You are here: home > archives > research
(I've bolded the important bits.)
Gussow discusses the fact that black responses to white violence (in southern America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries) were limited by necessity. In the simplest terms, if you fought back, if you responded to white violence, then white retaliation would come ten-fold. Without this 'right of response' (legal or otherwise), music offered a way of dealing, publicly with violence. Albert Murray talks about singing the blues as a way of 'stomping' the blues - of sharing woe and therefore easing its burdensome weight. The idea with singing a song that implies lynching or violence (ie you might simply sing 'I have the blues, my body is broken') is that you share your pain and frustration without directly inviting white censure. Singing and music allow you to sneakily respond, but without risking violent retribution.
The trad jazz movement - or 'moldy figs' pushing for the preservation of an 'authentic' jazz from New Orleans - effectively pushes Armstrong to continue as Uncle Tom - unthreatening black man clowning for white audiences. A narrative history of jazz which emphasises a beginning in New Orleans and a consistent, clearly defined lineage of musicians and styles also, more subtly, relies on an idea of the black musician as powerless or unthreatening. DeVeaux makes the point that positioning jazz (and jazz musicians) as artistic loners who do not 'sell out' with commercial success:
Billie Holiday becomes a particularly attractive representation for this idea of the 'jazz musician': poor, black, addled by drugs and alcohol, a history of prostitution, yet nonetheless, a creative genius pouring out, untainted in recording sessions (and I'm reminded of the 'one take' stories) and tragically cut short.
You can see a clip from Paris Blues here.
Armstrong's performance is more than simply its surface. As with any clown, the meanings are more complex than a little light entertainment. Gabbard continues his point:
And I replied
For women, cultural and social context was absolutely clear and absolutely present in everything they did. While jazz historians can imagine a Sidney Bechet leaving New Orleans and gadding off to Chicago, New York, Paris, a free agent following his art, it is a little more difficult for them to write the stories of women who played and sang music from the home or the family or their (less romantic) place of work. There are many stories of the 'whore house pianists' but far fewer stories of the whores, who were occasionally musicians in their own rights.
That point, of course, leads us to a discussion of black women blues singers in the 20s. But I don't have the time now, and I haven't read the books I have here. But I was very interested in this link between 'jazz history' and race and class and gender. I need more information, though.
August 12, 2010
new orleans jazz?
Posted by dogpossum on August 12, 2010 12:28 AM | Comments (1)
I'm interested in the way dancers and DJs use the term 'New Orleans' when they're talking about music. Different dancers use the term in different ways. There, are, for example, a number of dancers who've moved to New Orleans itself, and use the term 'New Orleans music' (or NOLA music or whatever) to refer to all the bands currently playing in that city. The expression is used to refer to a geographic and cultural grouping of bands and musicians. Not all of these are jazz bands. In this post I'm going to try to explore some of the ways 'New Orleans' is used in swing dance discourse, and how it carries so many different connotations and functions in so many ways.
Last year the Ultimate Lindy Hop Showdown, one of the highest profile and most influential events in the lindy community, was held in New Orleans, and it will be again this year. It's interesting to see how the promotion for Showdown has expanded from an exclusive focus on dancing itself to a broader promotion of New Orleans as a cultural mecca for jazz dancers and musicians. The food and weather and architecture are as important to the event as the social dancing.
(NOLA map of jazz neighbourhoods from here)
This idea of New Orleans as musically and culturally unique is not new - the HBO series Treme makes that point (rather aggressively) throughout its first season. In this program the music anchors the narrative, both in terms of setting scenes, but also in terms of structuring the lives of some of the main characters who happen to be musicians or music-lovers. Food, however, is just as important, with one main character running a restaurant that later becomes a pivot point for a key plot point, as well as a meeting place for a series of otherwise unrelated characters.
