similarly, the multi- movement layout of Three Little Feelings signals a Western art music expectation but the IV-I vamp in the second movement revises this expectation through the use of a vernacular structure. When perceived as an entire unit, the pairing of Western art music and vernacular elements in these works creates a base level of tension through which the engagement of diverse audience members can begin to take place.

As an extension of these findings, Chapter Five examined the use of Signifyin(g) strategies in Lewis’ subversion of hegemonic structures in the film noir genre. Discussion of existing literature demonstrated that established conventions in the medium tended to limit jazz use to moments of transgression while using alternate styles of scoring to accompany light narrative strains. Through the use of diegetic masks in the Roger Vadim film Sait-on Jamais, Lewis was able to associate improvisation with the character Sophie’s struggle for freedom early on, enabling non-diegetic use of the trope in connection with the same narrative strain later in the film. Underscoring positive narrative moments with improvisation expanded the vernacular presence in the genre. This enabled the trope to articulate a range of emotions in Lewis’ subsequent score to the Robert Wise film Odds Against Tomorrow. While many aspects of

203

expanded vernacular use in Odds have already been depicted by Butler (2009), discussion in this chapter links the score, for the first time, with the Afro-Modernist paradigm. While the economic benefits of this approach are difficult to trace in the broader spectrum of African- American participation in film, Lewis, personally, was able to work in genres separate from film noir after completing these projects.

Alignment of Lewis’ works with the Afro-Modernist paradigm that takes place over the course of this thesis allows for a more nuanced understanding of what it means to produce African- American music. The works studied here are more than the first impression of their sonoric content – they are the musical embodiment of a rhetorical trope with deep roots in African- American expressive culture. Such a design upholds African-American cultural practice even as it produces content that challenges consensus surrounding what “real” African-American music sounds like. Acknowledging that this cultural foundation underlies the creation of several 1950s syncretic jazz works, many of which garnered the Third Stream label sets the stage for increasing historical revision of the period.

For instance, Porter rightly identifies a shift in the overtness of Ring tropes in the works of Charles Mingus following his scoring of Revelations, but couples this observation with the statement that “Mingus’s music became, in a sense, ‘blacker’” (Porter, 2002, p. 117). On one hand, Porter is clearly right. The blues sonorities and rhythmic drive that permeate the 1959 albums Blues and Roots and Mingus Ah Um articulate a clear commitment to vernacular musical tropes. But pointing to the overt use of these tropes as the essence of what it means to produce “black” music marginalises rhetorical processes that have been employed throughout the history of African-American music making, many times with the explicit purpose of masking such elements. Porter uses quotation marks around the term “blacker” in an effort to denote that it is perceptions of blackness to which he is referring and so it is not his reading of Mingus’ shift that directly requires revision. It is instead the perceptions to which he alludes that need to be challenged first and an Afro-Modernist analysis of Mingus’ early 1950s compositions along the lines undertaken in this thesis may aid in this endeavour.

Yet at the same time, it is important to acknowledge that the clarity of agenda that emerges from an Afro-Modernist analysis may not graph directly onto the intentions of the artists

204

studied. This is the sort of disconnect Ramsey is referring to when he calls on readers to view such assessments “with respect to the cultural work…[they are] performing” (Ramsey, 2001, p. 33). Can every use of Western art music sonorities by Third Stream artists be accounted for as part of a subversive plan to uproot the hegemony? It seems likely that such a reading would over steps the mark. But Afro-Modernist assessment of selected Third Stream works does force us to re-evaluate the role of the movement in preserving vernacular tropes after the 1940s big band decline. Such a reading allows for the possibility of a wider range of purposes being tied to the movement than current narratives allow and begs a closer investigation of the relationship between venues, audiences and artists. This refocusing accomplishes important cultural work, demonstrating that current readings of the movement miss many instances of unique vernacular deployment and possibly overestimate the assimilationist intent of participants.

Furthermore, by defining Afro-Modernist works as music that intentionally utilizes the Signifyin(g) trope, this thesis opens up participation in the African-American expressive realm to all who operate with the intent of masking vernacular elements as a way of aiding their expansion. Just as racial pedigree no longer holds sway over who might be viewed as legitimately contributing to the jazz canon, the valuing of process in this thesis shifts understanding of Signifyin(g) from something African-American artists do, to a strategy with which people producing African-American art, in a cultural sense, engage. Future analysis following this strain of thought might examine the manner in which Dave Brubeck assembled his late 1940s and 1950s syncretic works, touched on in Chapter Two, with particular focus given to the compositional devices at play in sections appearing to denote Western art music alignment. By valuing process in this way, works once marginalised from African-American culture on the grounds of a racialised reading of sonority are able to be problematised as a part of African-American musical discourse, broadening our understanding of how the expansion of vernacular elements takes place through the efforts of a diverse cohort of artists. The assessment of John Lewis’ works undertaken here takes only small steps in this regard but may prove useful as a model for future investigation.

205

REFERENCES

A New Approach to Jazz Concerts. (1954, December 15). Down Beat, p. 12.

A 'Precious Asset' For John Lewis. (1960, July 7). Down Beat, p. 9.

Abrahams, R. (1964). Deep Down in the Jungle: Black American Folklore from the Streets of Philadelphia. New Jersey: Aldine Transaction.

Agawu, K. (1995). The Invention of “African Rhythm.” Journal of the American Musicological Society, 48(3), 380-95.

Ake, D. (1998). Re-Masculating Jazz: Ornette Coleman, "Lonely Woman," and the New York Jazz Scene in the Late 1950s. American Music, 16(1), 25-44.

Atkins, T. (2001). Blue Nippon: Authenticating Jazz in Japan. Durham: Duke University Press.

Austerlitz, P. (2005). Jazz Consciousness: Music, Race, and Humanity. Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press.

Avakian, G. (1957). The Brass Ensemble of the Jazz and Classical Music Society. In Music for Brass (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. Columbia Records.

Baker, H. (1984). Blues, Ideology and Afro-American Literature: A Vernacular Theory. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Baker, H. (1987). Modernism and the Harlem Renaissance. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Balliett, W. (1971). Ecstasy at The Onion. New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Company.

Be-bop, Be-bopped. (1946, March 25). Time, p. 52.

Bebop to Carnegie Hall. (1947, September 24). Down Beat, 14(20), 5.

Berg, C. M. (1978). Cinema Sings the Blues. Cinema Journal, 17(2), 1-12.

Berliner, P. (1994). Thinking in Jazz. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Best, M. (1999). John Lewis and the Film Score for “Odds Against Tomorrow” Part II. In M. Myrack (Ed.), Odds Against Tomorrow: The Critical Edition. Northridge: California State University.

Bobbitt, R. (1964). Conference Sessions on Contemporary Music. Music Educators Journal, 50(6), 39-68.

Bonds, M. (1991). Wordless rhetoric: Musical form and the metaphor of the oration. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 206

Bosman, W. (1705). New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea. In J. Pinkerton (Ed.) (1814). A General Collection of the Best and Most Interesting Voyages and Travels of all Parts of the World. London: Private Publisher. Digitized by Google Books.

Bouchard, F. (2001). John Lewis: 1920-2001. Down Beat, 68(6), 22.

Bouchard, F. (2002). John Lewis: Hall of Fame. Down Beat, 69(8), 26-8.

Bourne, M. (1992). Bop Baroque The Blues. Down Beat, 59(1), 24-7.

Brackett, D. (1992). James Brown’s ‘Superbad’ and the Double-voiced Utterance. Popular Music, 11(3), 309-24.

Brandeis Arts Festival will Feature Jazz. (1952, May 21). Down Beat, p. 5.

Brown, L. (1999). Postmodern Jazz Theory: Afrocentrism, Old and New. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 57(2), 235-46.

Brubeck, D. (1950). Jazz’ Evolution as an Art Form. Down Beat, 17(3), 13,18.

Brubeck Dave is Campus Fave. (1954, October 20). Down Beat, p. 1.

Budds, M. (1978). Jazz in the Sixties. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press.

Burlin, N. (1919). Negro Music at Birth. The Musical Quarterly, 5(1), 86-89.

Burrows, G. (2007). Black, Brown and Beige and the Politics of Signifyin(g). Jazz Research Journal, 1(1), 45-71.

Butler, D. (2002). Jazz Noir: Listening to Music From Phantom Lady to The Last Seduction. Connecticut: Praeger Publishers.

Butler, D. (2009). ‘No Brotherly Love’: Hollywood Jazz, Racial Prejudice, and John Lewis’s Score for Odds Against Tomorrow. In G. Lock & D. Murray (Eds.), Thriving on a Riff: Jazz & Blues Influences in African American Literature and Film. New York: Oxford University Press.

Chernoff, J.M. (1979). African Rhythm and African Sensibility: Aesthetics and Social Action in African Musical Idioms. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Child, J. (1998). Machito. In D. Clarke (Ed.) The Penguin Encyclopedia of Popular Music (2nd ed.). New York: Penguin Putnam Inc..

Claude Thornhill to Disband Ork. (1948, June 2). Down Beat, p. 1.

Cœuroy, A. & Baker, T. (1929). Further Aspects of Contemporary Music. The Musical Quarterly, 15(4), 547-73.

207

Cooke, M. (2008). A History of Film Music. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Coss, B. (1963). John Lewis and the Orchestra. Down Beat, 30(4), 20.

Crease, S. (2002). Gil Evans: Out of the Cool, His Life and Music. Chicago: Chicago Review Press.

Crosby, I. (1971). Prophet Without Honor. Jazz Journal 24, 9.

Dambre, M. (2006). Ascenseur pour l'echafaud (Elevator to the Gallows, 1957): An Exclusive Interview with Louis Malle. South Central Review, 23(2), 12-21.

Davis, F. (1983). The Art of Fugue. The Village Voice, 28, 70,80.

Davis, M. (1989). Miles the Autobiography/Miles with Quincy Trope. New York: Touchstone.

Debois, W.E.B. (1953). The Souls of Black Folk. New York: Blue Heron.

De Michael, D. (1957). Modern Jazz Quartet, Music for Moderns. Down Beat, 24(13), 19.

De Micheal, D. (1961). Jackson of the MJQ. Down Beat, 28(14), 18-21.

De Micheal, D. & Welding, P. (1964). Jazz Basics: The Concluding Part of a History of Jazz on Record. Down Beat, 31(22), 25.

Deutsch, B. (1921). America in the Arts. The Musical Quarterly, 7(1), 303-8.

DeVeaux, S. (1991). Constructing the Jazz Tradition: Jazz Historiography. Black American Literature Forum, 25(3), 525-560.

DeVeaux, S. (1993). “Black Brown and Beige” and the Critics. Black Music Research Journal, 13(2), 125-146.

DeVeaux, S. (1997). The Birth of Bebop. Berkley: University of California Press.

Durgnat, R. (1970). Paint It Black: The Family Tree of Film Noir. Cinema, 6(7), 49-56.

Ellington, D. (1943). Spoken Introduction, Black, Brown and Beige: The Duke Ellington Carnegie Hall Concerts, January 1943. Prestige CD 2PCD-34004-2.

Ellsworth, R. (1957). Classic Modern. Down Beat, 24(14), 34.

Evans, M. (1993). The Roundtable on Integrative Inquiry. Published (1995). Lenox Avenue, 1(1), 5-61.

Evans, W.M. (1980). From the Land of Canaan to the Land of Guinea: The Strange Odyssey of the “Sons of Ham.” The American Historical Review, 85(1), 15-43.

208

Feather, L. Spotlight Review. Down Beat, 27(25), 36.

Feld, S. (1974). Linguistic Models in Ethnomusicology. Ethnomusicology, 18(2), 197-217.

Fenstermaker, A. (2008). Bridging the Gap Between (white) Metafiction and (black) Self Reflexivity (Doctoral dissertation, University of Rochester, 2008).

Finkelstein, S. (1948). Jazz: A People’s Music. New York: The Citadel Press.

Floyd, S. (1991). Ring Shout! Literary Studies, Historical Studies, and Black Music Inquiry. In G.D. Caponi (Ed.). (1999). Signifyin(g), Sanctifin’, & Slam Dunking: A Reader in African- American Expressive Culture (309-30). Massachusetts: University of Massachusetts Press.

Floyd, S. (1995a). The Power of Black Music: Interpreting Its History From Africa To The United States. New York: Oxford University Press.

Floyd, S. (1995b). The Roundtable on Integrative Inquiry. Lenox Avenue, 1(1), 5-61.

Ford, P. (2008). Jazz Exotica and the Naked City. Journal of Musicological Research, 27(2), 113 133.

Frey, H. (2006). Louis Malle and the 1950s: Ambiguities, Friendships and Legacies. South Central Review, 23(2), 22-35.

Fry, A. (2007). Jazz Consciousness: Music Race and Humanity by Paul Austerlitz (Review). Music and Letters, 88(2), 335-340.

Garcia, A.J. (2001). Dave Brubeck: His Music Keeps Us Here. Jazz Education Journal, 34(3), 38-41, 43-5.

Garland, P. (1969). The Sound of Soul. Chicago: H. Regenery Co..

Gates, H.L. (1988). The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literary Criticism. New York: Oxford University Press.

Gennari, J. (2006). Blowin’ Hot and Cool: Jazz and Its Critics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Giddins, G. (1998). Visions of Jazz. New York: Oxford University Press.

Gillespie, D. (1979). To Be, or Not… to Bop: Memoirs. With Al Fraser. New York: Doubleday.

Gioia, T. (1989). Jazz and the Primitivist Myth. The Musical Quarterly, 73(1), 130-143.

Gioia, T. (1992). West Coast Jazz: Modern Jazz in California 1945-1960. New York: Oxford University Press.

Givan, B. (2010). The Music of Django Reinhardt. Michigan: University of Michigan Press. 209

Gleason, R. (1951). Charlie Mingus: A Thinking Musician. Down Beat, 18(9), 7.

Gleason, R. (1954). Perspectives. Down Beat, 21(23), 15.

Gleason, R. (1956). Perspectives. Down Beat, 23(8), 18.

Gleason, R. (1957). Perspectives. Down Beat, 24(8), 58-9.

Goffin, R. (1944). Jazz From The Congo To The Metropolitan. New York: Doubleday.

Goffin, R. (1946). Jazz From Congo to Swing. London: Musicians Press Ltd..

Goldberg, J. (2002). Jazz: 50 Years (More or Less) of the Modern Jazz Quartet. Billboard, 114(23), 26-7.

Goldmark, D. (2005). Jungle Jive: Race, Jazz and Cartoons. Institute for Studies in American Music Newsletter, 34(2), 1-3.

Goss, L. & Barnes M. (1989). Talk That Talk: An Anthology of African-American Storytelling. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Gottlieb, W. (1947a). Rhumba Bands May Cut Hot Orks. Down Beat, 14(16), 10.

Gottlieb, W. (1947b). Thelonius Monk – Genius of Bop. Down Beat, 14(20), 2.

Gowers, P. (1962). Modern Jazz. The Musical Times, 103(1432), 389-392.

Guérif, F. (1981). Le Cinéma Policier Français. Paris: Veyrier.

Haines, H. (1984). Black Radicalization and the Funding of Civil Rights: 1957-1970. Social Problems, 32(1), 31-43.

Hall, G. (1968). Early Jazz-Its Roots and Musical Development (Review). Music Educators Journal, 55(2), 87-88.

Harris, M. (1992). The Rise of the Gospel Blues. New York: Oxford University Press.

Hartman, C. (1948, December 5). Bop: Skee, Re or Be, ‘It’s Still Got To Swing.’ New York Times, p. X13).

Heilbut, A. (1971). The Gospel Sound: Good News and Bad Times. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Henderson, S. (1973). Understanding the new Black poetry; Black speech and Black music as poetic reference. New York: Morrow.

Hentoff, N. (1953). Counterpoint. Down Beat, 20(26), 8.

210

Hentoff, N. (1954a). Caught in The Act: Modern Jazz Quartet: Birdland, New York. Down Beat, 21(20), 32.

Hentoff, N. (1954b). Counterpoint. Down Beat, 21(1), 6,27.

Hentoff, N. (1954c). Jazz Fills Role of Classical Composition Brubeck Learns. Down Beat, 21(11), 2.

Hentoff, N. (1955a). Modern Jazz Quartet Sparks Rewarding Town Hall Concert. Down Beat, 22(26), 14.

Hentoff, N. (1955b). Initial Modern Jazz Society Concert Marks Some Firsts. Down Beat, 22(26), 8.

Hentoff, N. (1957a). John Lewis. Down Beat, 24(4), 15-6.

