Ogren - Jazz-1 - The Jazz Revolutiqn ‘ Twenties America '...

Info iconThis preview shows pages 1–17. Sign up to view the full content.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
Background image of page 1

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 2
Background image of page 3

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 4
Background image of page 5

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 6
Background image of page 7

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 8
Background image of page 9

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 10
Background image of page 11

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 12
Background image of page 13

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 14
Background image of page 15

Info iconThis preview has intentionally blurred sections. Sign up to view the full version.

View Full DocumentRight Arrow Icon
Background image of page 16
Background image of page 17
This is the end of the preview. Sign up to access the rest of the document.

Unformatted text preview: The Jazz Revolutiqn ‘ Twenties America ' €99 the Meaning of jazz ‘ E E E K athy _] . Ogren [93? OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS New York Oxford 86 Twenties America and the Meaning of ] azz lavish or modest-mall provided a clear contrast to the streets outside. While small tables around the dance and revue floors removed important barriers to performer-audience interactions, rent and other private parties offered the most informal perfor- mance settings. Both environments clearly helped perpetuate the participatory qualities ofjazz, at least among blacks, if not whites. For whites, the participatory tradition behind jazz posed a challenge, Either it was something exotic and new, to be experi- enced to the extent possible, or it was-in the minds of its enemiesw-a threat to conventional morality. At the same time new settings for jazz took hold in northern cities after World War I, and electrical and mechanical reproduc— tion of music also appeared—with further implications for the performance ofjazz and for the ways in which Americans under— stood such performances. 3 / Dance—Tested Records and Syncopep for the Millions Although the roots of jazz were in live performance, technologi— cal developments after £900 made it possible to preserve and transmit black music to audiences far removed from the per- former. Player pianos, phonograph recordings, radio, and film brought the sound and sight ofjazz musicians to their audiences of millions of Americans. As with the new physical settings for jazz performances—wclubs, cabarets, and ballrooms—these media enlarged the audience for jazz, reshaped audience—performer; interactions. and provided more fuel for the controversy sur- rounding black music. Each new medium relied on standardized formats which deter— mined which performers received recording opportunities and which improvisations were preserved. Aspiring musicians increas- ingly learned jazz from this pre—selected sample of recordings rather than primarily from live performances as their predeces~ sors had done._]azz historians and critits agree that asjazz reached a larger audience, the tempos slowed down and larger jazz orches— tras replaced the smaller bands and combos, making the music more standardized and palatable to middle-class white tastes. Mk? certain black dances and “bawdy” blues, vernacular jazz music was—k “cleaned up" as it was marketed to a mass audience.1 The more lively and improvisational jazz performances re— 87 88 Twenties America and the Meaning of J azz maimed segregated in black communities—known primarily to black audiences. This was as true for phonograph recordings and radio as it was for live performances. “Race records” were ‘ produced for black consumers and seldom reached white listen- $ers One study maintains that the jazz controversy waned pre- cisely because commercial formulas and musically conservative. white tastes dominated jazz performance by the 19305—costing jazz its vitality? . While it is certainly true that the increased popularity of jazz sometimes came at the expense of its most innovative character— istics, records and radio broadcasts both exposed millions of Americans to a new music, and preserved some examples of the participatory styles fundamental to cabaret dancing and live performances. Phonograph records, for instance, conveyed the ' uni ue rh thms and tonalities of 'azz more effectivel than sheet music or piano rolls—~b ‘ ed _hp- nograph records in disseminating p0 ular music. As we shall see, even a radio broadcast from the Cotton Club shared live performance with thousands of listeners who would never see the inside of a cabaret—at least until Duke Ellington was fea~ , tured in Black and Tan (1930). Radio audiences could hear some of the interaction between performers and audiences, even though they could not participate directly. All instruments and media that reproduced musical entertain— ment between 1900 and 1920 boasted of their ability to replicate live musical performance ' ere the first mechanical de- vices for music-making marketed successfully in the new cen- tury. The Aeolian Company introduced the pianola in 1898, and by 1904 “there were more than forty different kinds of auto— matic piano on the American market.” Pianolas retained their popularity for two decades, and it probably peaked in 1925 when half of all pianos produced were “automatic.”El Pianolas promised a variety of benefits to consumers. One ad boasted PERFECTION WITHOUT PRACTICE. Another claimed the pianola to be superior to traditional pianos that re— quired human skill and training: “How many thousands of Ii! DancewTested Records 89 American parlors contain that shining monument to a past girlhood—~21 silent piano. Do you wish to enjoy your piano? This can be accomplished by owning a Cecilian Piano Player." This advertisement offered an opportunity for Americans to break with the social custom of buying a piano as a sign of feminine gentility. Other advertisements depicted men playing the pi- anolas and promised, “you can talk while it plays or play if the talk ends." The player-piano was as much an entertaining amuse- ment as a musical instrument.‘ Pianola manufacturers, nonetheless, praised the ability of ma~ chines to overcome standardized or mediocre sound reproduc- tion. Duo—Art, Ampico, and Aeolian all hired accomplished musiu cians and concert performers to record the nuances of their personal style on the rolls. The most sophisticated pianos “repro- duced not only the notes but also the tempo, rhythm, dynamic changes, phrasing, and pedaling of the recording artist.”5 Con- sumers could purchase—in theory—perfection and virtuosity. Many pianists, including Scott joplin, james P. johnson, and Cow-Cow Davenport made piano rolls and introduced the black musical idiom to new listeners. Davenport said he sold piano rolls featuring his “Cow~Cow Blues” doormt I-d'oor'for the Cincin- natinbased Vocal Style piano roll company Pianolas remained popular into the twenties, when they were supplanted by the phonograph and radio.6 The earliest commercial recordings were marketed in the 18905—at the same time as pianolas. The many technical limita- tions on early recordings may have made player~pianos a more attractive entertainment alternative.'Early cylinder recordings were only two minutes in length, could not capture the full tonal spectrum, and could not be mass produced. Each cylinder was individually recorded. According to jazz historian Neil Leonard, these records featured music that “was often scarcely discernible from the surface scratch, squeaks, and snorts that came out of the horn."7 With improvements in sound reproduction and invention of the disk—shaped record, sales boomed. By 