I'm not entirely convinced Treme is the best program out there (though at least this time the characters manage to pass the Bechdel test... just... almost), but it certainly hit the international swing community with a degree of serendipity. Though it isn't widely watched in Australia (not broadcast here, and really only available through... shall we say, by way of the jolly roger), the music has been trickling down to various DJs and dancers in Australia, coinciding with a growing interest in New Orleans as the home (or at least most recent resting place) of Showdown.
My key source for music from Treme, beyond the program itself, has been the Songs from Treme blog, which I learnt about via twitter and other music and Wire loving friends.
I liked the way the music was largely by independent or by lesser known artists (and so available from my preferred indy sources - CDBaby, emusic and so on), and one of the pleasures of watching the program was identifying artists in the background of scenes. I think, perhaps, that this might be one of the more difficult parts of the program - without these musicians and music to spot, the story line and dialogue are far less complex and interesting than those of the Wire. But then, it's also interesting to see a program using music in this way.
I think it's worth pausing to watch the opening credits of Treme (which you can watch on youtube here).
Ken Burns Jazz series spent an inordinate amount of time in New Orleans, and that itself was more than a little problematic. While the city was absolutely central to the development of American jazz, for so many reasons (and we have to mention its role as a sea port and consequent role as a gathering point for musicians of so many international cultures and traditions), it was not and is not the only place in that country (or others) contributing to the development of jazz. I mention this program because it is so iconic, and because it plays such a key role in Australian swing dance culture. It saw the release of a series of very useful CDs, a fascinating book, and of course, a range of DVDs which even mention lindy hop at one point.
But I think John Goodman's ill-fated character makes the best point of all in Treme when he reminds his Youtube audience that the city is more than the picturesque French quarter and live jazz. It is also political corruption, a disturbing crime problem, grinding poverty and burning racial tensions. Many Australian or international dancers, I think, would be surprised to see not only the devastation still remaining from Katrina, but also the ground-in social difficulties beyond the wrought-iron and narrow streets of the tourist quarter. A jazz fan might argue that it is out of these conditions that jazz was born, but I'm fairly sure a New Orleans local might also like (or even prefer) reliable electricity and political ethics.
This brings me (in a roundabout way) to my original point. The way dancers use 'New Orleans' when they're discussing music for dancing. I've heard it used in a number of ways, including contexts where I've thought 'hey, that's just wrong'. But then, language is flexible and jazz dance reminds us every single day that there's no right or wrong, just the way that you do it.
When I say 'New Orleans' jazz, I'm referring to one (or a number of) these:
Music or musicians currently working in the city itself.
So I might be talking about various parts of the Loose Marbles or other 'street bands' working in or hailing from New Orleans. Not all of these are jazz or in the jazz tradition. But the bands dancers in Australia tend to be most interested in are.
One of my favourite songs from the Treme soundtrack is 'Shallow Water' by Donald Harrison (which you can listen to here. I love this song for running, and I also love it for the way it ties into the story arc considering the New Orleans indians and Big Chiefs (who fascinate and delight me with their costumes, posing and strutting and cultural appropriation of native American imagery in combination with very African practices and rhythms). But I wouldn't play this song at a swing dance, even though the complicated rhythms work perfectly with the complicated rhythms we dance and hear in jazz.
So when most dancers talk about the great bands that they saw in New Orleans, or the great CDs they've just bought or the songs they're playing for dancers, most of them aren't talking about Donald Harrison, they're talking about the younger street bands, recreationist bands like the New Orleans Jazz Vipers, The Palmetto Bug Stompers, Tuba Skinny, Meschiya Lake and the Little Big Horns or perhaps (at a pinch) not-quite-street-band-people like Kermit Ruffins or the (incomparable) Preservation Hall Jazz band. I often find that a lot of dancers conflate all the recent round of street jazz bands as 'New Orleans', even if they're not from New Orleans. This might include bands like the Cangelosi Cards, Tin Pan or Baby Soda.
Music or musicians of the 'jazz' era who hailed from New Orleans.