Hentoff, N. (1957b). The Birth of the Cool. Down Beat, 24(9), 15-6.

Hentoff, N. (1958). European Windows: John Lewis. In European Windows (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. New York: RCA Victor.

Hersch, C. (1996). “Let Freedom Ring!”: Free Jazz and African-American Politics. Cultural Critique, 32(Winter), 97-123.

Hoefer, G. (1948). ‘Jax’ Bringing Jazz To Carleton College, Minn. Down Beat, 15(19), 11.

How Deaf Can You Get?. (1948, May 17). Time, p. 74.

Howland, J. (2007). “The Blues Get Glorified”: Harlem Entertainment, Negro Nuances and Black Symphonic Jazz. The Musical Quarterly, 90(3-4), 319-70.

Howland, J. (2009). Ellington Uptown: Duke Ellington, James P. Johnson, and the Birth of Concert Jazz. Michigan: University of Michigan Press.

Hutcheon, L. (2002). The Politics of Postmodernism. New York: Routledge.

Inside the Cannonball Adderley Quartet. (1961, June 8). Down Beat, p. 22.

Jazz Bitterly Opposed in Germany. (1928, March 11). New York Times, p. 10.

Jazz, Classical Music Society to Hold First Concert Oct. 19. (1956, October 3). Down Beat, p.11.

Jazz Composers Workshop. (1954, March 10). Down Beat, p. 21.

Jazz Course at NYU. (1950, October 20). Down Beat, p. 1.

Jazz Experiment. (1952, May 21). Down Beat, p. 8. 211

Jazz in Films. (1959, November 12). Down Beat, p. 16-7.

Jazz is Barred From Campus by U. of Kentucky Educators. (1951, April 6). Down Beat, p. 16.

Jazz Modern Quartet. (1958, May 13). New York Times, p. 25.

Jazz Society Spots MJQ in Concert. (1955, November 30). Down Beat, p. 52.

Jones, A. (2001). Yellow Music: Media Culture and Colonial Modernity in the Chinese Jazz Age. Durham: Duke University Press.

Jones, L. (1963). Jazz and the White Critic. Down Beat, 30(23), 16-17; 34.

Joyner, D. (2000). Analyzing Third Stream. Contemporary Music Review, 19(1), 63-87.

Keepnews, P. (2001, March 31). John Lewis, 80, Pianist, Composer and Creator of the Modern Jazz Quartet, Dies. New York Times, p. B9.

Kelley, R.D.G. (1997). Dig They Freedom: Meditations on History and the Black Avante Garde, Lenox Avenue: A Journal of Interarts Inquiry, 3(1), 13-27.

Kenton Lecture on Jazz. (1951, March 9). Down Beat, p. 7.

Kernfeld, B. (2002). Soul Jazz. In New Grove Dictionary of Jazz – Volume 3. New York: New Grove’s Dictionaries Inc.

Knauer, W. (1990). 'Simulated Improvisation' in Duke Ellington's Black Brown and Beige. The Black Perspective in Music, 18(1/2), 20-38.

Korrol, S. (1983). From Colonia to Community: The History of Puerto Ricans in New York City, 1917-1948. Connecticut: Greenwood Press.

Kerman, J. (1985). Contemplating Music: Challenges to Musicology. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Kramer, G. (1960). Golden Striker. In The Golden Striker (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. New York: Atlantic Recording Company.

Kramer, G. (1962). The Comedy/The Modern Jazz Quartet. In The Comedy (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. New York: Atlantic Recording Company.

Koch, L.O. (1985). The Jazz Composition/Arrangement. Annual Review of Jazz Studies, 3, 181-191.

Lalo, T. (1991). John Lewis. Paris: Éditions du Limon.

Laubenstein, P. F. (1929). Jazz – Debit and Credit. The Musical Quarterly, 15(4), 606-24.

212

Levin, M. (1947). Despite Bad Acoustics, Gillespie Concert Offers Some Excellent Music. Down Beat, 14(22), 1.

Lewis, J. (1960). Excerpts From The Comedy [Score]. New York: MJQ Music Inc..

Locke, A. (1925). The New Negro. In A. Locke (Ed.). (1968). The New Negro (3-16). New York: Atheneum.

Locke, A. [1936](1991). The Negro and His Music: Negro Art Past and Present. Salem: Ayer Company Publishers.

Lopes, P. (2002). The Rise of a Jazz Art World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Lopes, P. (2005). Signifying Deviance and Transgression: Jazz in the Popular Imagination. American Behavioral Scientist, 48(11), 1468-1481.

Lord, T. (2002). The Jazz Discography. New York: Lord Music Reference Inc..

Magee, J. (2007). Kinds of Blue: Miles Davis, Afro Modernism, and the Blues. Jazz Perspectives, 1(1), 5-27.

Mathieu, B. (1961). Review: John Lewis, "Original Sin." Down Beat, 28(21), 30.

Mead, A. (1994). An Introduction to the Music of Milton Babbitt. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Meadows, E. (2003). Bebop To Cool. Connecticut: Prager Publishers.

Mitchell-Kernan, C. (1972). Signfiying, Loud-Talking and Marking. In G.D. Caponi (Ed.). (1999). Signifyin(g), Sanctifin’, & Slam Dunking: A Reader in African-American Expressive Culture (309-30). Massachusetts: University of Massachusetts Press.

Mingus, C. (1976). Revelations [Score]. New York: Margun Music Inc..

MJQ to Storyville. (1955, February 23). Down Beat, p. 6.

Monson, I. (1995). The Problem with White Hipness: Race, Gender, and Cultural Conceptions in Jazz Historical Discourse. Journal of the American Musicological Society, 48(3), 396-422.

Monson, I. (1998). Oh Freedom: George Russell, John Coltrane, and Modal Jazz. B. Nettle & M. Russell (Eds.), In the Course of Performance: Studies in the World of Musical Improvisation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Moreno, J. (2004). Bauzá – Gillespie – Latin/Jazz: Difference, Modernity and the Black Caribbean. South Atlantic Quarterly, 103(1), 81-99.

213

Mulligan, G. (1995). I Hear America Singing. Retrieved January 5, 2005, from http://lcweb2.loc.gov/diglib/ihas/html/mulligan/gm-hom.html.

Murphy, J. (1990). Jazz Improvisation: The Joy of Influence. The Black Perspective in Music, 18(1/2), 7-19.

Myers, D.G. (1990). Signifying Nothing. New Criterion, 8(February), 61-4.

Naremore, J. (1998). More Than Night: Film Noir in its Contexts. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Nason, R.W. (1959, March 15). Evaluating the ‘Odds’: Harry Belafonte Tries Broad Racial Approach in Locally Made Feature. New York Times, p. X7

Ness, R. (2008). A Lotta Night Music: The Sound of Film Noir. Cinema Journal, 47(2): 52-73.

New Series Explores Jazz Developments. (1955, January 12). Down Beat, p. 16.

Norrell, R. (2009). Up From History: The Life of Booker T. Washington. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

NYU To Conduct Jazz Course. (1950, February 10). Down Beat, p. 1.

O’Connor, N.J. (1957). Jazz at Brandeis. Down Beat, 24(15), 18.

Omi, M & Winant, H. (1994). Racial Formation in the United States from the 1960s to the 1990s. New York: Routledge.

Owens, T. (1976). The Fugal Pieces of the Modern Jazz Quartet. Journal of Jazz Studies, iv, 22 33.

Panassié, H. (1936). Hot Jazz. New York: M. Witmark & Sons.

Panassié, H. (1942). The Real Jazz. New York: Smith & Durrell.

Pekar, H. (1964). Review: Modern Jazz Quartet, "The Sheriff." Down Beat, 31(9), 28.

Pfeil, F. (1993). Home Fires Burning: Family Noir In Blue Velvet and Terminator 2. In J. Copjec (Ed.), Shades of Noir. London: Verso. 227-61.

Polonsky, A. (1999). Screenplay to “Odds Against Tomorrow.” In M. Myrack (ed.), Odds Against Tomorrow: The Critical Edition. Northridge: California State University.

Porter, E. (2002). What Is This Thing Called Jazz?. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Priestley, B. (1982). Mingus: A Critical Biography. New York: Da Capo Press, Inc..

Priestly, B. (1988). Jazz on Record: A History. London: Elm Tree Books. 214

Radano, R. (2003). Lying up a Nation: Race and Black Music. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Ramsey, G. (1996). Cosmopolitan or Provincial? Ideology in Early Black Music Historiography, 1867-1940. Black Music Research Journal, 16(1), 11-42.

Ramsey, G. (2001). Who Hears Here? Black Music, Critical Bias, and the Musicological Skin Trade. The Musical Quarterly, 85(1), 1-52.

Ramsey, G. (2003). Race Music: Black Cultures From Bebop to Hip-Hop. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Record Review: Miles Davis. (1949a, April 22). Down Beat, p. 14.

Record Review: Miles Davis. (1949b, May 20). Down Beat, p. 14.

Record Review: Miles Davis. (1949c, October 21). Down Beat, p. 15.

Riddle, R. (1958). A Look Back at Lenox. Jazz, 1, 29-32.

Rojas, F. (2007). From Black Power to Black Studies. Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press.

Ronan, E. (1947). Concerts Keep Cats in Cakes! Musicians Turn to Halls to Tide Them Over Dance Biz Lull. Down Beat, 14(8), 1.

Rousseau, J. [1762] (1979). Emile or On Education. USA: Basic Books.

Sargeant, W. [1938](1975). Jazz Hot and Hybrid (3rd ed.). New York: Da Capo Press.

Sachs, E. (1959). John Lewis, Man and Musician. Down Beat, 26(3), 18.

Salamone, F. (2005). Jazz and Its Impact on European Classical Music. The Journal of Popular Culture, 38(4), 732-43.

Sargant, N. & Sargant, T. (1931). Negro-American Music: Or the Origin of Jazz IV (Concluded). The Musical Times, 72(1063), 847-8.

Saul, S. (2003). Freedom Is, Freedom Ain’t: Jazz and the Making of the Sixties. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.

Schmitz, H. & de Lerma, R. (1979). Baroque Music and Jazz. The Black Perspective in Music, 7(1), 75-80.

Schrader, P. (1972). Notes on Film Noir. Film Comment, 8(1), 155-91.

School Dance Contest Opens. (1953, February 11). Down Beat, p. 1.

215

Schuller, G. (1957). The Brass Ensemble of the Jazz and Classical Music Society. In Music for Brass (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. Columbia Records.

Schuller, G. (1958a). Liner Notes. In The Modern Jazz Quartet at Music Inn – Volume 2 (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. New York: Atlantic Recording Company.

Schuller, G. (1958b). Sonny Rollins and the Challenge of Thematic Improvisation. The Jazz Review, 1(1), 6-11, 21.

Schuller, G. (1963). American Performance and New Music. Perspectives of New Music, 1(2), 1- 8.

Schuller, G. (1964). A Conversation with Steuermann. Perspectives of New Music, 3(1), 22-35.

Schuller, G. (1965). Conversation with Varese. Perspectives of New Music, 3(2), 32-37.

Schuller, G. (1968). Early Jazz: Its Roots and Musical Development. New York: Oxford University Press.

Schuller, G. (1989). The Swing Era. New York: Oxford University Press.

Scultheiss, J. (1996). A Season of Fear; The Blacklisted Teleplays by Abraham Polonsky. Literatrue/Film Quarterly, (April), 148-64.

Scultheiss, J. (1999). Annotations to the Screenplay. In M. Myrack (Ed.), Odds Against Tomorrow: The Critical Edition. Northridge: California State University.

Silver, A. & Ward, E. (Eds.). (1993). Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference to the American Style. New York: Overlook.

Six Works of Jazz Commissioned by Brandeis University. (1957, April 7). Down Beat, p. 11.

Smitherman, G. (1977). Talkin and Testifyin: The Language of Black America. Michigan: Wayne State University Press.

Snead, J. (1981). On Repetition in Black Culture. Black American Literature Forum, 15(4),146 154.

Sorrento, J. (1682). A Voyage to Congo. In J. Pinkerton (Ed.) (1814). A General Collection of the Best and Most Interesting Voyages and Travels of all Parts of the World. London: Private Publisher. Digitized by Google Books.

Stearns Starts Club on Cornell Campus. (1947, March 26). Down Beat, p. 4.

Stuckey, S. (1987). Slave Culture: Nationalist Theory and the Foundations of Black America. New York: Oxford University Press.

216

Stuessy, C. (1977). The Confluence of Jazz and Classical Music From 1950 to 1970 (Doctoral dissertation, Eastman School of Music, 1977).

The School of Jazz. (1957, October 3). Down Beat, p. 23,48.

Thompson, R. (1932). The Contemporary Scene in American Music. The Musical Quarterly, 18(1), 9-17.

Thornhill Ork On 3-Week Vacation, Budget Cut For Glen Island Job. (1947, March 12). Down Beat, p. 1.

Tomlinson, G. (1991). Cultural Dialogics and Jazz: A White Historian Signifies. Black Music Research Journal, 11(2), 229-264.

Tonsor, J. (1892). Negro Music. Music, 3, 119-122.

Tristano Returns to Chi in Blue Note Two-Weeker. (1951, April 20). Down Beat, p. 6.

Tucker, M. (1993). The Duke Ellington Reader. New York: Oxford University Press.

Ulanov, B. [1946](1975). Duke Ellington. New York: Da Capo Press.

Ulanov, B. (1952). A History of Jazz in America. New York: The Viking Press.

Van de Leur, W. (2001). The American Impressionists and the Birth of the Cool. Tijdshrift voor Muziektheorie 6(1), 18-26.

Van de Leur, W. (2002). Something to Live For: The Music of Billy Strayhorn. New York: Oxford University Press.

Vernet, M. (1993). Film Noir: On the Edge of Doom. In J. Copjec (Ed.), Shades of Noir. London: Verso. 1-31.

Vicendeau, G. (2007). French Film Noir. In A. Spicer (Ed.), European Film Noir. Manchester: Manchester University Press. 23-54.

Vihlen, E. (2000). Jammin’ on the Champs-Elysées: Jazz, France and the 1950s. In R. Wagnleitner & E. Tyler May (Eds.), “Here, There and Everywhere”: The Foreign Politics of American Popular Culture. Hanover: University Press of New England.

Walker, P. (2010). Episode. Oxford Music Online. Retrieved December 15, 2010, from www.oxfordmusiconline.com.

Walser, R. (1993). Out of Notes: Signification, Interpretation, and the Problem of Mile Davis. The Musical Quarterly, 77(2), 343-65.

Wang, R. (1973). Jazz Circa 1945: A Confluence of Styles. The Musical Quarterly. 59(4), 531 546. 217

Webster, J. (2010). Development. Oxford Music Online. Retrieved December 15, 2010, from www.oxfordmusiconline.com.

Williams, M. (1959). Liner Notes. In The Shape of Jazz To Come (p. 1) [LP liner notes]. New York: Atlantic Recording Company.

Williams, M. (1970). The Jazz Tradition. New York: Oxford University Press.

Williams-Jones, P. (1975). Afro-American Gospel Music: A Crystallization of the Black Aesthetic. Ethnomusicology, 19(3), 373-385.

Wilson, J.S. (1956, September 16). Jazz Workshop to Grow Next Year. New York Times, p. X9.

Wilson, J.S. (1957a, June 2). Written Jazz. New York Times, p. 97.

Wilson, J.S. (1957b, September 16). Tenor Saxophone Stars At Concert. New York Times, p. 27.

Wilson, J.S. (1958a, April 6). Homecoming Jazzmen: Striped Pants of the Modern Quartet Astounded a British Enthusiast. New York Times, p. X9.

Wilson, J.S. (1958b, November 2). Serious or Jazz?. New York Times, p. X12.

Wilson, J.S. (1960, November 3). Extremes of Jazz Meet Nightly. New York Times, p. 47.

Wilson, J.S. (1963). Review: Modern Jazz Quartet, "The Comedy." Down Beat, 30(3), 28.

Winn, J. (1993). The Roundtable on Integrative Inquiry. Published (1995). Lenox Avenue, 1(1), 5-61.

Wintle, C. (1976). Milton Babbitt’s Semi-Simple Variations. Perspectives of New Music, 14(2), 111-154.

Yanow, S. (2004). Jazz on Film. San Francisco: Backbeat Books.

Yanow, S. (2005). Jazz a Regional Exploration. Westport: Greenwood Press.

Yudkin, J. (2006). The Lenox School of Jazz. South Egremont, Massachusetts: Farshaw Publishing.