1921, 100 million red) ords were produced, which represented a “fourfold increase 90 Twenties America and the Meaning ofjazz over 1914.” Leonard notes that in the same year, 1914, Ameri— cans “spent more money for [records] than for any other form of recreation.” The popularity of recordings and the taste forjazz grew simultaneously.8 From the beginning, phonograph records featured a variety ofmusmal styles, including classical, theatrical performances, and opera. But it was popular music genres that keptsales high. Ameri— cans especially liked songs, ballads, ragtime, and marching bands. The dance music that sent patrons into cabarets and night clubs to “shake that thing,” also sent customers into record stores. While it is difficult to assess the availability of phonographs to Americans with modest incomes, the advertising for phono- graphs reached out for both middle— and working-class consum- gi‘ers. M‘cClure’s, Cosmopolitan, and illumey magazines, as well as mall-order catalogs directed their wares to a variety of buyers. Cylinder phonographs like the Edison Home Phonograph were available for modest homes and “flourished in small towns and rural areas." More affluent Americans were encouraged to buy elaborate machines that represented an investment in fine furni- ture. The phonograph became “encased with an eye to decora— tiveness and fittingness in the room scheme,” and a “product” of “recognized cabinet-makers."g Those Americans who did not buy their own phonographs VD listened to phonograph recordings in bars, dance halls, or the homes of friends. Records provided a basis for shared musical experlences and thereby permitted the continuation of some communal entertainment traditions. Rent arties, for exam le 1 used honographs when l' erfor ers were not available. In the rural South, Harrison Barnes, who later played in New Or- leans street bands, recalled that people on the Magnolia f’lanta- tlon congregated at a common phonograph. When the record salesman brought “six or seven records” for them to hear, he would play them at a house and charge ten cents admission. Barnes heard novelty songs and sermons but very little blues or jazmon these early disks. Black music appeared on these early 7F‘recordings through crude “coon songs” frequently performed by whites.” Dance-Tested Records 91 Tunes like George W. johnson’s “The Whistling Coon” and other ethnic records were aimed at immigrant groups and there is not much evidence that blacks bought these records. It is more likely that whites did—just as white audiences had provided the main audience support for minstrelsy. In the 19205, however, “race records” succeeded “Negro novelty" songs when record companies discovered a new urban black market. epresented a victory for those black musicians who had tried to break into the recording industry. Blues corn— poser Perry Bradford persuaded Fred Hager of General Phono— graph’s OKeh label to experiment with a new black vocal offe'r‘ ing. "1 tramped the pavements of Broadway with the belief that the country was waiting for the sound of the voice of a Negro singing the blues with a Negrojazz combination playing,” Brad- ford recalled. “For our folks had a story to tell and it could only be in vocalwnot instrumental——-recordings.”H A white studio orchestra backed Mamie Smith on her first recording, “That Thing Called Love" and “You Can’t Keep a Good Man Down." But Smith was invited back, and her second recording, “Crazy Blues” and “It’s Right Here for You," featured a black band selected by Bradford. “Crazy Blues” made recording history and sold at a phenomenal rate. In Harlem, 75,000 copies sold in one week. In addition to blues, race records featured sermons, min- strel songs, spirituals and gospel tunes, popular songs, and some earlyjazz.12 All other major record companies followed OKeh's lead and began recording the classic blues singers: Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, Ida Cox, Clara Smith, Bertha “Chippie” Hill, Sippie Wail->5?! lace, Lucille Hegamin, Rosa Henderson, and Victoria Spivey. Classic blues recordings helped pull record companies out of the early twenties slump produced by radio competition. The rela» tive lack of blues material on radio broadcasts helped keep re- cordings popular. Black consumers bought at least five or six million records a year, according to folklorists Howard Odum and Guy B. Johnson, who studied the phenomenon in 1925. Their estimate is low because they drew their data from only three record companies.” 92 Twenties America and the Meaning ofjazz Many contemporary accounts attest to the popularity of race records in black communities. Pianist Clarence Williams owned a record story on Chicago’s South Side and recalled how the blues records' popularity made them instant sellers: “Colored people would form a line twice around the block when the latest record _ . of Bessie or Ma or Clara or Mamie came in. . . . Sometimes these records they was bootlegged, sold in the alley for four or five dollars apiece.” Similarly, Reb Spikes said that the fifty to a hun- dred blues records he stocked in his Los Angeles store would be "gone in an hour.” Spikes posted signs like “Bessie Smith's new record in” and within two or three hours people would be “stand- ing in line half a block waiting to get a record." Blues records were purchased in great numbers, even ifit meant a sacrifice for low income families. H OKeh executive Ralph 8. Peer chose the designation “race record” because it reminded him of other music marketed on the basis of European or ethnic nationalities. For whites, the term “race record" may have reflected the segregationist assump- tionthat black music was distinct from and inferior to popular musrc generally. By contrast, black customers, influenced by calls for race pride in the 19205, probably found the term attractive. Collier points out that race records were segregated into sepa— Q rate catalogs for blacks and whites only by some manufacturers, and‘he-believes that "race" listings issued by the recording com- panies were produced for the “convenience of record stores that catered to blacks." As we shall see shortly, the appeal to race - 7 ‘ ride was also an important aspect of marketing strategies stress- ing “authenticity?” Certainly, they were already familiar with at least some bl songs and performers who had toured the North and So The popularity of blues prompted many live entertainers t clude blues materials in their work. Publishers and record com a— ntes released hundreds of new titles. One even published a bdbk probably aimed at whites entitled How to Play and Sing the Blues Lake the P/zonograph and S tags Artists. Pianist Porter Granger and arranger Bob Ricketts advised would~he performers that: ues lid]. 