(pic of the King Oliver Jazz Band stoled from here)
This includes people like Louis Armstrong, Lil Hardin, Jelly Roll Morton and so on. While their earlier stuff is definitely 'New Orleans', and artists like Armstrong made great mileage from New Orleans revival type music in the 40s and 50s, these guys didn't stand still, musically speaking. Armstrong (who is the most obvious, but certainly not the only example) developed from his work as a musician in King Oliver's band to doing hardcore big band swing, and then ballads, torch songs and a whole range of other things. So simply identifying a musician as 'New Orleans' might give you an idea of their history or their influences, but really isn't enough to describe their entire career or every song they played.
Music of the 'New Orleans' style.
Now this is where I've seen the greatest range of opinions. I heard a dancer the other night describe a song by Artie Shaw that I was playing as 'New Orleans'. This surprised me as Shaw was white, born in New York, grew up in Connecticut and isn't known as a New Orleans style musician at all. I think, in that case, the dancer meant that this song wasn't groove, or was earlier, or classic jazz.
I could imagine a difference of opinion about whether a musician was 'New Orleans' or 'Chicago', particularly as many jazz musicians left New Orleans for Chicago in the 20s, and you can hear the music shifting as it moved between cities. But even then, there's quite clear distinctions...
What I think a lot of dancers mean, when they say a song is 'New Orleans' is that it has a sort of raucous collective instrumentation (as opposed to the tightly arranged big bands of the 30s and later), where musicians improvise within the structure of an arrangement. Most of these band have about eight or fewer musicians, as this sort of musicality is difficult to hold together with bigger bands. I seem to remember Gunther Schuller talking about this, but I'd have to look it up, and the book's downstairs.
This type of band really tended to dominate the 20s, but was later 'revived' in the 30s and 40s by the 'moldy figs' and others who held that swing was modern and not really 'true' jazz at all - a highly contentious argument that particularly shat the bebop jazz musicians.
Instrumentation tended to include a tuba player (to replace the bass player), a drummer who played a sparser, pared back kit (or who was even replaced by a washboard player or other type of rhythm instrumentalist - playing a suitcase or other simple rhythm instrument), some brass (trumpet or cornet, a trombonist...) and perhaps a pianist, if a piano was to be had. There were often lyrics, provided either by a guest vocalist, by one of the band, or by the band ensemble.
Blues-structured songs would often dominate the repertoire of these bands, but not necessarily so. Singers were not amplified, and it's not surprising that shouters are associated with these bands, even though they might not necessarily have begun with these bands at all. The singing style of musicians like Meschiya Lake certainly encourage this association.
Timing-wise, the rhythm was often 2/4, or felt like 1-2, 1-2, 1-2 rather than 1-2-3-4 of later swing (and of course there's the Basie quote: "I can't dig that two-beat jive the New Orleans cats play; cause my boys and I got to have four heavy beats to a bar and no cheating"). This is a tricky thing to talk about, and I don't really have the language for it. It's not right to say that all New Orleans jazz (then or now) was 2/4 or even that it all had that uppy-downy feeling rather than the flatter, 4/4 time swing does. But if I hear a song with that sort of instrumentation, in 2/4 time or with that really uppy-downy rhythm that makes me want to do 20s charleston rather than low, flat out lindy hop, I tend to think 'New Orleans', even though it's not strictly accurate.
I use 'New Orleans' in my music collection to identify a particular type of music or sound. I distinguish between 20s society jazz, 20s big band jazz, 20s hot big bands and New Orleans jazz. If it gets the New Orleans tag from me, it's hot (as opposed to sweet), it's a smaller band, it has that collective improvisation (which often sounds like a bunch of pots being thrown around) and it doesn't have a shuffle rhythm in the drum section. But I wouldn't use this definition to discuss or describe the music to another person in conversation. I feel a bit strange writing it here.
But I also want to note one other type of music which falls under the New Orleans umbrella, but which I don't think is quite the same:
New Orleans revival.