Zenni, S. (2001). The Aesthetics of Duke Ellington's Suites: The Case of Tongo Brava. The Black Music Research Journal, 21(1), 1-28.

218

SCORES

Bauer, B. & Sher, C. (1991). New Real Book Volume Two. Petaluma: Sher Music Co..

Lewis, J. (1954). Concorde [Score]. New York: MJQ Music Inc..

Lewis, J. (1957). Three Little Feelings [Score]. New York: MJQ Music Inc..

Lewis, J. (1959). Sketch for Double Quartet [Score]. New York: MJQ Music Inc..

Lewis, J. (1960). Excerpts From The Comedy [Score]. New York: MJQ Music Inc..

Lewis, J. (1987). Three Windows [Score]. New York: MJQ Music Inc..

Mingus, C. (1976). Revelations [Score]. New York: Margun Music Inc..

219

FILMOGRAPHY

Ascensuer Pour L’Echafaud. 1957. Louis Malle (director). DVD. Paris: Nouvelles Editions de Films, 2002.

Cab Calloway’s Hi-De-Ho. 1934. Fred Waller (director). In The Best of Jazz and Blues (Hollywood Rhythm Volume 1). DVD. New York: Kino International, 2001.

I Want to Live!. 1958. Robert Wise (director). DVD. Los Angeles: MGM, 2002.

Odds Against Tomorrow. 1959. Robert Wise (director). DVD. Los Angeles: MGM, 2003.

Sait-on Jamais. 1957. Roger Vadim (director). DVD. Paris: René Chateau, 2005.

Touch of Evil. 1958. Orson Welles (director). DVD. New York: Universal Pictures, 2000.

220 Appendix (a) – “The Signifyin’ Monkey”

Goss, L. & Barnes M. (1989). Talk That Talk: An Anthology of African-American Storytelling. New York: Simon & Schuster. pp. 456-7.

Said the signifyin’ monkey to the lion one day: “Hey, dere’s a great big elephant down th’ way Goin’ ‘roun’ takin’, I’m sorry t’ say, About yo’ momma in a scandalous way!

“Yeah, he’s talkin’ ‘bout yo’ momma an’ yo’ grandma, too; And he don’ show too much respect fo’ you. Now, you weren’t there an’ I sho’ am glad ‘Cause what he said about yo’ momma made me mad!”

Signifyin’ Monkey, stay up in yo’ tree You are always lyin’ and signifyin’ But you better not monkey wit’ me.

The lion said, “Yea? Well, I’ll fix him; I’ll tear that elephant limb from limb.” Then he shook the jungle with a mighty roar Took off like a shot from a forty-four.

He found the elephant where the tall grass grows And said, “I come to punch you in your long nose.” The elephant looked at the lion in surprise And said, “Boy, you better go pick on somebody your size.”

But the lion wouldn’t listen; he made a pass; The elephant slapped him down in the grass. The lion roared and sprung from the ground And that’s when that elephant really went to town.

I mean he whupped that lion for the rest of the day And I still don’t see how the lion got away But he dragged on off, more dead than alive, And that’s when that monkey started his signifyin’ jive.

The monkey looked down and said, “Oooh wee! What is this beat-up mess I see? Is that you, Lion? Ha, ha! Do tell! Man, he whupped yo’ head to a fare-thee-well!

“Give you a beatin’ that was rough enough; You s’pposed to be the king of the jungle, ain’t dat some stuff? You big overgrown pussycat! Don’ choo roar Or I’ll hop down there an’ whip you some more.”

The monkey got to laughing and a’ jumpin’ up and down, But his foot missed the limb and he plunged to ground, The lion was on him with all four feet Gonna grind that monkey to hamburger meat.

The monkey looked up with tears in his eyes And said, “Please Mr. Lion, I apologize, I meant no harm, please, let me go And I’ll tell you something you really need to know.”

221 Appendix (a) – Continued

And that monkey scampered up the tree and got away. “What I wanted to tell you,” the monkey hollered then, “Is if you fool with me, I’ll sic the elephant on you again!”

The lion just shook his head, and said, “You jive… If you and yo’ monkey children wanna stay alive, Up in them trees is where you better stay.” And that’s where they are to this very day.

Signifyin’ Monkey, stay up in yo’ tree You are always lyin’ and signifyin’ But you better not monkey wit’ me.

222 Appendix (b) – Concorde (1955). Atlantic LP 7005. Exposition, mm. 1-25. Transcription

223 Appendix (b) – Continued

224 Appendix (b) – Continued

225 Appendix (c) – Formal Outlines of Selected Works

Table A – All The Things You Are. Recorded December 22, 1952: Prestige LP7059.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Interplay between bass ostinato + 7 X Bass ostinato and cymbal/drum cymbal/drum rolls. rolls. 7 “A” section of theme played by 14 X Cont. piano and vibraphone in unison at the octave twice with final 2 bars omitted. 21 “A” section of the theme played by 8 X Drums switch to keeping swung piano and vibraphone in unison at time. the octave. Theme evinces slight rhythmic alteration from lead sheet. 29 Second “A” section paraphrased in 8 Vibraphone Cont. the piano, vibraphone improvisation played on top. 37 Piano improvisation over the chord 8 Piano Cont. changes of the “B” section. 45 Piano and vibraphone play newly 12 X Cont. composed melody in unison over chord changes of the third “A” section (+ tag). 57 Composed unison break followed by 4 X/Vibraphone Ensemble plays in rhythmic improvised vibraphone lick which unison. leads into the next improvisatory section. 61 Vibraphone improvises over the 36- 36 Vibraphone Drums keep swung time. bar form of the piece. Piano comps chords and bass plays changes. 97 Piano improvises over a bridging 8 Piano Cont. section. 105 Bass improvises over the chord 12 Bass Cont. changes of the “B” section and the first four bars of the third “A” section. Piano and vibraphone motifs derived from the melody thus providing harmonic support. 117 Piano and vibraphone play melody 6 X Cont. from bar 49 with the final two bars omitted. 123 First four bars of first “A” section 9 X Bass ostinato and cymbal/drum played by the piano and vibraphone rolls. in unison at the octave. Bass ostinato and cymbal/drum rolls follow for four bars. Final bar is held on the tonic chord by the bass, vibes and piano.

In relation to the discussion on p. 116 note the use of an asymmetrical introduction and the widespread use of improvisation in this work.

226 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table B – Rose of the Rio Grande. Recorded December 22, 1952: Prestige LP7059.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Introductory call and response 4 X Unison – drums begin playing between vibes, piano and bass. with the ensemble on the piano entrance. 5 Theme comprised of overlapping 8 X Drums (brushes) accent piano parts (vibraphone and piano) played part. for 8 bars. 13 Theme repeated. 8 X Cont. In bar 18 drums proceed to play swung time and bass walks. 21 Vibraphone improvisation. Bar 21 32 Vibraphone Drums keep swung time. contains quote of introductory call figure.Piano comps chords and short contrapuntal lines. Bass walks changes. 53 Piano improvisation. 32 Piano Cont. 85 Theme comprised of overlapping 8 X Drums (brushes) accent piano parts (vibraphone and piano) played part. for 8 bars. 93 Theme repeated. 8 X Cont. In bar 98 drums proceed to play swung time and bass walks.

In relation to the discussion on p. 116 note the contrapuntal interplay in the thematic statements as well as the widespread use of improvisation in this work.

227 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table C – La Ronde. Recorded December 22, 1952: Prestige LP7059.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Composed introduction in which 8 Drums Improvised drum fills. ensemble hits alternate with drum fills. 9 Theme played in unison at the octave 16 X Drums keep swung time. by piano and vibraphone. 25 Theme repeated in unison at the 16 X Cont. octave by piano and vibraphone. Second half of the theme is modified melodically but continues to be played in unison. 41 Composed bridging section. 8 X Drums keep swung time. 49 Ensemble hits derived from the final 16 Drums Improvised drum fills. 8 bars of the theme alternate with drum fills. 65 Vibraphone improvisation over two 24 Vibraphone Drums keep swung time. 12 bar blues forms. Piano comps chords and bass walks changes. 89 Piano improvisation over one 12 bar 12 Piano Cont. blues form. Bass walks changes. 101 Composed bridging section. Piano 20 X/Drums Cont. Improvised drum fills bars plays in between ensemble breaks 117-120. during bars 114-115. Drum fills alternate with ascending piano line bars 117-120. 121 Theme played in unison at the octave 13 X/Drums Drums keep swung time. by piano and vibraphone. Final two bars of form played as drum solo. 134 Improvised drum solo for 16 bars. 17 Drums Improvised drum solo. Piano/vibes/bass play final chord in bar 150.

In relation to the discussion on p. 117 note the intricacy of composed material that brackets the embedded 12- bar blues choruses.

228 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table D – Vendome. Recorded December 22, 1952: Prestige LP7059.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Fugal subject played 3 + X Drums (brushes) play by vibraphone in C anacrusis swung time. minor.

4 Fugal answer played 3 X Cont. by piano in G minor. Vibraphone plays half-note length harmonic support.

7 Fugal subject returns 3 X Cont. Exposition 1 an octave higher in the vibraphone in C minor. Piano plays half-notes in harmonic support and 2 bars of independent counterpoint.

10 Fugal answer played 3 X Cont. by bass in G minor while vibraphone and piano continue in independent counterpoint.

13 Vibraphone 16 Vibraphone Cont. improvisation. Piano comps chords and occasionally independent Episode 1 contrapuntal lines. Over final bars ensemble modulates to F minor.

29 Fugal subject played 7 X Cont. by piano in F minor. Vibraphone plays answer while piano Exposition 2 continues underneath in independent counterpoint.

38 Piano improvisation. 11 Piano Cont. Vibraphone plays whole-note length harmonic support. Episode 2 Over final bars ensemble modulates to D major.

229 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table D (continued)

49 Fugal subject played 4 X Cont. by vibraphone in D major. 53 Composed bridging 13 X Cont. Exposition 3 passage involving vibes/piano and bass interplay. 66 Fugal subject played 5 X Cont. by piano in E minor.

71 Vibraphone 37 Vibraphone Drums keep swung improvisation. time (clearer accents Modulation from E on beats 2 and 4). minor to G major. Piano comps chords and occasionally Episode 3 independent contrapuntal lines. Over final bars modulation back to C minor.

108 Overlapping 6.5 bars28 X Cont. statements of the fugal subject between Exposition 4 the vibraphone and the piano played in C minor.

114.5 Composed coda for 7 X Cont. all instruments ending Coda on Picardy Third.

In relation to the discussion on p. 117, note how pre-planned expositions alternate with improvised episodes in this work. In relation to the discussion on p. 138 note how modulations that occur in the episodes enable expositions in a variety of tonalities.

28 There appears to be a two beat error (omission) in the performance around bar 113. 230 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table E – Three Windows. Recorded February 20-21, 1958: RCA Victor LP1742.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Drums play swung pattern 5 X Swung time on on finger cymbals. finger cymbals.

6 Fugal exposition. Violins 12 X Cont. state fugal subject, violas and violins state fugal answer while other violins play countersubject, low strings state subject once again while high strings play counterpoint. Exposition continues with a statement Exposition 1 of the subject made by the flute while strings play in counterpoint behind followed by two more statements of the subject by the string sections of the orchestra.

18 Exposition continues with a 12 X Cont. statement of the subject by the flute accompanied by string counterpoint and two more statements of the subject by the string sections of the orchestra.

30 Improvised flute solo with 24 Flute Cont. with the melodic string incorporation of countermelodies as backings other cymbals. over AAB chord Episode 1 progression (8 measures per section).

54 Improvised flute solo with 8 Flute Swung time on pizzicato string backings finger cymbals. over another A section.

62 Flute improvisation plays 4 Flute Cont. subject motifs while bass plays countersubject.

66 Violins play fugal subject. 4 Flute Cont. Flute continues to Exposition 2 improvise.

70 Two statements of the fugal 8 X Cont. subject. Flute joins the ensemble.

231 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table E (continued)

78 Flute introduces new 8 X Cont. composed melody. Strings echo in call-response.

86 Melodic turns in the flute 4 X Cont. and pizz. hits from measures 81-82 are repeated.

90 Another new theme is 8 X Cont. played by the saxophone over the first four measures and echoed in the strings Episode 2 over the second four measures.

98 Strings continue to play 6 X Cont. melodic material derived from saxophone theme.

104 Ensemble breaks with fills 10 X Cont. by the flute and saxophone derived from the fugal subject.

114 Fugal subject stated in the 8 X Cont. saxophone. Answer and countersubject performed by strings. Exposition 3 122 Exposition continues with 8 X Cont. two more statements of the subject by the string sections of the orchestra.

130 Improvised saxophone solo 32 Saxophone Cont. with melodic string countermelodies as backings Episode 3 over AABA chord progression.

162 Saxophone continues to 4 Saxophone Cont. improvise while bass plays countersubject.

166 Violins play fugal subject. 4 Saxophone Cont. Saxophone continues to Exposition 4 improvise

170 Two more statements of the 8 X Cont. subject occur in the strings alone.

232 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table E (continued)

178 First two measures of the 9 X Cont. fugal subject are repeated in harmonic sequence by the Coda strings. Final measure of the work sustains on a Picardy third.

In relation to the discussion on p. 129, note the use of improvised subject motifs in the flute solo beginning in bar 62 and the improvised counterpoint juxtaposed against the fugal subject beginning in bar 66.

233 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table F – The Queen’s Fancy. Recorded June 25, 1953: Prestige LP7057.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Opening fanfare. 5 X Drums roll on snare. Straight- time. 6 Theme stated in the vibraphone. 8 X Syncopated drum/piano/bass hits for first 4 bars, then on the beat hits for the remaining 4 bars. Straight-time. 14 Theme is played in the piano and 8 X Drum rolls on snare; Bass plays offset in the vibraphone. contrapuntal line for first 5 bars, then doubles the vibraphone in bar 19 and plays straight quarter notes bars 20-21. Straight-time. 22 Bass plays secondary theme and is 8 X Drums keep swung time. accompanied by unison melodic interjections performed by the vibraphone and piano. 30 Repeat of opening fanfare with final 4 X Drums roll on snare. Straight- bar omitted. time. 34 Vibraphone improvisation over 32 Vibraphone Drums keep swung time and AABA form. bass walks changes. Piano comps chords. 66 Repeat of opening fanfare with final 4 X Drum rolls on toms. Straight- bar omitted. time. 70 Bridging passage in which the 12 X Drums keep swung time and secondary theme is truncated into a bass walks changes. motif played 4 times by the vibraphone and passed through a series of ii-V-I changes (beginning in F and ending in Db). 82 Piano improvisation over AABA 32 Piano Drums keep swung time and form. bass walks changes. Vibraphone comps a few melodic lines behind the improvisation. 114 Repeat of the 8 bar section beginning 8 X Drums keep swung time. in bar 22. 122 Repeat of opening fanfare with final 4 X Drums roll on snare. Straight- bar omitted. time.

In relation to the discussion on p. 143, note how straight-time and pre-planned contrapuntal passages bracket improvisatory passages in this work.

234 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table G – Fontessa. Recorded January 22, 1956: Atlantic LP1231.

M. Time Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 0:00 Fontessa theme played by 21 X Straight-time. No vibraphone and piano in straight- percussion time counterpoint. Bass supports accompaniment until harmony with long sustained notes. cymbal rolls with sticks in measures 15-19. 22 1:04 Secondary theme played by the 8 X Drums keep swung vibraphone and supported by time. chordal vamp in the piano. Bass supports using vamp rhythm. 30 1:23 Secondary theme repeated an 8 X/Piano Cont. octave higher in the vibraphone. Piano improvises contrapuntal lines with some blues sonorities behind vibraphone in the right hand while outlining vamp with the left. Bass supports using vamp rhythm. 38 1:42 Vibraphone and piano introduce a 8 X Cont. third theme in unison. Bass continues to support using vamp rhythm from bar 22. 46 2:01 Secondary theme is played in 8 X Cont. unison by the vibraphone and piano for 1 bar before being staggered between the two instruments. Bass continues to support using vamp rhythm from bar 22. The final two bars of this section consist solely of the drums keeping time. 54 2:20 Vibraphone solos over the 32-bar 32 Vibraphone/Piano Cont. AABA form established between measures 22 and 53. Piano comps chords and bass alternates between playing vamp rhythm and walking. Piano plays independent contrapuntal line behind the vibraphone over the final “A” section. 86 3:36 Bass plays secondary theme riff. 4 X/Vibraphone Cymbal rolls. Vibraphone improvises. 90 3:44 Secondary theme repeated an 8 X/Piano Drums keep swung octave higher in the vibraphone. time. Piano improvises contrapuntal lines behind vibraphone in the right hand while outlining vamp with the left. Bass supports using vamp rhythm. 98 4:04 Vibraphone and piano play third 8 X Cont. theme in unison. Bass continues to support using vamp rhythm from bar 22.