0 in— Dtmce-Tested Records 93 If one can temporarily play the role of the oppressed or the de- pressed, injecting into his or her rendition a spirit of hopeful prayer, the effect will be more natural and successful. “Blues” are more naturally blue when the melodic movements are treated with minor chords. Though the chords of the diatonic major scale may be employed, the result is not nearly so efficacious as when the minor motive is present. . .. It-is possible to properly produce "Blues" effects on any instrument, although the wailings, moan— ings, and croonings, it can be understood, are more easily pro- duced on instruments like the saxophone, trombone, or violin. “Blues” are sung or played most effectively in crooning or subdued style. Without the necessary moan. croon or slur, no blues number is properly sung. This volume also included a set of“breaks” to be used to end a per— formance, with names like: “the Harmony Break, the jazz Blues Break, the Comedy Blues Break, the Minor Blues Break . . . the Levee Blues Break, Cabaret Blues Break, the Barrel House Blues Break," and more. These publications assumed a novice performer could learn the blues without ever witnessing a live performance, and that improvisation itself could be codified.16 Race records were not the only, or even the earliest, source of jazz performances on record. The first instrumental recordings}? specifically labeled jazz were produced in 1917, thus predating race records.”7 Nick LaRocca and the Original Dixieland jazz Band recorded the earliest popularjazz hits. This group of white musicians was from New Orleans originally, and, like otherjazz musicians before them, the ODjB had traveled to Chicago in 1916 before playing in New York. ODjB member Eddie Edwards described several attempts to record successfully. He wrote that the first offer came from Co— lumbia in 1917. At that date, "No one knew what we were trying to do, and the date was sabotaged. They were building shelves in the studio and kept hammering away while we tried to play. Also in the middle of cutting a side people kept running in and out, causing all kinds of confusion. . . ." Eventually the band was suc— cessful and the public associated the ODjB music withjazz. Actu— 94 Twenties America and the Meaning of jazz ally, their recordings were based on standard rags and blues compositions. The ODjB version of “Tiger Rag," for example, originated as a quadrille and then passed into the basic reper- toire ofmany Storyville musicians}7 The ODJB was a smash hit in New York where their white audiences found the new “jass” a novel entertainment experi— ence, and their first release (“Livery Stables Blues" and “Original Dixieland One«Step”) featured many novelty effects that re- sulted, in part, from the recording process. Edwards explained how the recording was made: In those days you blew into a four-foot born with an eight-«inch bell on the end. The horn led to the receiving wax. You couldn't play tests back, and We cut three masters of each tune to make sure that one would be good. With this horn you couldn’t use a bass drum, which vibrated too much, or a snare drum, which came out blurred. Tony Spargo had to beat only on the cow bells, wood biocks, and sides of the drums. As a resuit, a great many drummers were influ— enced who heard only the record and didn't realize that the bass and snares were integral parts of Dixieland drumming. ‘ Their first record sold' one million copies and its success forecast future trends in commercialjazz dominated by white bands and musicians. Some performers perfected “nut jazz" in which they “consciously distorted blues notes so that they lost their positive meaning in grossly exaggerated groans, growls, moans and laughs." Others followed the opposite strategy and “diluted” or “refined‘jazz by tie-emphasizing blue notes. In these processes, much of the spontaneity in blackjazz was lost in the developing mass market, which marginalized the many black and some white musicians who remained wedded to participatory and im- provisationaljazz performance.18 The opportunity. seized by the ODJB caused some contro- versy among musicians. Apparently black New Orleans band— leader Freddie Keppard turned down a recording offer from Victor in 1916, which fueled speculation about his motives. He told his bandsmen: “Nothin’ doin‘ boys. We won‘t put our stuff on records for everybody to steal." Sidney Bechet placed Kep- FI- Dance-Tested Records i 95 pard's reluctance to record in the context of older performance traditions: Freddie really understood music; he had a feeling for it. He wouldn’t give away any part of the music, and he wouldn't stand for its being played wrong. Freddie, he was a read musicianer. And he had a feeling about that recording thing; he had a feeling that every Tom, Dick or Harry who could ever blow a note would be making records soon. It would get so the music wasn’t where it belonged. It was going to be taken away. With the benefit of hindsight, Bechet believed Keppard’s fears had been realized. Other musicians simply tried to retain as much control over the recording process as possible. Willie “the Lion” Smith wrote, “It has always been my opinion that the only way to do oneself any good with records is to make discs of your own composition with a band under your name."19 Unlike Keppard, most blackjazz bands offered the chance to record did not refuse. law one of the most important in the decade, recorded about forty sides in 1923. jazz historian James Lincoln Coilier explains the seminal influence of these records onlater jazz: “No longer did musi— cians outside of New Orleans have to follow the lead of the Original Dixieland jazz Band, or the pseudojazz put out by popular dance bands. The real thing was at last available in quantity for study, and the impact on musicians was immense." The “real thing" according to contemporary jazz critic Martin Williams sounded “at once spontaneous and deliberate, passion— ate and controlled, controlled in ways that make its passions all the more convincing.” Oliver, Louis Armstrong, and other per, formers had finally brought the best of the participatory jazz tradition to recorded music.20 Hundreds of other musicians recorded in the 19205, and many of them were associated with the blues craze. Kid Ory, who recorded with Louis Armstrong, explained that musicians were surprised at the recognition produced by recorded jazz: We made our first records in Chicago at the OKeh studios, and of course, when we made them we didn’t have an expectation that they 96 Twenties America and the Meaning ofjazz would be as successful as they became. . . . Times were good and people had money to buy records. One thing that helped the sale was that for a while the OKeh people gave away a picture of Louis to everyone that bought one of the records. When they did that, the sales went way up, because Louis was so popular . . . Recording supplemented live performances, and its first stages, as Ory indicated, drew upon established talents. Louis Arm- strong’s prolific recordings in the 19205 convinced OKeh execu- tives he Would be a “consistent producer."21 The process of makingjazz recordings was haphazard in the _ teens and twenties. In the acoustic recording process, musicians played into a recording horn that forced a diaphragm to vibrate. ': Then the diaphragm caused the stylus to cut into a cylinder or ’ wax disk. Cylinders could only be duplicated by repeating the performance, whereas was disks were more easiiy copied. Bass player George “Pops” Foster gave a fairly typical description of how this process worked from a performer’s point of view: When we used to make records in St. Louis, they’d hire a loft in one of the downtown store buildings. The band would practice without the bass and drums. We’d sit over to one side having some fun until they Were ready for us. Then we'd piay with the rest of the band and cut the records. They had big megaphones going into the wall. We'd stand up to the megaphone and play. The “tax was cut on the other side of the wail. if you cut a hog you had to start all over and cut the wax again. Wingy Manone remembered standin correct musical balance in the me of a number of experiments th vibration.22 Manone explained that a band’s performance what unpredictable in the recording studio. In El described above, Manone said th was almost driven “crazy” because g on top of boxes to get the gaphones, but that wasjust one at might be tried to minimize could be some 1e same session at producer Tommy Rockwell Manone's band, unable to read, performed differently on each take of the record. Lawrence Brown reported that when he recorded with Duke Ellington, "All Eilington would do was strike out the first few bars or so. Some Dance-Tested Records 9 7 progressions and we’d know what that number was. . . . There: were sort of skeleton arrangements. The solos