235 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table G (continued)

106 4:24 Vibraphone plays secondary theme. 7.529 X Cont. Piano extracts rhythmic motif from secondary theme and plays a contrapuntal line. Bass continues to support using vamp rhythm. 114 4:39 Piano improvisation largely Unclear Piano/X Straight-time. Some unaccompanied. Bass and vibes drum hits, but minimal provide some chordal support in accompaniment. bars 121-125. Last two bars of solo repeat later in the work and appear to be pre-planned. 5:06 Piano improvises over new chord 6 Piano Drums keep swung progression while bass and vibes time. provide harmonic support. 5:24 Piano plays material from bars 124- 2 X Swung time. No 125 percussion accompaniment. 5:30 Piano continues to improvise over 8 Piano Drums keep swung chord progression 5:06 which time. extends into the “filled” measures in this iteration. 5:54 Unaccompanied piano solo. Unclear Piano Straight-time. No percussion accompaniment. 6:21 Piano improvises over chord 16 Piano Drums keep swung progression from 5:30 twice while time. bass and vibes provide harmonic support. 7:00 Piano improvises over new 8-bar 8 Piano Cont. chord progression while bass and vibes provide harmonic support. 7:21 Ensemble return to material and 8 Piano Cont. setting from 6:21. 7:42 Unacommpanied piano fill derived Unclear Piano Swung time. No from the final measure of percussion improvised material in the previous accompaniment. section. 7:46 Vibraphone and piano play new call 8 X Drums keep swung cut- and response riffs in cut-time. time. 7:57 Repeat of previous 8 measures. 8 X Cont. 8:07 Unaccompanied piano solo. Unclear Piano Swung time. Percussion Vibraphone, drums and bass play accompaniment accents onbeat-offbeat hits between 8:15 onbeats during “hits” and 8:20. Solo ends with piano passage only. material from mm. 124-125. 8:27 Improvised bass solo with Unclear Bass Swung time. Percussion dissonant chord arpeggiation played accompanied limited to by the vibraphone and piano. the interjection of Drum fills on cymbals punctuate cymbal rolls during the the solo. solo.

29 As the half measure of this section appears to be the result of an editing splice with the next section of the work, this schematic treats measures 106-112.5 as a full 8-measure block. 236 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table G (continued)

9:11 Improvised drum solo with Unclear Drums Improvised drum solo. dissonant chord arpeggiation played by vibraphone, piano and bass added at 9:40. 10:09 Fontessa theme played again by 22 X Straight-time. No vibraphone and piano in straight- percussion time counterpoint. Bass supports accompaniment until harmony with long sustained notes. cymbal rolls with sticks from 10:45-11:00.

In relation to the discussion on p. 144 note the use of blues sonorities in the contrapuntal line played by the piano beginning in bar 30.

237 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table H – Three Little Feelings Third Movement. Recorded October 20, 1956: Columbia LP941.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Horn plays new theme over tympani 5 X Swung time. rolls and sustained tuba pedal. 6 Riff from movement 1 stated in the 8 X Cont. trumpets. The remaining brass ensemble plays one-bar chords for mm. 6-7,9-11,13 and two-beat chords in mm. 8,12. Drums play scored pattern. 14 Movement theme stated in call- 8 X Cont. response between horn section and trombone section. 22 Four measure modulatory passage 4 X Cont. moving from C minor to Eb major. Trumpet chords in rhythmic unison above bass and tuba lines realize the transition. 26 Trombone improvisation over 8-bar 8 Trombone Cont. Eb major chord progression. Horns sustain two-bar backings. Bass is scored steady half-note harmonic support. 34 Trombone solos over 8-measure 32 Trombone Cont. chord progression from measure 36 four times. Bass switches to quarter note accompaniment. During the final four bars, the harmonies of the chord progression change to enable a modulation back to C minor. During the final eight bars, the horns, trombones and baritones sustain two-bar backings. 52 Fragments of thematic material 8 X Cont. occur in a unison horn part and in the trumpet 1 and 2 parts that follow. Passage builds to a fortissimo before giving away to a tympani solo. 60 Theme stated in call and response 10 X Cont. between trumpets/trombones and horns/baritones. Passage set over tympani ostinato. 70 Theme stated in its entirety by 10 X Cont. fortissimo trumpets. Horns, trombones, baritones and tuba provide chordal support. Trombone 3 and tuba play last two notes of the theme. Tympani ostinato continues/incorporates rolls.

238 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table H (continued)

80 Unison horns state theme 5 X Swung time. No percussion unaccompanied until final measure accompaniment. when bass, tuba, baritones and trombones are added. Final sonority is an open 5th on C and G.

In relation to the discussion on p. 156, note the use of thematic repetition in this movement.

239 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table I – The Comedy “La Cantatrice” Movement. Recorded October 20, 1960 (Released 1962): Atlantic LP1390.

Time Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 0:00 Vibraphone improvises on five-note Unclear Vibraphone Interpretation is swung motif in call-response format with but there is no drum the bass. Bass bows pedal at 0:24 accompaniment. while vibraphone plays the motif slowly.

0:36 First thematic statement layered 32 X Drums play swung throughout the ensemble. time. Vibraphone begins the melody at 0:40 followed by the bass at 0:44and the piano and voice (scat syllables) at 0:47. 1:29 Second thematic statement occurs in 17 X Cont. the voice (lyrics). Vibraphone plays accompanying ostinato. Bass and piano are absent. 1:59 Secondary melody stated in unison 14 X Cont. between the piano, voice and bass then leads into second half of the theme doubled by the same instrumentation. Vibraphone continues to play accompanying ostinato. 2:21 Secondary melody played in unison 5 X Drums roll on cymbals. by the vibraphone and piano. 2:27 Third thematic statement occurs in 8 X Drums play swung the voice (lyrics). Piano plays time. rhythmic ostinato over shifting chords. Bass walks chord changes. 2:45 Fourth thematic statement occurs in 17 X/Piano Cont. the voice (lyrics). Piano accompaniment plays independent contrapuntal lines. Bass walks chord changes. 3:24 Fifth thematic statement occurs in 17 X/Vibraphone Cont. the voice (lyrics). Piano comps chords. Vibraphone improvises independent contrapuntal lines. 4:02 Secondary thematic material is 12 X Cont. doubled between the piano and the bass. Vibraphone plays ostinato figure in the background. 4:27 Sixth thematic statement begins in 17 X Cont. unison between the voice (scat syllables), vibraphone and piano. Final 9 measures of the theme are sung by the vocalist solo with harmonic accompaniment by piano and bass.

240 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table I (continued)

5:14 Vibraphone plays secondary melodic 5 X Cont./Drums roll on material over dissonant chords cymbals over final before final cadence and sustain by chords. the ensemble.

In relation to the discussion on p. 158, note the alteration of polyphonic backings paired with thematic statements and unison scoring of thematic statements beginning at 2:26.

241 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table J – The Comedy “Polchinella” Movement. Recorded February 12, 1960: Atlantic LP1334.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Cascading two-note motif begins in 2 X Straight-time. trumpets and layers in horns, trombone and tuba. Drums roll on ride cymbal. 3 First thematic statement doubled 7 X Drums play syncopated between the bass and the piano. pattern while rest of the Drum pattern is provided. ensemble interprets in straight-time. 10 Transitional passage. Trombone 4 X Cont. plays motif derived from theme. Trumpets 1 and 2 echo the motif with singular half-notes. 14 Second thematic statement made by 4 X Cont. horns 1 and 2. Alternating ascending and descending M7 leaps stated in call-response between the trombones and the trumpets. 18 Transitional passage of M7 leaps 7 X Drum pattern switches made by the trombones and the to straight eighth notes trumpets culminate in cascading accented on beats two two-note motif from measure 1. and four, then cymbal rolls over opening motif. 25 Piano and bass play alternating 18 X Cont./Drums play ascending and descending M7 swung cut-time. intervals between C and Db in unison before switching to a cut- time passage in which the piano plays a melody that highlights semitone movement. 43 Series of stop-time hits played in 8 X Cont. rhythmic unison by the piano and bass. 51 Horns and trombones play two note 14 X Cont. riff based on C and Db while bass and drums play material from measure 29. 65 Two-note cascading motif from 4 X Straight-time. Cymbal measure 1 played in the same setting roll. but twice as fast. 69 Transitional passage in which the 6 X Drums play swung cut- trombones sustain C major chords time. and the trumpets provide rhythmic hits on Db major and B major triads. 75 Piano improvisation over 12-bar 24 Piano Cont. blues form. Bass plays changes. Trumpets and horns play dissonant chords against blues form. 99 Solo piano improvisation over cut- 29 Piano Cont. time drums. Elements of the cascading motif are scored across the brass at measures 105 and 114.

242 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table J (continued)

128 Two call and response instances 9 X Straight-time, return to utilizing C and Db again occur initial tempo. between the trombones and the trumpets before a repeat of the second thematic statement setting from measure 14 which in turn transitions to a two-note cascade played across the brass during the final two-bars.

In relation to the discussion on p. 160, note the length of the piano improvisation beginning in bar 75.

243 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table K – The Comedy “Pulchinella” Movement. Recorded August 29, 1961 (Released 1962): Atlantic LP1390.

Time Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 0:00 Cascading two-note motif played by 2 X Straight-time. bass and vibraphone descends through ensemble. Drums play cymbals in rhythmic unison until :11 at which point they roll on the cymbal. 0:20 First thematic statement doubled 7 X Drums keep swung between the bass and the piano. time. 0:41 Transitional passage. Vibraphone 4 X Cont. play trombone melody from published score. Piano and bass play trumpet part from published score. 0:53 Second thematic statement made by 4 X Cont. the piano. Vibraphone play alternating ascending and descending M7 leaps. Bass is absent. 1:04 Transitional passage of M7 leaps 7 X Cont. made by the piano and vibraphone in call and response culminating in the opening two-note motif cascade. 1:25 Piano and bass play alternating 44 X Cont. ascending and descending M7 intervals between C and Db in unison before the quartet again plays the opening cascading motif. 1:31 Vibraphone plays a secondary theme 35 X Drums play swung and the bass switches to m2 C-Db double time. accompaniment. After a series of stop-time hits beginning at 1:41, the vibes play a melody consisting of m2 intervals between C and Db. 2:01 Cascading two-note motif played by 4 Straight-time. bass and vibraphone descends through ensemble. Drums alternate rhythmic unison and cymbal rolls. 2:15 Transitional passage in which the 6 X Drums play swung piano plays two sets of two chord double time. hits. 2:18 Vibraphone improvisation over 12- 84 Vibraphone Cont. bar blues form. Piano comps chords and bass plays changes. Piano’s comping becomes more riff driven in final two choruses. 3:20 Piano plays descending melodic line 18 Piano Cont. before playing dissonant clusters in rhythmic unison with vibraphone trills. Bass is absent. 3:34 Solo piano improvisation over cut- 16 Piano Cont. time drums. Last two bars include descending M7 intervals played between the vibraphone and the piano.

244 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table K (continued)

3:43 Repeat of scoring of second 7 X Straight-time, return to thematic statement from :53 which initial tempo. transitions immediately to two-note cascade played over final two bars.

In relation to the discussion on p. 160, note the similarity of thematic treatment in this work with the brass version detailed in table (k).

245 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table L – Sketch. Recorded September 23, 1959: Atlantic LP1345.

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Introductory bass line 8 X Ride pattern is scored accompanied by ride and syncopated but cymbal. not swung.

9 First thematic statement 8 X Straight-time. No occurs in unison at the level percussion of the string quartet. accompaniment.

17 Transitional passage played 4 X Cont. by the string quartet. Two chords per bar with trills on the second chord of bar 17 and the first chords of bars 19 and 20.

21 Second thematic statement 8 X Percussion pattern is occurs in the vibraphone. scored /interpretation Bass provides scored of the passage is contrapuntal line. Strings are swung. suspended above the statement.

29 Piano improvisation over 8- 6 Piano Passage scored in A bar “A” form with first two double-time /drums measures omitted. Bass part play swung time. is scored.

35 Piano improvisation over 8 Piano Cont. A second 8-bar “A” form. Bass part is given rhythmic notation but directed to ad lib.

43 Piano improvisation over 8- 8 Piano Cont. B bar “B” form. Bass walks changes.

51 Piano improvisation over 8- 8 Piano Cont. A bar “A” form. Rhythmic notation indicates hits in the bass part in bars 51,53,55 and 57.

59 Piano improvisation over 32 Piano Cont. 32-bar AABA form. Rhythmic notation indicates hits in the bass part in bars 59,63,67 and 71. Rhythmic notation indicates half-note use in the bass in bars 83-90.

246 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table L (continued)

91 Piano improvisation over 8- 8 Piano Cont. A bar “A” form. Rhythmic notation indicates half-note use in the bass.

99 Piano improvisation over 8- 8 Piano Cont. A bar “A” form. Scored half- notes in the bass. String quartet plays octave unison pizz. Hits behind improvisation. Vibraphone begins scored independent backing line in bar 103.

107 Piano improvisation over 8- 8 Piano Cont. B bar “B” form. String quartet plays quarter note staccato chords supporting the chord changes. pizz. Vibraphone and bass play scored independent backing line in rhythmic unison.

114 String quartet plays 8 X Straight-time. No C transitional passage from bar percussion 17 ending on the dominant. accompaniment. Trills are used across the string quartet in bars 115,118,110.

122 Scored motif from the 8 X/Vibraphone Percussion pattern is A work’s theme is played in scored /interpretation the vibraphone part. Bass of the passage is part and drum pattern are swung also scored. String quartet trills on chords under melody. Passage ends with two-bar improvisatory break for the vibraphone.

130 Vibraphone improvisation 8 Vibraphone Passage scored in A over 8-bar “A” form. Piano double-time /drums comps chords while bass play swung time. walks and drums keep time.

138 Vibraphone improvisation 8 Vibraphone Cont. B over 8-bar “B” form. Piano comps chords while bass walks and drums keep time.

247 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table L (continued)

146 Vibraphone improvisation 8 Vibraphone Cont. A over 8-bar “A” form. Piano comps chords while bass walks and drums keep time.

154 Vibraphone improvisation 32 (8 bars of Vibraphone Cont. over 32-bar AABA form. which are Piano comps chords while scored as bass walks and drums keep repeats) time.

178 Vibraphone improvises over 8 Vibraphone Percussion pattern is 8-bar “A” form. String scored /interpretation quartet supports on chords of the passage is played underneath. Drum swung. pattern is scored. Piano plays scored independent melodic line. Bass walks changes.

186 Passage modulates to Bb 8 Vibraphone Cont. minor. Vibraphone improvises over 8-bar “A” form. String quartet supports on chords played underneath. Drum pattern is scored. Piano plays scored independent melodic line. Bass walks changes.

194 Passage modulates to B 8 Vibraphone Cont. minor. Vibraphone improvises over 8-bar “A” form. String quartet supports on chords played underneath. Drum pattern is scored. Piano plays scored independent melodic line. Bass walks changes.

202 Vibraphone improvises over 8 Vibraphone Cont. modified “B” section in G major. Bass part is scored in quarter notes. Violin I and Viola play one countermelody while Violin II plays a different countermelody.

248 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table L (continued)

210 Unison passage in string 15 X Straight-time. quartet. Bass and drum parts Percussion pattern is accompany and are scored. scored. Last four measures return to initial tempo marking.

225 Third thematic statement 6 X Straight-time. No occurs in unison at the level percussion of the string quartet. accompaniment. Melodic material is reinterpreted as quarter note triplets.

231 Fourth thematic statement 10 X Percussion pattern is occurs in the vibraphone scored /interpretation part. Piano states thematic of the passage is material two beats later and swung. bass plays contrapuntal line from measure 21. Triangle pattern scored for the percussion part and string quartet sustains on octave tonics.

In relation to the discussion on p. 161 note the alternating homophonic/polyphonic treatment of thematic material that takes place across this work.

249 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table M – The Comedy “Columbine” Movement. Recorded January 22, 1962: Atlantic LP1390.