weren’t written. In addition, Brown wouldn’t necessarily know the name of the piece because it might be named by the lyricist later. Various kinds ofimprovisation might take place in the recording studio.23 One of the best-known accounts of a recording studio blooper that made music history was Louis Armstrong’s claim that he introduced scat singing on records after he had dropped the mu- sic for “Heebiejeebies” and “there wasn’t any use in spodm’thrs master, 5'0 Ijust went in there and started scattin’ and they kep. it. It is certainiy piausible that the primitive recording conditions made it possible, for a certain degree of improvisation remained in many recording sessions thenmboth by accident and tie-Sign. In other cases, such as some early Ellington recordings, pieces were put together in the studio}?! I In the eariy days, recording companies did not have aspecxfic group of musicians hired to provide orchestration. Louis Arm- strong's famous “Hot Fives” records were produced because OKehjust “happened to have its portable recording equipment in Chicago at the “time when Armstrong could get together a group of musicians.”95 Particular composers or band leaders hired whomever they felt was appropriate and available for re— cording dates. Charlie Gaines remembered that Ciarence Williams, for ex- ample, “never engaged a man for specific dates.” Instead, lNii— liarns “had a stable of musicians on a weekly payroll. You might be called for several dates every day of maybe none for a week, but you received a standard sum of about-eighty—five dollars each week.” Williams would only pay the musmians on a particu— lar day, so those who were out of toWn had to wait for their next paycheck. Gaines admitted the system could create a “lack of interest in the work you recorded.”26 The arrangement de- scribed by Gaines made it possible to add recording work to other performance opportunities. I Composers like Williams published sheet musu: for the most successful hits. Wiiiiams like Perry Bradford and other black middle men, helped blacks break into the white-dominated mu- 98 Twenties America and the Meaning of j azz 51c busmess. Williams’s organization of studio bands helped sev— eral musICIans get recorded, and music Store owners and com ers also hired performers. The Spiltes Brothers hired Kid 0 record with the “Spikes Seven Pods of Pepper Orchestra” Angeles in “921.27 The perfection of electronic techni ues in 1924 brought sev— eral important changes to the recording industry simultaneously with the rise ofjazz and blues to popularity. Electrical recording made it possible to extend frequency ran e bmty ommlai awn Wm H_\ . play into recording ed, at least roughly, posw ry to in Los musicians did not have to play so l oudly and could moderate tone better. Conditions were still elementary when compared with em sound studio. Recording executive Frank Walker r bered an electrical recording session built an enormous tent in ti a mod« emem» at Columbia in 1926: “We to studio on the theory that the coni- cal shape would keep the sound in. There was only one light hanging from the ceiling from a long cord." Walker, Bessie Smith, Fletcher Henderson, and Don Redman w fl1n a wide “scramble” after a wire broke and the Many musicians have described the problems that ensued from musicians' stomping their foot to keep time. Eddie Barefield remembered one session withjimmy Lunceford's band in which a pillow was placed under Willie “the Lion“ Smith's foot so he wouldn’tjar the microphone. Kid Ory had to do the same thing to Dink johnson’s foot in an early recording. Given these condi- tions, It 15 not surprising that even the improved jazz recordings could deliver erratic quality.2B Despite the inadequacies of reproduction in e and phonograph publicity promised to spread ere all trapped ariy disks, rec— authentic per- Smith demon- 0 rd f'ormance. A Defender advertisement for Mamie strated this pitch: Dance-Tested Records 99 {T TAKES A BLUES TO CATCH A BLUESE Mamie Smith is sweeping the country with her infectious fluency of humor. She and her Jazz Hounds have a magnificence of color and pulsing rhythm in their music that stirs the senses with its weirdness. They are the greatestjazz attraction. MEM'RIES OF YOU MAMMY is a planta— tion song with a southern swinging melody. It is especially well treated by an interlude of recitation by Marnie. The realism of her speaking voice is startling because it is absolutely without affecta— tion. To humor the thousands of requests for personal appearances she is now on a concert tour of the country IF YOU DON‘T WANT ME BLUES is pure BLUES! To hear is to Buy!29 The ad captured the emergence of jazz from blues and other black music idioms, and promised a little of everything: jazz, plantation melodies, novelty (or weirdness), and most important, realistic performance. Much as in this advertisement from the Defender, claims to authenticity were made for the mechanical and electrical repro-‘K duction of music in the teens and twenties. For example, the concert performers who recorded piano rolls played at special transcription machines that recorded nuances of phrasing and rhythm. Victor and Columbia cashed in on the dance craze by using photographs and testimonials from dance professionals to verify that the music was danceable. one Columbia advertise- ment guaranteed performance verisimilitude because the record was pressed “under the personal direction of the greatest author— ity in this country. on modern dancing—~G. Hepburn Wilson, M.B., who dances while the band makes the record.” As one industry historian has pointed out, “Columbia assured prospective cus— tomers that each and every recording would be in authentic dance tempo, and expensive double-track advertisements were taken in the Saturday Evening Post to spread the word about Columbia’s dance-tested records.”30 Race records based their appeal to authenticity on a variety of _ qualities, including musical characteristics, performer reputa-<L~J tion, the race of performers, and even the race of company employees and owners. "When you listen to Vocalion Dance Records," one dance ad proclaimed, “you just can't sit still. Vo- 100 Twenties America and the Meaning ofjazz calion band leaders—~King Oliver—Fletcher Henderson—jimm hetrand—Elgan—Duke Ellington and others need no introdudf trouto the Race. Their music always sparkles with life, pep and originality-«just what you want when you feel like dancing "3‘ Several short—lived black~owned record and sheet music com— panies also vied for authenticity, and newspapers like The De- fender encouraged blacks to support them. Because Pace and Handy published the sheet music for one of Mamie Smith's songs, ior example, The Defender urged its leaders to buy OKeh's recordings of the same songs: “Lovers of' music everywhere and those who desire to help in any advance of the Race should be sure to buy this record as encouragement to the manufacturers who may not believe that the Race will buy records sung by its own Singers.”32 Pace made a similar appeal to blacks to promote Its products. Pace Phonograph is the " . All stockholders are Col— . . ored. all employees are Colored.” { I Pace, incrdentally, tried to gain an advantage over its com eti- >i¢tion by' appealing to bourgeois tastes. In the same ad, gace noted: “Only company using Racial Artists in recording [ii A class song records. This company made the only Grand Opel-8a Rec~ ords ever made by Negroes. All others confine this end of th ' work to blues, rags, comedy numbers, etc.”33 In this case “rail: pride for the black middle-class meant identification with Euro pean classical music rather than with Afro-American cultural creations, Pace’s recording represented a victory for The Defender who had lobbied for “high class" black artists on records although the white audience for race records was small it is ored, all artists are Col Dance-Tested Records 101 advertising continued a pattern set by sheet music, which had promised “authentic plantation melodies."34 _ Recordings supplemented an entertainer’s career and were often promoted as part of a concert tour. Ma Rainey, recogniz~ ing the role of the phonograph in disseminating the blues, made her entrance on stage out of a victrola. Similarly, Bessie Smith used a stage set that was like a recording studio. Zutty Singleton recalled that Smith would then “explain to the audience how she made records, and sing the tunes she had recorded." Black rec— ord buyers knew many of the performers featured in the twen— ties from theatre and vaudeville. In addition, record companies took road trips in the South to find and record “downhome” or rural blues.” Recorded jazz was soon complemented by radio broadcasts of live performances. In fact, the rise of radio contributed to a serious recession in the recording business in 1922. Electronic recordings improved the industry’s outlook slightly during the rest of the decade, but after the Depression the popularity of radio pushed record sales into a deep slump; In 1932 only six million records were sold in the United States, which was “ap- proximately six percent of the total record sales in 1927." Radio rarely used recordings, and as broadcasting historian Philip K. Eberly has concluded, “Live music was the standard. Phono- . graph records bore the onus of second-rate programming and were to be used only in emergencies or for testing purposes." Listeners could hear the latest musical hits without purchasing +9 the record themselves. One estimate suggests that radio broad~ casting reached 20 percent of the public in 1923 and 30 percent by 1928.35 Of all the new media, radio provided the greatest capacity for dissemination ofjazz. Foster R. Dulles, in his 1940 study America Learns to Play, reported that music programming made up “75% of what Americans heard on the air.” Initially stations used ge— neric labels such as “sentimental,” “comic,” or “Irish” to identify programs. jazz was often included in musical variety segments of a day’s programming, but the meaning was unspecific. For many possible that claims to authenticity were aimed at these wh' conspmers. Blacks were more likely to be familiar with blues ' He e'rs like Bessie Smith, who had toured on black entertai 5mg- Circuits. Promises of music reminiscent ofminstrel tunes mnment have been aimed at white customers. OKeh, for example :lliier used the Norfolk jazz Quartet to distributors as a group po ular With white audiences: “You may be interested to know that ifisn’t EIhE colored race which is responsible for thejurnp in record sales he big demand comes from the white people." This kind oi: lso 103 102 Twenties America and the Meaning of Jazz Dancg_Tested Records audiences. Hotel-radio stations broadcast dance bands from ball— rooms and quieter combos from restaurants. Duke Ellington and k Cab Galloway performed from the stage of the Cotton Club cabaret scene. Count Basie attracted Benny Goodman's attention through broadcasts from the Reno Club in Kansas City. The Count received his nickname from a radio announcer who thought his given name Bill was too “ordinary.” The announcer added Basie to the rest of thejazz royalty.“0 Count Basie remembered hOW a certain amount of spontane- d over the air waves. His band’s theme “One Americans the term ‘jazz" referred to all popular music and might include “pseudo—jazz bands or ordinary dance orchestras usmg modish effects.”37 To some extent, it was correct to associate jazz with popular music on the airwaves. As Philip Eberly notes, “white dance or« chestras of the period often imitated black models, and in some cases the copies were excellent.” Many radio offerings accordin to him, were “jazz,” which “could mean anything from tearing off an undisciplined chorus of group improvisation to la ing down-a banjo break; it could mean the studied mannerisms:th moaning saxophone riff or a self~conscious impersonation of O’CIOCkium ”' Lows Armstrong.” There was a truth to the claim of Etude ma a— P ' zine m 1924: “Tap America anywhere in the air and nine tinge out of. ten jazz will burst forth." However far the music mi ht b: from 3312 at its roots, in the minds of its mass audience it wisjazz ity was communicate of our radio broadcasts. Back in those days, when you went on the air, you didn't have to clear songs and titles in advance as you do now. In other words, the band wouldjust go on as . u ,, . . . Unfitheless' y_ the air and play heads and anything that came to mind. One night we had about five minutes to go on a broadcast and the announcer The growth of jazz on the airwaves caused some consternation for advertisers who wanted to believe that radio was a force for asked me for the title of the closing tune. Well, itjust had no title so ‘ making public taste more sophisticated. In his studyAdW t, . t} it was up to someone to pick one out in a hurry. I glanced up at the American Dream: Mak‘ ' r Fang. w clock. It was almost one o'clock. 'just call it the One O‘Clockjump,‘ 1 Roland Marchand ddiiiibtydrdiiiiiitoifigmy, 1929—1940, hmonan - told the announcer. After that we used it for our theme and it‘s needed to -ust-f h . . . . ,g executwes Who felt they ‘ unquestionably the record most closely associated with the band.“1 i 3 I 1 y; e c1v1hzmg properties of radio. One advertis— mg 5111’“? , alme at ros " ‘ x “mid me:sure the pi: RESCUE? Cltlfnts, demonstrated thaE You 7 Radio could not communicate all the excitement of live perfor- ss 0 ' " ~ ‘ . . . relative popularit of .g d m ‘0 “911R bl? comparing the mance, but It continued to evoke at least some spontaneity and permm of those Szrve J33? arllgzsgymphonic musm: “Whereas 75 much excitement in radio audiences. e 1 ' y D had indicated 3 Difference for Some musicians learned or perfected playing styles from the . . . came out of one Jazz music and only 20 percent for symphonic music radio had so enhanced public discrimination that by 1925 the preference for symphonic music surpassed jazz by 50 percent to 10 percent " In this climate, it is not surprising that radio broadcaster Meyer Da— v15 sought to dissolve the association of jazz with popular music b gfferutig a $100 prize for another name to replace the term “jazz: ut o a ' ' i the bestsplfgggxrgaggely 70,000 entries, he selected “syncopep” as Despite the campaign of the advertising executives radio continued to carry jazz to millions of Americans. Radio ’broad casts brought a sense ofjazz locations as well as the music itself td radio broadcasts. Barney Bigard recalled the sound of Duke Ellington, and Milt Hinton remembered listening to early “crys— tal sets" to hear the dance bands broadcasting live from the Grand Terrace Ballroom in Chicago. Hinton placed the ear— phones in one of his grandmother’s cut glass bowls so that more than one person could listen at a time.42 Unfortunately, the lively jazz broadcasts that inspired a lis» tencr like Hinton to improvise a home-made set of speakers, also prompted moralist critics to regulate jazz. As the music became more widely disseminated, industry associations and community groups intensified their pressures for its regulation. The Musical 104 Twenties America and the Meaning of ] azz Publishers Protective Association was form motto “just keep the words clean and the music will take care of itself.” Similar groups formed among piano and music manufac- turers. In broadcasting and film, regulations were established to control obscenity or other “offensive” materials. The National Association of Orchestra Directors promised to monitor the kinds of performance in dance halls, nightclubs, and hotels. These private groups were succeeded by the government’s