Time Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 0:00 First thematic statement occurs in 8 X Straight-time. Two the vibraphone in the key of Db cymbal hits in measures major and is set against arpeggiated 7 and 8. chords played by the piano. Bass provides harmonic support at measure 4 (0:14). 0:22 Second thematic statement occurs in 8 X Straight-time. Drums the vibes in the key of Gb major. roll on cymbals. Piano continues to arpeggiate chords and bass continues to bow support. 0:40 Piano and vibraphone trade motifs Unclear Unclear Straight-time. No derived from the theme in call and percussion response. Passage seems pre-planned accompaniment. but may contain improvisatory elements. 0:52 Third thematic statement occurs in 8 X Drums play swung the piano in the key of Bb major. time. Vibraphone plays sustained lines affirming Bb tonality. Bass provides additional harmonic support (syncopated rhythm). 1:10 Unaccompanied piano solo in Bb Unclear Piano Drums roll on cymbals major. Final measures of the solo over final measures. accompanied by trills played across the ensemble. 1:28 Fourth statement of the theme 8 X Drums play swung occurs in the piano in the key of Bb time. major. Vibraphone plays independent contrapuntal line. 1:53 Piano improvises theme derived solo 24 Piano Cont. in Db major. Solo is provided harmonic support by walking bass. Elements of the theme used to articulate change to Gb at 2:36 3:23 Repeat of initial thematic setting in 8 X Straight-time. Two Db major. cymbal hits last two measures. 3:40 Piano makes final thematic statement 4 X Straight-time. Drums in Gb major. Vibraphone arpeggiates roll on cymbals. chordal accompaniment and bass bows support.

In relation to the discussion that takes place on p. 163 note the different tonal settings of thematic material as well as the integration of thatmeic material into the piano improvisation at 1:53.

250 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table N – The Comedy “Piazza Navona” Movement. Recorded January 24, 1962: Atlantic LP1390.

Time Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 0:00 Opening theme stated in the piano. 12 X/Vibraphone Drums play swung time Vibraphone improvises response beginning at 0:04. fills. Bass plays two-beat feel in compound time. Kay incorporates finger cymbals into drum pattern. 0:25 Repeat of opening material with 12 X/Vibraphone Cont. some harmonic changes at measure 16 but no alterations of the theme. 0:48 Transitional passage in simple time 9 X/Drums Drums play in rhythmic 4/4 comprised of sustained chords unison and fill on beat on the down beats of each bar that four of each measure. then break to punctuate the offbeat of beat three in each bar. 1:00 Piano improvises over IV-I plagal 16 Piano Drums play swung gesture in F major and IV-I plagal time. gesture in Ab major. Vibraphone plays backing line from 0:48. Bass walk changes. 1:16 Slower bridging passage with the 8 X Drums play cymbal piano and vibraphone playing unison rolls. half-note value chords. 1:26 Vibraphone improvises over IV-I 16 Vibraphone/Piano Drums play swung plagal gesture in Ab major, piano time. improvises over IV-I plagal gesture in Bb major, vibraphone returns to improvise over F major passage. Vibraphone and piano alternate playing backing lines. Bass walks changes. 1:43 Third thematic statement truncated 4 X Cont. to the opening four bars of the theme and layered, beginning with the vibraphone, then introducing the piano and finally the bass. 1:50 Piano improvises over 16-bar chord 16 Piano Cont. progression in Eb. Vibraphone plays sustained note backings. Bass walks changes. 2:06 Bass improvises over two identical 32 Bass Cont. 16-bar chord progressions in Eb. Piano and vibraphone play backings derived from the first two measures of the theme. 2:37 Vibraphone improvises over the 32 Vibraphone Cont. same 16-bar chord progression twice, accompanied solely by the drums.

251 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table N (continued)

3:09 The first eight measures of the theme 8 X/Vibraphone Drums play swung time are played by the piano while the beginning at 3:14. vibraphone improvises response fills. Bass plays two-beat feel in compound time. Kay incorporates finger cymbals into drum pattern. 3:29 Slower bridging passage with the 4 X Drums play cymbal piano and vibraphone playing unison rolls. half-note value chords from the first four measures beginning at 1:16. 3:34 Truncated thematic statement from 4 X Drums play swung 1:43 repeated in same arrangement. time. 3:41 Slower bridging passage with the 4 X Drums play cymbal piano and vibraphone playing unison rolls. half-note value chords from the first three measures beginning at 1:16 is again played before two final chords.

In relation to the discussion on p. 169 note the integration of different settings of thematic material in the final thematic statement beginning at 3:09.

252 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table O – La Ronde Suite. Recorded January 9, 1955: Prestige LP7057.

Part I ( = 312 aprox.)30 q

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Composed introduction where 8 X Ensemble plays in rhythmic ensemble hits alternate with piano unison. fills. 9 Theme played by the vibraphone 16 X/Piano Drums keep swung time. while piano improvisation occurs simultaneously. Bass walks changes. 25 Theme repeated in the vibraphone 16 X/Piano Cont. while piano improvisation continues. Bass walks changes. 41 Composed bridging section in which 8 X/Piano Bass, drums and vibraphone play the bass and vibraphone play the in rhythmic unison. melody while the piano improvises fills. 49 Ensemble hits derived from the final 16 X/Piano Ensemble plays hits in rhythmic 8 bars of the theme alternate with unison. piano fills. 65 Piano improvisation occurs over two 24 Piano Drums keep swung time. 12-bar blues forms. The vibraphone adds independent backing lines over the second chorus. Bass walks changes. 89 Composed bridging section; piano 8 X/Piano Bass, drums and vibraphone play plays in between ensemble breaks in in rhythmic unison. each bar. 97 Theme played by the vibraphone 16 X/Piano Drums keep swung time. while piano improvisation occurs simultaneously. 113 Piano improvises unaccompanied 20 Piano Interpretation is swung but there coda. is no percussion accompaniment.

Part II ( = 169 aprox.) q

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Composed introduction where 8 X Ensemble plays in rhythmic ensemble hits alternate with bass unison. fills. 9 Theme played by the piano and 16 X/Bass Drums keep swung time. vibraphone while bass improvisation occurs simultaneously. 25 Theme played by the piano and 16 X/Bass Cont. vibraphone while bass improvisation occurs simultaneously. 41 Composed bridging section in which 8 X/Bass Cont. the vibraphone and piano play the melody while the bass improvises fills.

30 Tempo is not given in cut-time to facilitate comparison of form between the movements. 253 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table O (continued)

49 Ensemble hits derived from the final 16 X/Bass Cont. 8 bars of the theme alternate with bass fills. 65 Bass improvises over two 12-bar 24 Bass Cont. blues forms while the vibraphone and piano play backing figures over both choruses. 89 Composed bridging section; bass 8 X/Bass Drums hit on beat 1 of bars 89 plays in-between ensemble breaks in and 91, then begin swung time in each bar. bar 93. 97 Theme played by the piano and 16 X/Bass Drums keep swung time. vibraphone while bass improvisation occurs simultaneously. 113 Bass improvises coda. Vibraphone 12 Bass Drums keep swung time until and piano ostinato accompanies the bar 123. first four bars, then the bass performs over swung time without vibraphone and piano backing until bar 123 where it plays unaccompanied.

Part III ( = 260 aprox.) q

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Composed introduction where 8 X Piano and bass play in rhythmic ensemble hits alternate with unison. Drums keep swung time vibraphone fills. until bar 7 where they give a 2 bar break. 9 Theme played by the piano while 16 X/Vibraphone Drums keep swung time. vibraphone improvisation occurs simultaneously. Bass walks changes. 25 Theme played by the piano while 16 X/Vibraphone Cont. vibraphone improvisation occurs simultaneously. Bass walks changes. 41 Composed bridging section in which 8 X/Vibraphone Drums play in rhythmic unison the piano and bass play the melody with piano and bass. while the vibraphone improvises fills. 49 Ensemble hits derived from the final 16 X/Vibraphone Drums keep swung time. 8 bars of the theme alternate with vibraphone fills. 65 Vibraphone improvisation over two 24 Vibraphone Cont. 12-bar blues forms. Piano comps chords. Bass walks changes. 89 Composed bridging section; 8 X/Vibraphone Drums hit on beat 1 of bars 89 Vibraphone plays in between and 91, then begin swung time in ensemble breaks in each bar. bar 93. 97 Theme played by the piano while 16 X/Vibraphone Drums keep swung time. vibraphone improvisation occurs simultaneously. Bass walks changes.

254 Appendix (c) – Continued

Table O (continued)

113 Vibraphone improvises coda. Piano 12 Bass Drums keep swung time until and bass play hits over swung time bar 123. until bar 123 where the vibraphone is left to play unaccompanied.

Part IV ( =192 aprox.) q

M. Section Length Improvisation Rhythmic Features 1 Composed introduction where 8 Drums Improvised drum fills. ensemble hits alternate with drum fills. 9 Theme played in unison at the octave 16 X/Drums Cont. by piano and vibraphone. Bass plays on beat 1 of bars 9 and 13 before supporting the ensemble in rhythmic unison at bar 17. 25 Theme repeated in unison at the 16 X/Drums Cont. octave by piano and vibraphone. Bass plays on beat 1 of bars 25 and 29 before supporting the ensemble in rhythmic unison at bar 33. 41 Composed bridging section. Drums 8 X/Drums Cont. play fills in between ensemble breaks in each bar. 49 Ensemble hits derived from the final 16 Drums Cont. 8 bars of the theme alternate with drum fills. 65 Vibraphone and piano improvise 12 Vibraphone + Drums keep swung time. over one 12-bar blues form. Bass Piano walks changes. 77 Vibraphone and piano play new 12 X Cont. chordal melody over 12 bars. Bass pedals on Db half-notes. 89 Composed bridging section. Drums 8 X/Drums Improvised drum fills. play fills in between ensemble breaks in each bar. 97 Theme played in unison at the octave 13 X/Drums Cont. by piano and vibraphone. Bass plays on beat 1 of bars 97 and 103 before supporting the ensemble in rhythmic unison at bar 107. 110 Drums play unaccompanied solo. 20 Drums Drum solo. seconds

In relation to the discussion on p. 170, note the centrality of the blues form in each movement of the Suite.

255 Appendix (d) – Sait-on Jamais (1957) Soundscape

Colour Coding:

Improvisation in connection with core positive narrative strains Improvisation in connection with positive narrative strains (comic relief) "Crime Jazz" Cliché

Time Diegetic/Non Diegetic Sound Source Scene Description Music Description

1:07-1:18 Non-Diegetic N/A Sophie is watching a cartoon in a Orchestral cinema. The cartoon character is accompaniment. kidnapped by flying saucer.

1:52-2:04 Non-Diegetic N/A Aliens speaking in "jive" describe the Blues based trumpet good-looking girls on the alien planet. melody played over drum ostinato.

2:12-2:15 Non-Diegetic N/A Cartoon character is introduced to Trumpet fanfare. alien king.

4:12-4:15 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Cinema Sophie leaves the cinema. Trumpet fanfare Speakers plays as part of the cartoon.

5:12-6:35 Non-Diegetic N/A Michél introduces himself to Sophie Golden Striker outside of the cinema. They walk theme One through the streets of Venice. Never Knows theme (MJQ).

6:36-7:50 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi sees Michél and Sophie "Crime Jazz" cliché speaking outside a bar. Three Windows theme (MJQ).

7:51-8:13 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Live jazz Michél and Sophie enter bar. Three Windows quartet theme continues (MJQ).

8:14-9:50 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Live jazz Michél and Sophie flirt while avoiding Vibraphone quartet discussion of past relationships. improvisation over Three Windows form (MJQ).

9:51-10:37 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Live jazz Sforzi enters bar to confront Sophie. The Rose Truc quartet theme (MJQ).

10:38-11:40 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi takes Sophie over to empty Vibraphone band stand to warn her against seeing improvisation over Michél. The Rose Truc from (MJQ).

11:41-12:52 Diegetic Live jazz Sophie and Michél eat dinner while a Venice theme quartet jazz combo plays in the background. (MJQ). Sophie invites Michél back to her villa.

13:43-14:32 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Record player Michél and Sophie discuss their Vibraphone relationship in Sophie's bedroom. improvisation over major 12-bar blues.

256 Appendix (d) – Continued

15:38-16:02 Diegetic Live piano Michél stumbles on Bernard playing Unidentified Rag. piano.

17:35-19:43 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Record player Sophie tells Michél of how the Baron Venice theme rescued her from poverty. Vibraphone improvisation over Venice form- The Rose Truc theme (MJQ).

19:44-19:52 Diegetic Live piano Bernard plays ragtime on the piano. Unidentified Rag. The Baron, frustrated by Michél’s presence enters and tells him to stop.

22:17-22:58 Diegetic Record player Sophie tells Michél she loves him the Piano morning after their tryst. improvisation over major 12-bar blues.

22:59-24:38 Non-Diegetic N/A Michél bets on racing mice with Piano Bernard and Sforzi. improvisation continues, transitions to vibraphone improvisation.

26:12-29:09 Non-Diegetic N/A Michél plays chess with the Baron. Three Windows The Baron offers a different version theme One of how he and Sophie met then the Never Knows one offered by Sophie the previous theme (MJQ). night.

32:22-33:15 Non-Diegetic N/A Michél enters the Baron's study where Three Windows the Baron is either restoring or theme (MJQ). forging a painting.

33:16-34:40 Non-Diegetic N/A Michél tells the Baron he is taking Piano Sophie away. improvisation over Three Windows form (MJQ).

34:40-34:55 Non-Diegetic N/A Sophie goes to say goodbye to the Three Windows Baron. theme (MJQ).

38:22-38:42 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi enters Baron's villa and finds a Cortege theme man hanging by a noose. (MJQ).

38:43-38:57 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi pulls the hand of the man and Piano it comes off, revealing it to be a improvisation over dummy constructed by the servents Three Windows as a practical joke. form (MJQ).

45:32-47:20 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi interrupts Michél and Sophie at Chopin Piano their hotel. He attempts to seduce Sonata No. 2 in Bb Sophie in an effort to bring her back Minor, Op. 35 to the Baron.

48:30-49:46 Diegetic Live jazz Michél and Sophie have dinner at a Unidentified quartet Venice club. calypso (MJQ).

257 Appendix (d) – Continued

49:47-51:22 Diegetic Live jazz Sophie is confronted by Sforzi in a Venice theme quartet back room of the club. He hits her (MJQ). and declares his love for her.

51:23-52:57 Diegetic Live jazz Sophie returns to Michél and asks to Vibraphone quartet leave. Sforzi meets the detective improvisation over investigating the Baron at the bar. Venice form The detetective tells Sforzi he has Piano blood on his shirt. improvisation over Venice form (MJQ).

53:07-54:22 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi meets Sophie on her way home "Crime Jazz" cliché from the shops. He givers her a rose Three Windows and convinces her to leave Michél. theme (MJQ).

1:01:39-1:02:05 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi enters Baron's study and tells Three Windows the Baron that Sophie remembers theme Cortege where to find the hidden money. theme (MJQ).

1:02:06-1:02:30 Non-Diegetic N/A Baron shows Sforzi a letter he has Vibraphone written to Michél transferring access improvisation over to the funds. Cortege form (MJQ).

1:03:03-1:04:05 Diegetic Piano in far Sforzi explains to the Baron why he Chopin Grande room needs to kill him. Walse Brillante Op. 34. No. 2.

1:04:45-1:05:00 Non-Diegetic N/A The Baron tells Sforzi he doesn't The Rose Truc believe he has the courage to commit them (MJQ). murder.

1:05:01-1:05-31 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi stabs the Baron. Cymbal roll, ascending vibes/piano/bass melody.

1:11:45-1:12:52 Non-Diegetic/Diegetic Record Player The detective interviews Michél about Guitar melody. his relationship with Sophie and Sforzi in Michél's hotel room.

1:14:05-1:15:32 Non-Diegetic N/A Funeral procession through canals. Cortege theme (MJQ).

1:15:33-1:16:25 Non-Diegetic N/A Michél pulls up to Sophie's gondola Vibraphone and kisses her hand. improvisation Piano improvisation over Cortege form (MJQ).

1:16:26-1:17:18 Non-Diegetic N/A An angry Sforzi hits Sophie. Sophie Cortege theme tells the gondolier to let her out. (MJQ).

258 Appendix (d) – Continued

1:22:26-1:24:11 Non-Diegetic N/A Sophie waits with Sforzi in his "Crime Jazz" cliché apartment. She secretly lets Michél in Three Windows to find the letter the Baron wrote theme Piano giving Michél control over his estate. improvisation over form (MJQ).

1:29:30-1:29:43 Non-Diegetic N/A Sforzi leaps a gap between buildings Cymbal roll, while chasing Michél across the ascending rooftops of Venice. vibes/piano/bass melody (same as scene where Baron is stabbed).