regu— latory agencies established in the 1927 Radio Act and the 1934 Federal Communications Act. The ef fect of regulation, whether ‘3: private or public, was to encourage the transmission of sanitized jazz at the expense of more live ly music (although performers still found ways—often non~verbal—to communicate some of the bawdier aspects ofjazz).43 Regulation was not the on! recording and broadcastin ed in 1921 with the y way in which the structure of g industries influenced jazz perfor- mance. The rise of large companies dominating music publish- ing, recording, and radio opened economic opportunities for musicians—«hbut only for those who conformed to standards set by the corporationsfl‘l By the end of the 19205 yet ano 3ftjoined records and radio in brin Indeed, the first “talkie” (1927). One me Meeker’sfazz in Meeker's direct featured jazz ther inedium—movies—had ging jazz to mass audiences. had the word in its title: Tfiejnzz Singer asure of the growth of jazz in film is David the 1140mm: A Guide [ejazz .Musiciam 191 7—1977. ory provides a short synopsis of all films that musicians. There were few film before the introduction of sound in 1927. The first film to show jazz dance, however, was Biograph’s 1907 silent short The Fig/its ofNotz'om. The Original Dixieland jazz Band performed in the 1917 The Goodfor Nothing 5 depicting jazz Silent films would seem particular] y limiting on black perfor« mance traditions. In Slow Fade to Block: The Negro in American Dance-Tested Records 1 05 Film 1900—1942, film historian Thomas.Cripps undersccclires this point: “Afro—Americans suffered a major disadvantage tan;- ing the three decades of silent film. So much black enter d: ment had‘a strong musical element and depended upon'au ence reaction and participation for full effect. lhe absence 10 sound restricted the black actor’s range." But, as Cripps ago noted, black audiences compensated for these shortcomings greeting-“the heroes of the screen" With “rhyth’r’nic1 shkopjs, c :2; ping, foottapping and yells of encouragement. 13 ac 1.11:1 pkg moter George P. johnson used bands and orchestras I: e A“- Spikes’s to promote opening nights at his theatres in 05 Riverside.“5 geatlsna::dition, jazz musicians provided the sound forssonliet onf these films by playing in movie—house orchestras. Zutty ding ero111 felt he had learned valuable tricks of timing and goof oviév- training by playing accompaniment and sound effects oter the ies. Audiences considered the mustcal entertainment parh ve film. For example, Mary Lou Williams remembered I; e ta 5‘ audiences for Fats 'Waller’s performances before the :oyiehL “He wasjust a sensation in New York, when they (1 turn t e 1g 1 Id _ on people would scream, when he sat down, peope wou scream: I never saw such a thing. When he finished, that was the ' ff.”45 end; they had to let 1t cool 0 . . - The jazz music in black mov1e houses did not please-every one Dave Peyton criticized the liberties taken by mu51c1ans in one of his Defender columns: During a death scene . . . you are likely to hearnthe OYCliei‘fI‘BjRZZISg away on “Clap Hands, Here Comes Charlie the rasstu I: banjo and saxophones have no business in the legitimatehpictu orchestra during the showing of a dramatic screen play. T e regi: lar legitimate orchestral line-up should be empIOyed . . . Biting :x“ chestral speciaities these instruments are all right forjazz “anl’ Ed pression, but only then. There is entirely too much hokum 'pfay ff in our Race picture houses. It only appeals to a certain r1. I-rad_ element who loudly clap hands when the orchestra stops, nus ela If ing the leader to believe that his efforts are Winning the approva o the entire audience.47 Dance-Tested Records 1 07 not shot with excellent standards like lvlurphy's.‘19 From the early days of film, movies presented elements of black culture to audiences of both races. By the end of the twen— ties, movie audiences couid hear as well as seejazz performance on the screen. The versions of performance that Hollywood cre— ated often diluted some of the energy of live acts, although a few films, notably Bessie Smith’s only appearance in St. Louis Blues . (1929), managed to get past the censor‘s editing. Movies func» entie's and thirties. Black uded the Mills Brothers, s Orchestra, Duke Elling— ' . Cripps believed the films musicians featured in these films incl Louis Armstrong, Don Redman and hi : nomic opportunities for musicians (primarily white ones rather '- than blacks), while requiring them to play acceptable and often stereotyped performances. Piano rolls, recordings, radio, and film all stimulated the spread oi‘jazz beyond the black c0mmunity and vice districts to thousands of new iisteners who accepted and often praised the music. Historian Nathan Huggins has perceptively explained the popularity of these media: “Sheet music and phonograph rec- ords could be taken into the home (though the Negro could not) to undermine the sentimentality ofconventional American popu— lar music as well as the tin-American formality of the standard ciassics." Huggins points out that as language, the music was “jazz speech—secretive—, ‘in,’ causai and fluid” that could “shat- ter the philistine with its impudence.” Unfortunately, many of those listeners who picked up what they knew about jazz and other black music from written or audile media, would not hear collective improvisation and other qualities ofjazz performance that derived from live participatory performance traditions.50 Race records, combined with the relatively small percentage of black bands recorded, tended to reinforce distinctions be- tween black and white music. The barrier was as difficult for one race to cross as the other. Clarence Williams remembered that few Chicagoans in his South Side Chicago record store asked for records by the popular white band leader Paul Whiteman, whose style was far removed from black musical traditions. Williams concluded that his patrons probably did not know who White- saloon, with. . . drill te “Namath-i. asthma—h - tloned much like radio and records, however, by providing eco% I 08 Twenties America and the Meaning of f azz Dance‘TESted Records 109 man was. (His musm may not have suited their tastes eith" ' ' ' ' ' v ' . d Ted Levis—he was Similarly, Mme customers dld “Gt have as much d Art Hickman records, and so forth An x access to la . . posed to be the hot thing. but he didn’t do anything for us marin performed 13 white b d ’ ‘ mahow' y an s and mest of It was more a“ ' . . . One day they had some new Gennett records on the table family Cl?5Fr1beC135 POPUlar mUSlC Withjazz influences. rid we put them on . . . They were by the New Orleans Rhythm Musmlans like FFEddie KePP‘drd and Sidney Bechet h lugs, and I believe the first tune played was Farewell Blue's. Boy, ’ lien we heard tliatw-vl’li tell you we were out of our minds. Every~ dy flipped. it was wonderful. So we put the others onm—Tiger Rag, ismntented, Tin RoofBlttes, Bugle Call, and such titles. We stayed there from about three in the afternoon until eight at Ight, just liStening to those records one after another, over and I ver again. Right then and there we decided we would get a band 3,, E 1 ti: th .53 gro folk-songs before the materi n W 0p 3y 1 e 656 guys vanishes forever, killed by the Victrola, the radio, the lure of gleap printed musm." As we shall see, some participants in th ' arlem Renaissance expressed similar concerns.51 eormers like those in the Austin High School Gang did not ,e the same apprenticeship experiences as an earlier genera- Fm. muSiCians how - h ‘ . _ _ of black jazz men who trained in‘the saloons—not the soda ' eve“ t e Tecmdmgs actually preserved ,p. Nonetheless, recordings made it possible for these aspir- music St rles that could ‘ ' ' i i i . i i ' record y ' be imitated. ManyJazzrnen learned from white musmans to dESCOVCI‘ Jazz and to try to imltfiEe the” lugs, espectally those With limited ac rnance. Danny Barker described “all the al local music lovers” who "waited anxiously for each of Louis Ar Strong's latest releases”; and Dicky Wells also remembered “eveinj body was trying to play something like Louis Armstrong " Mar:y musmlans heard blues records, Mose Allison said that when by was a child ‘just about every store had ajuke box” and Bud: Clayton listened to “a lot ofBessie Smith, mostly blues because in my home nearly everybody was blues crazy."joseph “(,Zie" F i learned pieces from playing along with the records.52 White bands in particular, benefited from the availability of recorded performance. jimmy McPartland of the Austin Hi b School Gang described the proceSs he experienced: g orites.