1:31:12-1:33:44 Non-Diegetic N/A Police pull Sforzi's body from the Three Windows canal after he has fallen to his death. theme One Never Knows theme (MJQ).

259 Appendix (e) – Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) Soundscape

Colour Coding:

Scenes including improvisation

Time Diegetic/Non Diegetic Sound Source Scene Description Music Description

:00-:14 Non-Diegetic N/A Universal logo. Universal theme music.

:15-1:57 Non-Diegetic N/A Opening credits Introductory theme in which motive "a" and motive "b" are paired and orchestrated for the full ensemble.

2:05-2:35 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater walks down a New Motive "b" is stated by the York street on the way to guitar and transitions to motive Burke's apartment. "a."

2:36-2:43 Non-Diegetic N/A cont. Solo trumpet interlude (not obviously improvised).

2:44-2:50 Non-Diegetic N/A cont. Motive "a" performed by solo guitar.

2:51-3:07 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater careens with an Motive "a" continues in the African-American child guitar and is paired with motive playing outside the "b" in the trumpet. An apartment building. He additional trombone line adds refers to her as a dissonance. "pickininny."

3:08-3:22 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater enters Burke's Motive "b" orchestrated into apartment building and dissonant brass chords. pounds on the manager's desk.

7:37-8:08 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater confronts Burke Drums play on toms and are about the assumption that paired with bass. Horn plays he is a criminal. motive "b," trumpets enter with the same motive.

8:09-8:14 Non-Diegetic N/A Burke tries to convince Drums and bass play a Slater to do the robbery. syncopated riff utilizing octaves and a flat seventh.

8:15-9:10 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny drives up to the Brass chords to the rhythm of front of Slater's apartment motive "b" transition to a flute building, exits his car and solo over quartet backing. enters. While the solo is not obviously improvised, it evinces a good deal of syncopation and it is swung.

260 Appendix (e) – Continued

12:58-13:57 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny gives Burke a ride Layering of horn and downtown. trombone melodies set a tritone apart give way to variations of motive "a" played by the vibraphone and set against a sustained low brass pedal. Dissonant brass chords played to the rhythm of motive "b" are used to signal the end of the scene as Burke exists Johnny's car.

17:27-18:47 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater's girlfriend loans Motive "b" played by a solo Slater money for the trip guitar transitions to a doubling to Melton. of the motive in the guitar and bass. Motive "a" is then played by the guitar and supported by dissonant brass chords before being paired solely with flute trills.

19:04-19:51 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater and Burke drive to Motive "b" orchestrated into Melton. dissonant brass chords.

19:52-20:26 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater and Burke arrive in Layering of motive "b," Melton. beginning in the tuba and then incorporating the French horn and trumpets.

20:44-22:25 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater and Burke watch a Tympani plays motive "b" and waiter deliver food to the these statements are bank after hours. Burke interspersed with snare rolls. describes the robbery plan.

22:30-24:41 Diegetic Live band Johnny sings and plays "My Baby's Not Around" the vibraphone at a jazz (1959) written by Belafonte club. and performed by the MJQ with Belafonte as vocalist. Milt Jackson improvises over a discussion between Johnny and one of his creditors. Apart from Belafonte, the other musicians on stage pantomime their parts.

24:55-28:50 Diegetic Live band Johnny runs into his ex- Bebop style improvisation girlfriend and has his debt beginning in the piano is called in by the local followed by bass and crime boss. saxophone improvisation.

29:28-30:22 Diegetic Live band Johnny drunkenly "All Men are Evil" (1959), an accompanies another R&B style song written by singer at the jazz club. Belafonte and performed by Mae Barnes. The song ends with a frantic vibraphone improvisation pantomimed by Belafonte.

261 Appendix (e) – Continued

33:18-33:42 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny kisses his wife Motive "a" performed by the goodbye when picking up vibraphone, underscored by his daughter. string pedal.

33:44-35:22 Diegetic/Non-Diegetic Merry-go-round Johnny's daughter rides Carnival style organ music, the merry-go-round, transitions to motive "b" Johnny sees that he is played by the trumpets. being followed by the gangsters he owes money to.

35:23-36:30 Diegetic Skating rink Johnny calls Burke from a "Skating in Central Park" speakers pay phone to confirm his (1959) orchestrated. involvement in the robbery.

40:48-42:20 Diegetic/Non-Diegetic N/A Slater enters a bar and Vibraphone improvisation confronts a young army over the form of "Cue #9" cadet. (1959). Music stops abruptly at the time of confrontation effectively confirming a non- diegetic sound source.

43:38-44:27 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater explains to the Guitar and brass perform a bartender that he didn't variation of motive "a" which mean to hurt the cadet. transitions to chordal brass statements of motive "b" and then a solo guitar statements of motive "b."

44:28-47:35 Non-Diegetic N/A Burke's girlfriend Motive "b" in the guitar attempts to console him. transitions to swung ostinato doubled in the bass. An improvised guitar solo utilizing blues tropes follows. Dissonant brass chords to the rhythm of motive "b" accompany Slater's girlfriend's exit and his call to Burke confirming his participation.

48:00-51:22 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny and his wife flirt. Motive "a" begins in the guitar She then asks him to leave and is doubled by the the apartment for the sake vibraphone. A bass ostinato of their child. and vibraphone solo follows (not obviously improvised). Motive "a" then returns in the harp accompanied by a flute melody.

51:27-55:17 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater's next door Bass and drum ostinato gives neighbour comes over to way to cascading piano lines complain about her and brass chords played to the husband. She asks Slater rhythm of motive "b". This about the man he killed passage in turn gives way to the before he went to prison. quartet performance of "No Their flirtations lead to Happiness for Slater"(1959) sex. during which Lewis improvises.

262 Appendix (e) – Continued

59:01-59:40 Non-Diegetic N/A Burke praises Johnny for Ensemble trumpet passage his idea on how to get the ending with motive "b." bank gaurds to open the door after hours.

59:41-1:01:00 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater's girlfriend Swung guitar performance of apologises for their fight. motive "b" with high-hat and flute accompaniment.

1:02:05-1:04:45 Non-Diegetic N/A Burke, Johnny and Slater Ostinato first stated in the travel up to Melton vibraphone and then in the bass accompanied by drums. As the tempo of the score increases, the ostinato reduces from four notes to two and an extended vibraphone improvisation can be heard over the top. This passage is punctuated by dissonant brass chords played to the rhythm of motive "b."

1:05:58-1:07:54 Non-Diegetic N/A Burke and Slater discuss Motive "b" in the brass is the hiring of Johnny. followed by motive "a" in the During the conversation, harp before returning to the bus Johnny is taking motive "b" in the brass. This to Melton passes them on passage then transitions back the highway. to the four-note ostinato of the previous scene.

1:10:03-1:10:16 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny sees the bank for Dissonant layering of motive the first time. "b" in the brass.

1:13:01-1:17:53 Non-Diegetic N/A The three independently Tympani rolls paired with explore Melton before the motive "a" in the guitar and robbery. motive "b" in the flute. This passage is followed by a return to the four-note and then two note ostinato figure accompanied by a vibraphone melody with added trills and gliss embellishments. The vibraphone melody gives way to an improvised guitar melody utilizing blues tropes. The passage ends with a brass fanfare.

1:22:58-1:23:53 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny approaches the Tympani plays motive "b" and bank dressed as the these statements are waiter. interspersed with snare rolls.

1:25:09-1:26:56 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny, Slater and Burke Motive "a" is played at a fast enter the bank. tempo while the brass repeat a countermelody in unison. Dissonant brass chords played to the rhythm of motive "b" are then added to the passage.

263 Appendix (e) – Continued

1:27:08-1:28:24 Non-Diegetic N/A Slater pulls the real waiter Unison trumpet melody inside the bank to avoid utilizing blues third and blues him calling the police. seventh alternates with dissonant brass chords. Towards the middle of this passage, lip trills are added to the brass chords.

1:32:29-1:34:08 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny chases Slater into Tympani plays motive "b" and a gas plant. these statements are interspersed with both snare and cymbal hits. Cymbal hits evolve to a constant cymbal roll, the ending of which corresponds to the plant explosion.

1:34:46-1:36:01 Non-Diegetic N/A Johnny and Slater's Exit theme combining corpses are revealed to elements of motive "a" and the police investigators. motive "b" transitions to "No Happiness for Slater" (1959) performed by the MJQ underneath the ending credits.

264 Appendix (f) – List of Recorded Works

As this thesis has demonstrated, both collaboration and revision play central roles in African- American musical production. Therefore, it seems necessary when documenting Lewis’ output to account for pieces recorded repeatedly throughout the surveyed period, as well as works on which Lewis performed but did not appear to have a leadership role. The list of recordings that follows endeavours to accomplish these goals by documenting all recording sessions in which Lewis was involved between 1952 and 1962.

This list is provided in chronological order so as to serve as an additional reference for Chapters Four and Five. It is drawn heavily from Tom Lord’s (2002) Jazz Discography but includes additional recordings I became aware of while reading through the trade press as well as albums that were brought to my attention when discussing this project with other scholars. While I have attempted to provide as complete a list as possible, the sheer number of small recording labels in New York during the 1950s and Lewis’ many trips overseas all but ensure that omissions remain. Still, this list provides insight into both the expanse and variety of recordings made by Lewis during the 1952-1962 period while demonstrating the centrality of the MJQ in relation to his output of original compositions.

As the list is quite expansive, I have highlighted in yellow the first time a work composed by Lewis is recorded. It seems reasonable to assume based on the comments by Heath and Lewis surveyed in Chapters Two and Three that the majority of MJQ arrangements of jazz standards were also carried out under Lewis’ control. Yet I have not indicated this on the list of works so as to leave it as free of inference as possible.

265 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

All the things Jerome Kern Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/12/52 Prestige Prest 828 you are (music)/Oscar John Lewis (p) LP7059 Hammerstein Percy Heath (b) PR7421 (lyrics) Kenny Clarke (d) OJC125 CD125-2[CD]

La ronde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/12/52 Prestige Prest 828 John Lewis (p) LP7059 Percy Heath (b) PR7425 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC15

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/12/52 Prestige Prest 851 John Lewis (p) LP7059 Percy Heath (b) PR7425 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC125 CD125-2[CD]

Rose of the Rio Harry Warren Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/12/52 Prestige Prest 851 Grande (music)/Edgar John Lewis (p) LP7059 Lesie (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) PR7421 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC125

The Queen's John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 25/06/53 Prestige Prest 873 fancy John Lewis (p) LP7057 Percy Heath (b) PR7425 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC057 CD057-2[CD]

Delaunay's John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 25/06/53 Prestige Prest 882 dilemma John Lewis (p) LP7057 Percy Heath (b) PR7425 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC057 CD057-2[CD]

Autumn in Vernon Duke Milt Jackson (vib) New York 25/06/53 Prestige Prest 882 New York John Lewis (p) LP7057 Percy Heath (b) PR7421 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC057

But not for me George Gershwin Milt Jackson (vib) New York 25/06/53 Prestige Prest 873 John Lewis (p) LP7057 Percy Heath (b) PR7421 Kenny Clarke (d) OJC057 CD057-2[CD]

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 31/10/53 Session Disc 110 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Lily Unkown Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 31/10/53 Session Disc 110 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

The Queen's John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 31/10/53 Session Disc 110 fancy John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 31/10/53 Session Disc 110 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

266 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

All the things Jerome Kern Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 31/10/53 Session Disc 110 you are (music)/Oscar John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Hammerstein Percy Heath (b) (lyrics) Kenny Clarke (d)

La ronde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 31/10/53 Session Disc 110 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

I'll remember Gene de Paul Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/12/54 Prestige Unissued April (music)/Patricia John Lewis (p) Johnston (lyrics)/ Percy Heath (b) Don Raye (lyrics) Kenny Clarke (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/12/54 Prestige LP7057 John Lewis (p) PR7425 Percy Heath (b) OJC057 Kenny Clarke (d) CD057-2[CD]

One bass hit Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/12/54 Prestige LP7057 John Lewis (p) OJC057 Percy Heath (b) CD057-2[CD] Kenny Clarke (d)

Milano John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/12/54 Prestige LP7057 John Lewis (p) PR7425 Percy Heath (b) OJC057 Kenny Clarke (d)

La ronde (suite John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9/01/55 Prestige LP7057 pts 1-4) John Lewis (p) PR24005 Percy Heath (b) PR7425 Kenny Clarke (d) PR7749 OJC057 CD057-2[CD]

What's new? Bob Haggart Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 20/01/55 Alto AL716 (music)/Johnny John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Burke (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

I'll remember Gene de Paul Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 20/01/55 Alto AL716 April (music)/Patricia John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Johnston (lyrics)/ Percy Heath (b) Don Raye (lyrics) Kenny Clarke (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 20/01/55 Alto AL716 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Concord [e] John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 23/01/55 Alto AL716 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Yesterdays Jerome Kern Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 23/01/55 Alto AL716 (music)/Otto John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Harbach (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

267 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

One bass hit Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 23/01/55 Alto AL716 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 30/01/55 Alto AL716 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

What's new? Bob Haggart Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 30/01/55 Session Disc 111 (music)/Johnny John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Burke (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

One bass hit Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 30/01/55 Session Disc 111 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 30/01/55 Session Disc 111 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Concord [e] John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 30/01/55 Session Disc 111 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Milt meets Sid John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 30/01/55 Session Disc 111 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

D&E John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 111 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Yesterdays Jerome Kern Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 111 (music)/Otto John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Harbach (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 111 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Autumn in Vernon Duke Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 112 New York John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Autumn Josef Myrow Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 112 Nocturne John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

268 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Milt Meets Sid John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 112 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Summertime George Gershwin Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live 6/02/55 Session Disc 112 (music)/DuBose John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Heyward (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Ralph's new Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 2/07/55 Atlantic LP7005 blues John Lewis (p) New Jersey PR24005 Percy Heath (b) OJC002 Connie Kay (d) CD002-2[CD]

All of you Cole Porter Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 2/07/55 Atlantic LP7005 John Lewis (p) New Jersey PR24005 Percy Heath (b) OJC002 Connie Kay (d) CD002-2[CD]

I'll remember Gene de Paul Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 2/07/55 Atlantic LP7005 April (music)/Patricia John Lewis (p) New Jersey PR24005 Johnston (lyrics)/ Percy Heath (b) OJC002 Don Raye (lyrics) Connie Kay (d) CD002-2[CD]

Gershwin George Gershwin Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 2/07/55 Atlantic LP7005 Medley (music)/Ira John Lewis (p) New Jersey PR24005 Gershwin (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) OJC002 Connie Kay (d) CD002-2[CD]

Concorde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 2/07/55 Atlantic LP7005 John Lewis (p) New Jersey PR24005 Percy Heath (b) OJC002 Connie Kay (d) CD002-2[CD]

Softly, as in Sigmund Romberg Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 2/07/55 Atlantic LP7005 morning (music)/Oscar John Lewis (p) New Jersey PR24005 sunrise Hammerstein Percy Heath (b) OJC002 (lyrics) Connie Kay (d) CD002-2[CD]

Woody' n you Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 John Lewis (p) New Jersey 81329-2[CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Willow weep Ann Ronell Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 for me John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Fontessa John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Versailles John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

269 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Angel eyes Matt Dennis Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 (music)/Earl John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Brent (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Over the Harold Arlen Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 rainbow (music)/E.Y. John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Harburg (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 John Lewis (p) New Jersey 81329-2[CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Night in Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 Tunisia John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

D&E John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 22/01/56 Atlantic LP1231 John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

I can't get Vernon Duke John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 10/02/56 Pacific PJ1217 started (music)/Ira Percy Heath (b) Jazz PJ44 Gershwin (lyrics) Chico Hamilton ST20144 (d)

Skylark Hoagy Carmichael John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 10/02/56 Pacific PJ1217 (music)/Johnny Percy Heath (b) Jazz PJ44 Mercer (lyrics) Chico Hamilton ST20144 (d) Jim Hall (g)

Love me or Walter Donaldson John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 10/02/56 Pacific PJ1217 leave me (music)/Gus Percy Heath (b) Jazz PJ44 Kahn (lyrics) Chico Hamilton ST20144 (d) Jim Hall (g) Bill Perkins (ts)

Almost like Frederick Loewe John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 10/02/56 Pacific PJ1217 being in love (music)/Alan Jay Percy Heath (b) Jazz PJ44 (lyrics) Chico Hamilton ST20144 (d) Jim Hall (g) Bill Perkins (ts)