“ ETEJHZZ musicians and The separation of black and white music markets, the domina— n of performing and recording opportunities by whites, and nature of the electrical media themselves mitigated against the osure of audiences, particularly white ones, to participatory riding to this problem when they promised “real blues" and ance-tested records" harking back to a variety of performance— ented musical traditions Still, the new media broughtjazz to a much wider audiencew nd one which did, after all, have some access to live perfor— ance in the cabarets and clubs in many cities. Performers kept participation alive in the midst of increasing mechanical repro— action through their active response to films and, more impor- ntly, their incorporation of records into social events as diverse 3 rent parties and college dances. And there is yet another side to the story: the popularity of 22 on phonograph recordings and on the radio, along with the razier , d a few others used to go . . It wasjust an ice cream Ike soda shakes and ll . , , . ,t a thatstuff. But they had a Victrola there, and we used to sit arou ' ' to the bunch ofrecorcls l “d Imenmg aid on the table. They were Paul Whiteman 110 Twenties America and the M gaming of I an; growth of live performance opportunities for jazz I indicated a growing general acceptance of the musi‘ come to symbolize not oniy the journey of biack mig troubIed new , but also the passage of the Iarg imo a modern era. That passage had brought jazz 0 ghettoes of black life. It would, by the early 19205, brin forefront of controversy over American vaiues in change. 0 m :3 m m :3 5% ‘ ‘ An eles. (Left to right) Ciaude ’ 1 Band, 1920, Los g _ _ hgiorfgec-Elizfir), Buster Wilson (pf), Dmk johnson (our). Ash rdee (trom), Ben Borders (d). (Dinkjohmon Coll., Wallmm Ran— jazz A rchive) 18.2 N m 183 Twenties America and the Meaning of Jazz 0 ' 46. Greer, TOHNOJC, interview 1-15-1979; Collier, Duke Ellingt 31; Wells, Reminiscences, 19. Wells said: melted away, it was so hot in there." 47. Hunter quoted in Shapiro and Hentoff, Hear Me, 87. 48. Eddie Condon and Thomas Sugrue, We Called It Music: A Gemr tion ofjazz (New York: Henry Holt, 1947), Ill. James Lincoln Coili points out that Lincoln Gardens was not a black and tan and he 58. 7 white musicians were uncomfortable at the club. See Collier, Louis Arm strong, 94. Dempsey, Autobiography of Black jazz, 65—66, describes the; importance of Lincoln Gardens to black 49. George Wettlin 50. Russel B. Nye, “Saturda Dance Hails in the Twenties,"]oumal ofP 15. New Orleans musicians described their fr Barker, A Life in jazz, 18; Foster, Pavageau. TOHNOJC, interview 12-1 terviewjuly 1976. 5]. Reckless, Vice in Chicago, 99; Buck Clayton, RIOfS, interview 1975; see also Hodes and Hansen (eds), Selectionsfrom the Gutter, 25—26. james Lincoln Collier believes the specification of bands by the dancing public helped build the careers of Duke Ellington and other “name” bands. Collier, Duke Ellington, 34. 52. Charters and Kunstadt,fazz: The New York Scene, chap. 2. 53. Armstrong quoted in Shapiro and Herxtoff, Hear Me, Ill. Coi- lier points out that "jazz had a comic tradition and Ar bent . . . ,"Louis Armstrong, 166. 54. Charters and KunstadtJazz: RIOJS, interview 1978; on working— see Peiss, Cheap Amusements, chap. 4. 55. Charters and Kunstadt, jazz: The New York Scene, 186. See also Lewis, When Harlem Was in Vogue, 170~7Ir and Erenberg, “The Legiti- mation of Nightlife," 772. Cab Galloway's description of a battle he was in at the New York Savoy is in Dempsey, Autobio grep/1y ofBlackfazz, 224; and Dempsey himselfdescribes the Savoy in Chicago (pp. 77—90). 55. Stearns and Stearns,jazz Dance, 322. 57. rue, 315. 58. Ibid., 325. 59. Elilngton quoted-in Shapiro and Hentof f, Hear Me, 158; Wells, Reminiscences, 20. 60. Langston Hughes, The Big Sea (New York: K 6]. Willie "the Lion" Smith, Music on My Mind, 153—56; and iames P. johnson, "Conversation," 46. 62. Barefield, RIOfS, interview November 1978. i 3. Smith, Music on My Mind, 154. 4. Morris, Wait UntilDork, 20. it 65. Durante quoted in lbld., 4. b , Ste in' Out. 237- , Eiliiggis infigts that the basement 15 PTObabIY the be“ piace ‘0 ' had of i ' ' " arter the setting, the less chance you atgggéazxeliiyetcilihserfe." Hodes and Hansen (eds), Selections from the ‘ cm, 233. “I know sometimes we near hapter Three hite Americans, chap. 5‘, 1e, see Leonard, jazz and the W . araita ngfiji’fogle, chaps. 10 and 11; and Nanry (With Berger), The t, 120. I ' u a an gngeonard, jazz and the White Amemam; and Leonard, The Irn act of Mechanization," in Charles Nanry (ed), American ’toryviile to Woodstock (New Brunswick, N.j.: Transaction 5., , 44—634. Cyril Ehrlich, The Piano: A History (Totowa, NJ; Rowman and ' 1976 ,cha .7. ; ink(lfieii‘iiirlich,)Thg Elana; and Arthur Loesser, Men, Women, and Pt ‘ - ' hustcr 1954), 600—602. ' ‘ if! t New York. Simon and Se . , . “95,514 Caitliihiaiiri’liaover, Music MachineswAmmoou (Style. A Cataloglof he Exhibiii'on (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. 19 ), a. 62. 5 Cow—Cow Davenport, “Mama Don‘t Low No Musici’ in {hides in and liaison (eds), Selections from the Cutter, 4.3; see George Pops;J I 05: er for a description of James P. johnson making piano rolls, Auto togra phy ofPops Foster, 151. . L onard, “The Impact," 45. ' g. Igidq Manufacturing data based on U.S. Department of Com merce Biennial Consensus of Manufactures from 1909—1932 support thfi ) conclusions about sales of piano rolls versus those of phonograp I recogdlli—igdover Music Machines, 54; and Roland Gelatt, That Fabulous Phonogmph: 1877—1977 (New York. Macrlnillan, 1977), 69 and 191. 10. Harrison Barnes, TOHNOJC, IDEETVICW 1—25—1953; 0 8m 11. Perry Bradford, Born with the Blues: Perry Brod)”; Earp)?” $13} . the True Story of Pioneering Blues Smgers and Mustozombm t Sixony Reg)”. jazz (New York: Oak Publications, 1956), 14; and Ro er , ing the Blues (New York: Stein and Day, 1970). 12. Stearns, Story offozz, £68. equent dance hall gigs in H The Autobiography, 64; Slow Drag : 0-1958; Barney Bigarci. RIOJS, in» mstrong a comic The New York Scene. 178; Barefield, class women and the dance halls, 184 Twenties America and the Meaning offazz 13. Titon, Down/tome Blues, 205. 14. Clarence Williams quoted in Stearns, Story ofjozz, 168' Spikes, RIOjS, interview 1980. The influence of classic woman biu singers on black entertainment and culture has received much serio attention and analysis. Biographies such Blues: A Study ofMo Raine}: (Boston: Univ ' 198”); and Chris Albertson, Bessie (New York: Stein and Day, E972}: - provide thorough discussions of leading performers' lives. Derric Stewart-Baxter, Ma Rainey and the Classic Blues Singers (New York: Stei and Day, 1970) is a general overview of major careers. For an analysis 0 women‘s blues and 19205 black culture, see Haze] B. Carby. “Itjus Be Dat Way Sometime: The Sexual Politics of Women’s Blues," Radical America 20 (june—july 1986): 9~22. 