2 degrees east, John Lewis John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 10/02/56 Pacific PJ1217 3 degrees west Percy Heath (b) Jazz PJ44 Chico Hamilton ST20144 (d) PJ100 Jim Hall (g) Bill Perkins (ts)

270 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Easy living Ralph Rainger, John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 10/02/56 Pacific PJ1217 Leo Robin Percy Heath (b) Jazz PJ44 Chico Hamilton ST20144 (d) Jim Hall (g) Bill Perkins (ts)

Woody' n you Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 14/02/56 Atlantic LP1231 (alternate take) John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Hackensack, 14/02/56 Atlantic LP1231 (alternate take) John Lewis (p) New Jersey SD1231 Percy Heath (b) 81329-2[CD] Connie Kay (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

How high the Morgan Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 moon (music)/Nancy John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Hamilton (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

Round Bernie Hanigen, Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 midnight Cootie Williams, John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Thelonious Monk Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

I'll remember Gene de Paul Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 April (music)/Patricia John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Johnston (lyrics)/ Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Don Raye (lyrics) Connie Kay (d) Island

Versailles John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

Two degrees John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 East, three John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America degrees West Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

Ralph's new Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 blues John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

God rest ye Traditional Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 merry, John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America gentleman Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

Willow weep Ann Ronell Milt Jackson (vib) Live "Newport 5/07/56 Voice of J100 for me John Lewis (p) Jazz Festival", America Percy Heath (b) Newport, Rhode Connie Kay (d) Island

271 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

The blues Unknown John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic Unissued Barry Galbraith (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

It never entered Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic LP1272 my mind (music)/ Barry Galbraith AMCY-1035 Lorenz Hart (g) [CD] (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The bad and John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic LP1272 the beautiful Barry Galbraith AMCY-1035 (g) [CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Warmeland Swedish Folk John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic LP1272 (Dear Song Barry Galbraith AMCY-1035 Stockholm) (g) [CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) untitled Lewis John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic Unissued original Barry Galbraith (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Jeannine Duke Pearson John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic LP1272 Barry Galbraith AMCY-1035 (g) [CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

My heart stood Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/56 Atlantic LP1272 still (music)/Lorenz Barry Galbraith AMCY-1035 Hart (lyrics) (g) [CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

(Medley:) Da Jimmy Giuffre Jimmy Giuffre Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1345 Capo, Fine (cl,ts) Jim Hall (g) Lenox, Mass. Ralph Pena (b) with Milt Jackson (vib) John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bess, oh George Gershwin Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 where's my (music)/Ira John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Bess? Gershwin (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

A fugue for John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 Music Inn John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. 82330-2[CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Jimmy Guiffre (cl)

Two degrees John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 East, three John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. degrees West Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

272 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Serenade David Raskin Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. 82330-2[CD] Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Jimmy Guiffre (cl)

Fun Jimmy Giuffre Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Jimmy Guiffre (cl)

Sun Dance John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The man that Harold Arlen Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 got away (music)/Ira John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Gershwin (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

A morning in John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 Paris John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Variation no. 1 Traditional Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/56 Atlantic LP1247 on "God rest ye John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. merry, Percy Heath (b) gentleman" Connie Kay (d)

Three Little John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 20/10/56 Columbia CL 941 Feelings Carmine Fornarotto, Bernie Glow, Arthur Strutter, John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) Miles Davis (flh, tp) Ron Ricketts, John Swallow (barh) John Clark, Urbie Green, J.J. Johnson (tb) Ray Alonge, Jim Buffington, Joe Singer, Art Sussman (frh) Bill Barber (tu) Milt Hinton (b) Osie Johnson (d) Richard Horowitz (per) Gunther Schuller (cond)

All the things Jerome Kern Barney Wilen (ts) Paris, France 4/12/56 Versailles MEDX12005 you are (music)/Oscar John Lewis (p) LP1267 Hammerstein Sacha Distel (g) (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

273 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Barney Wilen (ts) Paris, France 4/12/56 Versailles MEDX12005 John Lewis (p) LP1267 Sacha Distel (g) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Willow weep Ann Ronell Barney Wilen (ts) Paris, France 4/12/56 Versailles MEDX12005 for me John Lewis (p) LP1267 Sacha Distel (g) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

I cover the Johnny Green Barney Wilen (ts) Paris, France 7/12/56 Versailles MEDX12005 waterfront (music)/Edward John Lewis (p) LP1267 Heyman (lyrics) Sacha Distel (g) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Dear old Swedish folk song Barney Wilen (ts) Paris, France 7/12/56 Versailles MEDX12005 Stockholm John Lewis (p) LP1267 Sacha Distel (g) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Afternoon in John Lewis Barney Wilen (ts) Paris, France 7/12/56 Versailles MEDX12005 Paris John Lewis (p) LP1267 Sacha Distel (g) Percy Heath (b) Kenny Clarke (d)

Two degrees John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 East, three John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology degrees West Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Between the Harold Arlen Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 devil and the (music)/Ted John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology deep blue sea Koehler (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Angel eyes Matt Dennis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 (music)/Earl John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology Brent (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

God rest ye Traditional Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 merry, John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology gentleman Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Delaunay's John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 dilemma John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

274 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Bess, oh George Gershwin Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 where's my (music)/Ira John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology Bess? Gershwin (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York (Live ??/??/56 Jazz JA5027 John Lewis (p) – Birdland) Anthology Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Little girl blue Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 21/02/57 Atlantic LP1272 (music)/Lorenz Percy Heath (b) AMCY-1035 Hart (lyrics) Connie Kay (d)

D&E John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 21/02/57 Atlantic LP1272 Percy Heath (b) AMCY-1035 Connie Kay (d)

Three windows John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 4/04/57 Atlantic LP1284 John Lewis (p) SD1284 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Cortege John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 4/04/57 Atlantic LP1284 John Lewis (p) SD 2-301 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The golden John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 4/04/57 Atlantic LP1284 striker John Lewis (p) SD 2-301 Percy Heath (b) SD 2-316 Connie Kay (d) SD 1546

One never John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 4/04/57 Atlantic LP1284 knows John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The rose truc John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 4/04/57 Atlantic LP1284 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Venice John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 4/04/57 Atlantic LP1284 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Between the Harold Arlen Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 devil and the (music)/Ted John Lewis (p) deep blue sea Koehler (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

La ronde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Night in Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 Tunisia John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

275 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Yesterdays Jerome Kern Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 (music)/Otto John Lewis (p) Harbach (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Baden-Baden John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

(Ballad Irving Berlin Milt Jackson (vib) New York 5/04/57 Atlantic LP K40355 Medley:) They (They say; How John Lewis (p) say its deep)/Victor Percy Heath (b) wonderful, Young (A Connie Kay (d) How deep is ghost)/Arthur the ocean, A Johnston and Sam ghost of a Coslow (My old chance (mj flame)/ Edward out), My old Haymen (Body flame, Body and Soul) and Soul

Little girl blue Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/57 Atlantic Unissued (music)/Lorenz others unknown Hart (lyrics)

D&E John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/57 Atlantic Unissued others unknown

How high the Morgan Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/57 Atlantic Unissued moon (music)/Nancy others unknown Hamilton (lyrics)

My heart stood Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 30/07/57 Atlantic Unissued still (music)/Lorenz others unknown Hart (lyrics)

Pierrot John Lewis John Lewis (p) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic LP1272 (Original no 1) Jim Hall (b) Lenox, Mass. AMCY-1035 Connie Kay (d)

Columbine John Lewis John Lewis (p) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic LP1272 (Original no 2) Jim Hall (b) Lenox, Mass. AMCY-1035 Connie Kay (d)

Harlequin John Lewis John Lewis (p) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic LP1272 (Original no 3) Jim Hall (b) Lenox, Mass. AMCY-1035 Connie Kay (d)

Day dream Billy Strayhorn, John Lewis (p) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic Unissued Duke Ellington Jim Hall (b) Lenox, Mass. Connie Kay (d)

The golden John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic Unissued striker John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

276 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Cortege John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Saint-on jamais John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic Unissued (One never John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. knows) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Three windows John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The rose truc John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 24/08/57 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bean Stalkin' Coleman Hawkins Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Coleman Hawkins "Opera House", (ts) Chicago John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Tea for Two Vincent Youmans, Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Irving Caesar John Lewis (p) "Opera House", Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

The Walker Roy Eldridge, Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Coleman Hawkins John Lewis (p) "Opera House", V/V6 8568 Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

Kerry Coleman Hawkins, Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Roy Eldridge John Lewis (p) "Opera House", Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

I Can't Get Vernon Duke Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Started (music)/Ira John Lewis (p) "Opera House", Gershwin (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

Time on My Vincent Youmans Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Hands (music)/Harold Coleman Hawkins "Opera House", Adamson (ts) John Lewis (p) Chicago (lyrics)/Mack Percy Heath (b) Gordon (lyrics) Connie Kay (d)

Blue Moon Richard Rodgers Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 (music)/Lorenz John Lewis (p) "Opera House", Hart (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

277 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Cocktails for Arthur Johnston, Roy Eldridge (tp) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8266 Two Sam Coslow Coleman Hawkins "Opera House", (ts) Chicago John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

D&E John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8269 John Lewis (p) "Opera House", V3HB 8848 Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

Now's the time Charlie Parker Milt Jackson (vib) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8269 John Lewis (p) "Opera House", V3HB 8848 Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

Round Bernie Hanigen, Milt Jackson (vib) JATP Concert 19/10/57 Verve MGV 8269 midnight Cootie Williams, John Lewis (p) "Opera House", V3HB 8848 Thelonious Monk Percy Heath (b) Chicago Connie Kay (d)

Three windows John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Donaueschingen 27/10/57 MPS 15479 John Lewis (p) Germany (Released Percy Heath (b) 1980) Connie Kay (d)

The golden John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Donaueschingen 27/10/57 MPS 15479 striker John Lewis (p) Germany (Released Percy Heath (b) 1980) Connie Kay (d)

Cortege John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Donaueschingen 27/10/57 MPS 15479 John Lewis (p) Germany (Released Percy Heath (b) 1980) Connie Kay (d)

J.B. blues John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Donaueschingen 27/10/57 MPS 15479 John Lewis (p) Germany (Released Percy Heath (b) 1980) Connie Kay (d)

The rose truc John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Donaueschingen 27/10/57 Ingo Twelve John Lewis (p) Germany (Released Percy Heath (b) 2007) Connie Kay (d)

Animal Dance John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa EJ1005 John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa EJ1005 John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Milano John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa EJ1005 John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

278 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa EJ1005 John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa EJ1005 John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Sketch 3 John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa EJ1005 John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Jazz Group De Paris on (1)

Ambiquite John Lewis, André Milt Jackson (vib) Paris, France ??/??/58 Europa CDC7678 Hodeir John Lewis (p) Jazz Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Jazz Group De Paris on (1)

I'll remember Gene de Paul Milt Jackson (vib) San Remo, Italy 19/01/58 Ingo Twelve April (music)/Patricia John Lewis (p) (Released Johnston (lyrics)/ Percy Heath (b) 2007) Don Raye (lyrics) Connie Kay (d)

Night in Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) San Remo, Italy 19/01/58 Ingo Twelve Tunisia John Lewis (p) (Released Percy Heath (b) 2007) Connie Kay (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) San Remo, Italy 19/01/58 Ingo Twelve John Lewis (p) (Released Percy Heath (b) 2007) Connie Kay (d)

Midsömmer John Lewis Stuttgart Stuttgart, 20&21/02/ RCA LPM-1742 Symphony Germany 58 Orchestra, John Lewis (cond)

The Queen's John Lewis Stuttgart Stuttgart, 20&21/02/ RCA LPM-1742 Fancy Symphony Germany 58 Orchestra, John Lewis (cond)

Cortege John Lewis Stuttgart Stuttgart, 20&21/02/ RCA LPM-1742 Symphony Germany 58 Orchestra, John Lewis (cond)

Two-Degrees John Lewis Stuttgart Stuttgart, 20&21/02/ RCA LPM-1742 East, Three- Symphony Germany 58 Degrees West Orchestra, John Lewis (cond)

England's Carol Traditional Stuttgart Stuttgart, 20&21/02/ RCA LPM-1742 Symphony Germany 58 Orchestra, John Lewis (cond)

279 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Three John Lewis Stuttgart Stuttgart, 20&21/02/ RCA LPM-1742 Windows Symphony Germany 58 Orchestra, John Lewis (cond)

Yardbird suite Charlie Parker Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/08/58 Atlantic LP1299 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Sonny Rollins (ts)

Now's the time Charlie Parker Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/08/58 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Sonny Rollins (ts)

Festival sketch John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/08/58 Atlantic LP1299 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Sonny Rollins (ts)

Midsömmer John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/08/58 Atlantic LP1299 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Sonny Rollins (ts)

(Balld Medley:) Hoagy Carmichael Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/08/58 Atlantic LP1299 Startdust, I and Mitchell John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. can't get Parish Percy Heath (b) started, Lover (Stardust)/Vernon Connie Kay (d) + man Duke and Ira Sonny Rollins (ts) Gershwin (I can't get strated)/Jimmy Davis, Roger Ramirez, Jimmy Sherman (Lover man)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/09/58 Atlantic LP1299 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. SD 2-301 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Sonny Rollins (ts)

Night in Dizzy Gillespie Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 3/09/58 Atlantic LP1299 Tunisia John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Sonny Rollins (ts)

How long has George Gershwin John Lewis (p) New York 7/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 this been going Percy Heath (b) AMCY-1104 on? Connie Kay (d)

The song is you Jerome Kern John Lewis (p) New York 7/05/59 Atlantic Unissued (music)/Oscar Percy Heath (b) Hammerstein Connie Kay (d) (lyrics)

280 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Yesterdays Jerome Kern John Lewis (p) New York 7/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 (music)/Otto Percy Heath (b) AMCY-1104 Harbach (lyrics) Connie Kay (d)

Ralph's new Milt Jackson John Lewis (p) New York 7/05/59 Atlantic Unissued blues Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Round Bernie Hanigen, John Lewis (p) New York 7/05/59 Atlantic Unissued midnight Cootie Williams, Percy Heath (b) Thelonious Monk Connie Kay (d)

Love me John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 7/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 Percy Heath (b) AMCY-1104 Connie Kay (d)

My heart stood Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 8/05/59 Atlantic Unissued still (music)/Lorenz George Duvivier Hart (lyrics) (b) Connie Kay (d)

Now's the time Charlie Parker John Lewis (p) New York 8/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 George Duvivier AMCY-1104 (b) Connie Kay (d)

Delaunay's John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 8/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 dilemma George Duvivier AMCY-1104 (b) Connie Kay (d)

Smoke gets in Jerome Kern John Lewis (p) New York 8/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 your eyes (music)/Otto George Duvivier AMCY-1104 Herbach (lyrics) (b) Connie Kay (d)

September Kurt Weill John Lewis (p) New York 8/05/59 Atlantic LP1313 song (music)/Maxwell George Duvivier AMCY-1104 Anderson (lyrics) (b) Connie Kay (d)

Prelude to John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 "Odds against Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists tomorrow" John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Rob Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Rich Horowitz (perc)

281 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

A cold wind is John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 blowing Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Five figure John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 people crossing Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists paths John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

282 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

How to frame John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 pigeons Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Morning trip to John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Melton Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

283 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Looking at John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Caper Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Johnny John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Ingram's Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists possessions John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

284 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

The carousel John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 incident Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Skatin' in John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Central Park Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

285 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

No Happiness John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 for Slater Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Odds against John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 tomorrow Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists (main theme) John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

286 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Games John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Social Call John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

287 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

The impractical John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 man Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Advance on John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Melton Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

288 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Waiting around John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 the corner Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Distractions John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

289 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

The caper John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 failure Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Postlude John Lewis Bernie Glow, New York 16, 17 & United UAL4061 Melvin Broiles, 20/7/59 Artists John Ware, Joe Wilder (tp) John Clark, Tom McIntosh (tb) Ray Alonge, Paul Ingraham, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (fhr) Harvey Philllips (tu) Robert Di Domenican (fl) Harvey Shapiro, Joe Tekula (cello) Ruth Berman (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Walter Rosenberg, Richard Horowitz (perc)

Exposure film John Lewis Unkown New York 7/08/59 Atlantic Unissued score

La cantatrice John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 21/08/59 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Harlequin John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 22/08/59 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

290 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 22/08/59 Atlantic LP1325 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Romaine Jim Hall Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 25/08/59 Atlantic LP1325 John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Blues (Pyramid) Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 26&28/8/5 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. 9 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Slowly Unknown Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 28/08/59 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

It don't mean a Duke Ellington Milt Jackson (vib) Music Inn, 29/08/59 Atlantic Unissued thing John Lewis (p) Lenox, Mass. Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Sketch John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/09/59 Atlantic LP1345 John Lewis (p) SD1345 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + The Beaux Arts String Quartet: Geral Tarak, Allan Martin (vln) Carl Eberl (viola) Joe Tekula (cello) John Lewis (cond)

Conversation Gunther Schuller Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/09/59 Atlantic LP1345 John Lewis (p) SD1345 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + The Beaux Arts String Quartet: Geral Tarak, Allan Martin (vln) Carl Eberl (viola) Joe Tekula (cello) Gunther Schuller (cond)

A social call John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9&10/10/5 United UAL4063 John Lewis (p) 9 Artists Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Skating in John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9&10/10/5 United UAL4063 Central Park John Lewis (p) 9 Artists Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Cue no 9 John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9&10/10/5 United UAL4063 John Lewis (p) 9 Artists Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

291 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

No happiness John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9&10/10/5 United UAL4063 for Slater John Lewis (p) 9 Artists Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

A cold wind is John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9&10/10/5 United UAL4063 blowing John Lewis (p) 9 Artists Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Odds against John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 9&10/10/5 United UAL4063 tomorrow John Lewis (p) 9 Artists Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

It don't mean a Duke Ellington Milt Jackson (vib) New York 21/12/59 Atlantic LP1325 thing John Lewis (p) SD1325 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pyramid Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) New York 21/12/59 Atlantic LP1325 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Exposure John Lewis Paul Ingraham New York 15/01/60 Atlantic LP1345 (frh) Bob Di Domenica (fl) Manny Ziegler (basn) Bill McColl (cl) Joseph Tekula (vlc) Betty Glamann (harp) Milt Jackson (vib) John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) Gunther Schuller (arr, cond)

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 15/01/60 Atlantic LP1325 John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

How high the Morgan Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 15/01/60 Atlantic LP1325 moon (music)/Nancy John Lewis (p) Hamilton (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Odds Against John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 12/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Tomorrow Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d) 292 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

La Cantatrice John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 12/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Polchinella John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 12/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Piazza di John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 15/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Spagna Bernie Glow, Alan (Spanish Steps) Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Piazza Navona John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 15/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

293 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

The golden John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 16/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 striker Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Fanfare II John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 16/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Fanfare I John Lewis Melvin Broiles, New York 16/02/60 Atlantic LP 1334 Bernie Glow, Alan Kiger, Joe Wilder (tp) David Baker, Dick Hixson (tb) Ray Alonge, John Barrows, Al Richman, Gunther Schuller (frh) Jay McAllister (tu) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

La ronde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

I remember Benny Golson Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic LP1385 Clifford John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

294 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Festival sketch John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic LP1385 John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Midsömmer John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Odds against John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued tomorrow John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The cylinder Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic LP1386 John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Percy Heath (b) SD 2-301 Connie Kay (d)

Pyramid Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic LP1386 John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

It don't mean a Duke Ellington Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued thing John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Skating in John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Central Park John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The little John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued comedy John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic LP1386 John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Round Bernie Hanigen, Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic Unissued midnight Cootie Williams, John Lewis (p) Sweden Thelonious Monk Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

I'll remember Gene de Paul Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 11/04/60 Atlantic LP1386 April (music) Patricia John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Johnston (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) Don Raye (lyrics) Connie Kay (d)

295 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

I should care Axel Stordahl, Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Paul Weston, John Lewis (p) Sweden Sammy Cahn Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

La ronde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

I remember Benny Golson Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Clifford John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Festival sketch John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Midsömmer John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Odds against John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued tomorrow John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The cylinder Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pyramid Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

It don't mean a Duke Ellington Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued thing John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

296 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Skating in John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Central Park John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The little John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Gothenburg, 12/04/60 Atlantic Unissued comedy John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Bluesology Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

I should care Axel Stordahl, Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Paul Weston, John Lewis (p) Sweden Sammy Cahn Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

La ronde John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

I remember Benny Golson Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Clifford John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Festival sketch John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Midsömmer John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic LP1385 John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Odds against John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued tomorrow John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The cylinder Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

297 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Pyramid Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

It don't mean a Duke Ellington Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic LP1386 thing John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Skating in John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued Central Park John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The little John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic Unissued comedy John Lewis (p) Sweden Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Round Bernie Hanigen, Milt Jackson (vib) Stockholm, 13/04/60 Atlantic LP1386 Midnight Cootie Williams, John Lewis (p) Sweden SD 2-603 Thelonious Monk Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

The little John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] comedy: La John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released cantarice, Percy Heath (b) 1995) Harelquin, Connie Kay (d) Fontessa

Round Bernie Hanigen, Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] midnight Cootie Williams, John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Thelonious Monk Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

The cylinder Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Bag's groove Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Odds against John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] tomorrow John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

It don't mean a Duke Ellington Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] thing John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

A social call John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

298 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Django John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

I should care Axel Stordahl, Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] Paul Weston, John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Sammy Cahn Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

How high the Morgan Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] moon (music)/Nancy John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Hamilton (lyrics) Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

(Medley:) John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] Colombine, John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Pulcinella Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Spanish steps John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] [Plazza di John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Spagna *] Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Pyramid [Blues Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] for junior] John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Milt meets Sid John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] [One never John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released knows] Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

I remember Benny Golson Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] Clifford John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Vendome John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

Skating in John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) Ljubljana, 27/05/60 Atlantic 82763-2 [CD] Central Park John Lewis (p) Slovenia (released Percy Heath (b) 1995) Connie Kay (d)

England's carol Traditional Milt Jackson (vib) Stuttgart, 3/06/60 Atlantic LP 1359 [God rest ye John Lewis (p) Germany SD 2-301 merry Percy Heath (b) gentlemen] Connie Kay (d) with large symphony orchestra, Gunther Schuller (cond)

299 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Divertimento Werner Heider Milt Jackson (vib) Stuttgart, 3/06/60 Atlantic LP 1359 John Lewis (p) Germany SD 1359 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) with large symphony orchestra, Werner Heider (cond)

Around the Andre Hodeir Milt Jackson (vib) Stuttgart, 4/06/60 Atlantic LP1359 blues John Lewis (p) Germany SD1359 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) with large symphony orchestra, Gunther Schuller (cond)

Concertino for Gunther Schuller Milt Jackson (vib) Stuttgart, 4/06/60 Atlantic LP1359 Jazz Quartet & John Lewis (p) Germany SD1359 Orchestra 1st Percy Heath (b) Movement Connie Kay (d) with large symphony orchestra, Gunther Schuller (cond)

Concertino for Gunther Schuller Milt Jackson (vib) Stuttgart, 4/06/60 Atlantic LP1359 Jazz Quartet & John Lewis (p) Germany SD1359 Orchestra 3rd Percy Heath (b) Movement Connie Kay (d) with large symphony orchestra, Gunther Schuller (cond)

Concertino for Gunther Schuller Milt Jackson (vib) Stuttgart, 4/06/60 Atlantic LP1359 Jazz Quartet & John Lewis (p) Germany SD1359 Orchestra 2nd Percy Heath (b) Movement - Connie Kay (d) Passacaglia with large symphony orchestra, Gunther Schuller (cond)

Belkis John Lewis Unkown New York 7/07/60 Atlantic Unissued

I didn't know Richard Rodgers Unkown New York 7/07/60 Atlantic Unissued what time it (music)/Lorenz was Hart (lyrics)

Pyramid Ray Brown Milt Jackson (vib) New York 21/07/60 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Ralph's new Milt Jackson Milt Jackson (vib) New York 21/07/60 Atlantic Unissued blues John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

300 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

My heart stood Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) New York 29/07/60 Atlantic Unissued still (music)/Lorenz Jim Hall (g) Hart (lyrics) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

I remember Benny Golson John Lewis (p) New York 29/07/60 Atlantic LP1375 Clifford Jim Hall (g) 90979-1 George Duvivier 90979-2 [CD] (b) Connie Kay (d)

Two degrees John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 29/07/60 Atlantic LP1375 east, threee Jim Hall (g) 90979-1 degrees west George Duvivier 90979-2 [CD] (b) Connie Kay (d)

I should care Axel Stordahl, John Lewis (p) New York 29/07/60 Atlantic LP1375 Paul Weston, Jim Hall (g) 90979-1 Sammy Cahn George Duvivier 90979-2 [CD] (b) Connie Kay (d)

I'll remember Gene de Paul John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 28/09/60 Atlantic Unissued April (music)/Patricia Jim Hall (g) Johnston (lyrics)/ Red Mitchell (b) Don Raye (lyrics) Connie Kay (d)

My heart stood Richard Rodgers John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 28/09/60 Atlantic Unissued still (music)/Lorenz Jim Hall (g) Hart (lyrics) Red Mitchell (b) Connie Kay (d)

April in Paris Vernon Duke John Lewis (p) Los Angeles 28/09/60 Atlantic Unissued (music)/E.Y. Jim Hall (g) Harburg (lyrics) Red Mitchell (b) Connie Kay (d)

La cantatrice John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 20/10/60 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD1390 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d) + Diahann Carroll (vcl)

Untitled Unknown Ray Nance (tp) New York 23/11/60 Atlantic Unissued original Paul Gonsalves (ts) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Sidewalks of James Blake, Ray Nance (tp) New York 23/11/60 Atlantic Unissued New York Charles Lawlor Paul Gonsalves (ts) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

301 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Blue Room Richard Rodgers Ray Nance (tp) New York 23/11/60 Atlantic Unissued (music)/ Paul Gonsalves Lorenz Hart (ts) (lyrics) John Lewis (p) George Duvivier (b) Connie Kay (d)

Abstraction Gunther Schuller Ornette Coleman New York 19/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 (as) Jim Hall (g) AMCY-1093 Scott La Faro, [CD] Alvin Brehm (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian, Joseph Tekula (cello)

Piece for guitar Jim Hall Jim Hall (g) Scott New York 19/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 and strings La Faro (b) Alfred AMCY-1093 Brown (viola) + [CD] The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian, Joseph Tekula (cello)

Variants on a Gunther Schuller Eric Dolphy, New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 theme of John Robert Di AMCY-1093 Lewis [Django] Domenica (fl) [CD] Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

302 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Variant I Gunther Schuller Eric Dolphy, New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 Robert Di AMCY-1093 Domenica (fl) [CD] Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

Variant II Gunther Schuller Eric Dolphy, New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 Robert Di AMCY-1093 Domenica (fl) [CD] Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

Variant III Gunther Schuller Eric Dolphy, New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 Robert Di AMCY-1093 Domenica (fl) [CD] Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

303 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Variants on a Gunther Schuller Ornette Coleman New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 theme of (as) Eric Dolphy AMCY-1093 Thelonius (as,fl,b-cl) Robert [CD] Monk [Criss Di Domenica (fl) Cross] Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

Variant I Gunther Schuller Ornette Coleman New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 (as) Eric Dolphy AMCY-1093 (as,fl,b-cl) Robert [CD] Di Domenica (fl) Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

Variant II Gunther Schuller Ornette Coleman New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 (as) Eric Dolphy AMCY-1093 (as,fl,b-cl) Robert [CD] Di Domenica (fl) Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

304 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Variant III Gunther Schuller Ornette Coleman New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 (as) Eric Dolphy AMCY-1093 (as,fl,b-cl) Robert [CD] Di Domenica (fl) Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

Variant IV Gunther Schuller Ornette Coleman New York 20/12/60 Atlantic LP1365 (as) Eric Dolphy AMCY-1093 (as,fl,b-cl) Robert [CD] Di Domenica (fl) Eddie Costa (vib) Bill Evans (p) Jim Hall (g) Goerge Duvivier, Scott La Faro (b) Sticks Evans (d) + The Contemporary String Quartet: Charles Libove, Roland Vamos (vln) Harry Zaratzian (viola) Jospeh Tekula (cello)

Original sin - John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic Unissued Overture with large band incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 2: John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic Unissued Recognition of with large band animals incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 2: John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 Recognition of with large band SD1370 animals - incl. woodwinds, Overture brass, strings and rhythm

Variant I: John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 Zebra, Lion, with large band SD1370 Camel incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Variant II: John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 Walrus, Ape with large band SD1370 incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

305 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Variant IV John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic Unissued with large band incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Variant III John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 27/03/61 Atlantic Unissued with large band incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 2 – Variant John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 28/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 V: Mountain with large band SD1370 sheep, deer incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Finale John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 28/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 with large band SD1370 incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 6 - John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 28/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 Expulsion from with large band SD1370 the Garden of incl. woodwinds, Eden brass, strings and rhythm

Part 5 - John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 28/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 Teaching and with large band SD1370 temptation incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Thunder music John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic Unissued with large band incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 3 – Birth John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 of Eve with large band SD1370 incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 4 – Adam John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 and Eve – pas with large band SD1370 de deux incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 2 – Variant John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 IV: Rabbit, with large band SD1370 skunk, fox incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 1 – John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 Creation of the with large band SD1370 world and incl. woodwinds, creation of brass, strings and Adam rhythm

306 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Part 5 – Tree John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic Unissued rising with large band incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Part 2 – Variant John Lewis John Lewis (p) New York 31/03/61 Atlantic LP1370 III: Lamb, with large band SD1370 leopard incl. woodwinds, brass, strings and rhythm

Spanish steps John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/08/61 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Colombine John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/08/61 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pulcinella John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/08/61 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pierrot John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/08/61 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Harlequin John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/08/61 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pt. 1: In A John Lewis Bobby Jaspar (ts, Turin, Italy 17/01/62 Atlantic LP1388 Crowd fl) Giulio SD1388 Franzetti, Enzo Porta (vln) Tito Riccardi (vla) Alfredo Riccardi (vlc) John Lewis (p) Rene Thomas (g) Josef Paradi, Giovanni Tommaso (b) Buster Smith (d)

307 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Pt. 2: Valeria John Lewis John Lewis (p) Turin, Italy 17/01/62 Atlantic LP1388 Rene Thomas (g) SD1388 Josef Paradi, Giovanni Tommaso (b) Buster Smith (d)

Pt. 3: Winter John Lewis John Lewis (p) Turin, Italy 17/01/62 Atlantic LP1388 Tale Rene Thomas (g) SD1388 Josef Paradi, Giovanni Tommaso (b) Buster Smith (d)

Pt. 4: Monday John Lewis John Lewis (p) Turin, Italy 17/01/62 Atlantic LP1388 in Milan Rene Thomas (g) SD1388 Josef Paradi, Giovanni Tommaso (b) Buster Smith (d)

Pt. 5: Finale John Lewis Bobby Jaspar (ts, Turin, Italy 17/01/62 Atlantic LP1388 fl) Giulio SD1388 Franzetti, Enzo Porta (vln) Tito Riccardi (vla) Alfredo Riccardi (vlc) John Lewis (p) Rene Thomas (g) Josef Paradi, Giovanni Tommaso (b) Buster Smith (d)

Danielle in the John Lewis John Lewis (p) Turin, Italy 17/01/62 Atlantic LP1388 Lion's Den Rene Thomas (g) SD1388 Josef Paradi, Giovanni Tommaso (b) Buster Smith (d)

Spanish steps John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/01/62 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD 2-301 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Colombine John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/01/62 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD1390 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pulcinella John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 22/01/62 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD1390 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Pierrot John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/01/62 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD1390 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

308 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Harlequin John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 23/01/62 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD1390 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Piazza Navona John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 24/01/62 Atlantic LP1390 John Lewis (p) SD1390 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Trieste John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 24/01/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Lonely woman Ornette Coleman Milt Jackson (vib) New York 25/01/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

New York 19 John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/01/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Animal dance John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/01/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Why are you Gary McFarland Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/01/62 Atlantic Unissued blue? John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Belkis John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 29/01/62 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Animal dance John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 2/02/62 Atlantic Unissued John Lewis (p) Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Lamb, leopard John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 2/02/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Fugato John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 2/02/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Why are you Gary McFarland Milt Jackson (vib) New York 2/02/62 Atlantic LP1381 blue? John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

309 Appendix (f) – Continued

Work Title Composer Personnel Recording Recording Label Issued Location Date

Belkis John Lewis Milt Jackson (vib) New York 2/02/62 Atlantic LP1381 John Lewis (p) SD1381 Percy Heath (b) Connie Kay (d)

Lonely woman Ornette Coleman Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

Slater's theme John Lewis Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

Winter tale John Lewis Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

Django John Lewis Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

If I were Eve John Lewis Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

Valeria John Lewis Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

New York 19 John Lewis Svend Asmussen Stockholm, 2 & 3/7/62 Atlantic LP1392 (vln) Sweden 90533-2 [CD] John Lewis (p) Jimmy Woode (b) Sture Kallin (d)

310