15. Foreman, "jazz and Race Records,” 92. F0 2t Orv uoted in Shapiro and Hentoff, floor Me, 109;hColli:; on mstroné End the Hot Five recordings, Lows Armstrong, c ap. , p. i I ’ ‘ ‘ biography, 126; Wingy - , Mum: Machmes, 72, Poster, Auto ' - 121:1? :13 ‘l’raul Vanderoot, Trumpet (m the thg (New York. Double . ,1948), 52~53. ‘ - . IRIO 8’ IngS. Manone, Trumpet on the Wing, 52-«53, Lawrence Brown j ‘ -—12—1976. ' ' 3:63;}: Armstrong story is repeated many places. This-tingta‘tggp m Lorraine Lion’s transcription of a radio broiadéas‘: engage finds; ' " ' Selections from: 2 u er, . mstrong and Mr. Robbins, in b. a h of Blah Jazz, 372' ' en, 81. See also Dempsey,.Auto tog-r p y ‘ _ ,hflidi'irais the accuracy of the story is questionable, but thgt sczsitipugis ‘3' did become a popular new novelty effect on Jazz reco; mg 05;— tron 172—73). Ellington was reputed to put some stu 1_1o cocrjréplier if us together at the last minute in order to meet a dead me. , ,uhe Ellington, 69. A 170 25. C ilier,Louis rmstrong, . 26 Giiines quoted in Shapiro and Hentofi‘, Hear Me, 177. { 96 27' Collier describes Williams’s influence In Lou‘s: Armstrong purge“, 5.40) ‘cheral musicians commented on.W1:[hakrpss“b'1:1su;::s:as niCk: v ” ” Foster, for example, claims t at - 1 la - ' Olcgde'SPzgl Head” because he was always sharp w1tted m a: recAof::r inhusings and “always cut himself in" on the records he ma te). r than eg at through," Foster claimed, "he had more of yourlnunéde Allen :eugdid," Foster, Autobiography, 100. On Williams, see a 50, w 4—20; TOHNOJC, interview lm14—1961. 0ry,nr0HNoJrc, lgtgggen (am 3957; also see Alma Hubner, “Kid Ory, 1n Hodes an , r om the Gutter, 113. w I selgéfilan‘é‘glker quoted in Shapiro and Hentoff, Hear h€,_l:e:Vi:% Eddie-Barefield, RIOJS, interview 11—1978; Ory, TOHNO] , an ncoln Collier makes a simi , 9'7). Collier’s ideas about the race, ; onventional view of race records as = at endorsed segregation. See Collier, Louis Arm lar point in Louis Armstrong (pp. 96—— catalogs represent a break with the c a marketing strategy th strong, 95*97. But black critics were also anxious to see "refined" music produced that was pleasing to European classical standards. Foreman analyzed the contradictions presented by these two positions. For a comparable discussion ofthis ambivalence in the black press, see Ronald C. Walters, “The Negro Press and the Image of Success: 1920—1939," Midcon- I linentatdmericon Studiesjour‘nal 1 l {1970): 39. IS. Charters and Kunstadt,fa-zz: The New York Scene, 97. 17. Eddie Edwards, "Once Upon a Time," Hodes and Hansen (eds), Selectiomfrom the Gutter, 109_IO. 18. Edwards, "Once Upon A Time,’ H/hitt’ Americam, 12—13; Williams a full-length discussion ofthe Or ' 109-40; Leonard,jozz and the ,jazz Alastair: ofNew Orleans, 26-37. For i :naI Dixieland azz Band OD B ,see 4—20-4957. u n . HO. Brunn, The Story ofthc Origiiot Dixielandjogz Band (Briton Ultriuge: ' 29' Foreman' Jazz a?dlglgll_e§9Record5’ 65 Louisiana State University Press, I960), 63w107. .30' Gelau’ thiw‘gmp EL; BI 35 fiecords " 234. 19. There is some question as to whether or not this story about 31' quman' Jazz an u ’ Keppard is true. In any case, it has been repeated so often that it is a 32' Ibtd" 66' staple of jazz histories and h as passed into the folklore of early jazz. d Certainly many musicains considered it worth repeating. See Ramsey ‘ _i " ' ' “ b r the Been." in HOV-1'35 3-“ and SmithJazzmen, 22; Bechct, Treat It Gentle, 113; Smith, Music on My 35‘ Smglewn qliDtEd m I gemenése Q Mind 218 Hansen (6615'): Sam‘wmfi‘m‘ m" “if?” ' M - m marlin/1mg?“ 26 Collier on 3’5 Galau’monflgmph’ 255' PM? 120333;? (\Imrork Hastings . ‘ , . ' N ew Z l ' . - ' " ’ h 'n Tastes to Popular Music 1 ~ I _ Sign: 92311212315, {Gland Marchand, Advertising the American Dream. Mokzng the Creole jazz Band, in Lou is Arnotrong, £09, 123; The jazz Tradition. (New Y ork: Oxford University ‘- 186 T wentios America and the Meaning of J azz Woyfor Modemity, 1920—1940 (Berkele i985), 92, provides the figures on rat Consumers. 37. Foster R. Dulles, America Learns to Play ( Century, 1940), 325; Collier on the kind of mus' Louis Amntrong, 90. Your History of Programs Carri (Salem, N.H.: Ayer, 1971); Leonard, J I 39. Marchand, Adoertzlsingthe Amen' 1n the New York Times, Oct. 12, 1924. 40. Shapiro and Hentoff, Hear Me, 301. 41. Count Basie quoted, ibid. :..:. .; ~ E..J_"_’.-.y_. 42. Biad,R10 ‘ .- I , _ I 4w19w197gé‘r jS, interview july 1976, Hinton, R1013, ,mervmw 43. Leonard, Beauty, White Heat, 248%74, rovides ' son, interview 10—29— P many film mus' George P' JOhn' 1985, University of California at Los Angeles 47. Hennessey, “The Chicago Establishment," 19. 48. See Cripps, Slow Fade to Block, 229; Black Beauty, White Hoot, 250—52. jane Freuer (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press growth of jazz , conventions. 49. Plot synopsis based on Cripps Briggs and Lewine, Black Beauty, White Heat, 252. 50. Huggins, The Harlem Renaissance, 91. I , in The Hollywood Musical 1982), 58w59, sees the m the movies as a victory of popular art over elitist y: University of California Press, tho audiences. Marchand's study New York: Appleton- 11: performed on radio, ed on National Radio Networks 1926—4956 “Impact of Mechanization," 46. canDream, 90—91; Meyer quoted Notes 187 51. Howard Odum, “Folk Song and Folk Poetry as Found in the Secular Songs of the Southern Negroes,"joumal of American Folklore 24 (1911): 255—94. Paul Oliver, Songsters and Saints (London: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 68._ 52. Barker, A Life in Music, 42; Wells, Reminiscences, 33; Clayton, RIOJS, interview 1975; Mose Allison, in Kitty Grime,jazz Voices (Lonu don: Quarter Books, 1983), 33; Frazier, TOHNOJC, interview 1w19— 1972. 53. See Leonard, jazz and the White Americans, 95—96, on musicians learning from recordings. McPartiand, quoted in Shapiro and Hentoff, HearMe, 118—20. Chapter Four 1. Lawrence Levine describes the importance of musical expres— sion in what he calls the “sacred world" of slaves, Block Culture and Black Consciousness, chaps. 1 and 2. See also Southern, Music of Black Ameri— cans, 175, and john Blassingame, The Slave Community, 50—76. 2. john Szwed,’ “Afro—American Musical Adaptation,” Whitten -‘ and Szwed (eds), Afro-American Anthropology, chap. 11, pp. 219—24. Szwed provides a succinct overview of various ways to interpret the roles of hluesmen and preachers in this essay. See also, Charles Keil, Urban Blues (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), introduction and pp. 143—63. On blues and community sanctions, see Baraka, Blues People, for a discussion of class and migration (pp. 122—41 and 176); and Titon, Downhome Blues, 200—202. 3. WC. Handy, Father of the Blues: An Autobiography (London: Macw millan, 1957), 10. johnsoo, Conversation, 46. Collier makes a similar point about Duke Ellington’s musical background and stresses that middle-class homes were most likely to have pianos. Collier, Duke Ellington, 19. 4. jelly Roll Morton, Mr. jelly Roll, 26; Al Rose, Eubie Bloke (New York: Schirmer Books, 1979), 10—15 and 19—21; Lawrence Brown, RIOJS, interview 6~I2-—1975; Smith, Music on My Mind, 26, 5. Rose,Blake, 22. 6. Cry, TOHNOJC, interview 4—20-1957; Matthews, TOHNOJC, interview 3—10—4959; Smith, Music on My Mind, 1—2. 7. The anecdote about the sheep and goats is based on Carrie Smith’s recollections, in Grime,jazz Voices, 32. 8. Smith, Music on My Mind, 100-101. 9. Nancy J. Weiss, The National Urban League 1910—1940 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1974), 117. ...
View Full Document

Page1 / 17

Ogren - Jazz-1 - The Jazz Revolutiqn ‘ Twenties America '...

This preview shows document pages 1 - 17. Sign up to view the full document.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
Ask a homework question - tutors are online