(Sidney Bechet with Bob Wilbur, as stoled from Riverwalk Jazz)
There was, literally, something of a New Orleans revival in the 30s and 40s. I've read a bit about it, but from what I can gather from some really unreliable sources (and I just don't know if it's a true story or not), this revival was prompted by white music fans, including those writing jazz magazines (I'd have to check the titles I'm afraid, but I have made a list of my posts approaching this topic here), and eventually running jazz festivals. These guys felt that the 'modern' jazz of the day (swing and later bebop) wasn't 'real' jazz, and so they sought out surviving musicians (like Bunk Johnson) and got them to record.
Other musicians rerecorded or revisited their stuff from the 20s as well, so you get people like Sidney Bechet recording New Orleans standards in the 40s and 50s. They're great songs, it's great stuff. But it often has some different stuff going on in the rhythm section (the drums is where I hear it most - a shuffle rhythm rather than cooking pots clashing and bashing or steady thump). It also often feels as though the uppy downy beat is smoothed out a bit, swung a bit. For me, this often leaves me thinking 'should I charleston or lindy hop to this?'
Interestingly, I've noticed that a lot of Australian jazz clubs (in both Sydney and Melbourne anyway) favour this sound. I think this is because the New Orleans revival sound was very popular in Australia in the 40s and 50s. Which is interesting as well because black American musicians were not allowed into Australia from about 1928 until the mid 1950s (I track my (limited) research into this topic in this post, which includes a pic of the American band that prompted the ban). The ban was initiated for a number of (racist) reasons, but also because of pressure from the Australian musicians union. So the Australian jazz musicians and scene gained their influence not from seeing and jamming with African American musicians, but from records, visiting white musicians, magazines from the United States and their occasional trips overseas. Needless to say, most Australian jazz musicians were (and are) white. So the sound that dominates much of Australian jazz is what I'd think of as 'New Orleans revival'. Even though it's probably not really accurate.
...concluding....
Ok, so this post is really just an overview of some of the things I've noticed about the way people use the term 'New Orleans' in discussions about music for dancing. It's probably very inaccurate, and I'll probably disagree with it myself in a little while. But I wanted to write this because the street bands of New Orleans are very popular at the moment with more experienced Australian dancers. The 20s sound generally is very popular, in part because it's chic with America's experienced dancers (who teach here in Australia) and at the highest profile American events (which we experience via Youtube, Facebook and stories from returning travellers).
I also want to state that though I'm very fond of these bands, and some are extraordinarily good, I do have reservations about their dominance. I've started pushing for solid, big band swing in my sets, and I've really started missing this stuff in other DJs' sets. In Sydney we hear all sorts of music, so I'm ok here. But I do hear a lot of that other stuff in other cities. While I do love the smaller bands, there's nothing quite like a big band in full flight. And I do miss the flattened out feeling of a really good, swinging rhythm. I do have some concerns about what I see in some dancers dancing - lots of flattened feet, a flatter, unbouncy lindy hop and a general economy of movement which suits the scorching tempos and unpredictable nature of the collective improvisation of this stuff. While there's amazing stuff going on, sometimes I worry that the more interesting stuff - the greater range of arm movements, feet way off the ground, the triple steps and so on - are neglected.
But then, really, who the fuck am I to pass judgement on this stuff? It's all dancing, and dancing is a Good Thing. And, to be honest, I really like to see dancers experimenting with form and style and musicality. And it's a very wonderful thing to see young musicians working with this music and dancers supporting new bands by buying their CDs and booking them for gigs.
"new orleans jazz?" was posted in the category djing and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
May 1, 2010
dictionary of sydney
Posted by dogpossum on May 1, 2010 1:08 PM | Comments (0)
The Dictionary of Sydney is a pretty good resource, if you can navigate it. I remember seeing a job going with them a while ago - either as a research position through its host uni, or through the tool itself as an information management person.
It could be really awesome. I'll use it a bit more and see what I think. The home page has some usability problems, though.
....this is my life, isn't it? Every site I see, I'll assess for usability. Geez.
"dictionary of sydney" was posted in the category academia and curating and collecting and learning and research
April 29, 2010
kindergardeners rock spaghetti architecture
Posted by dogpossum on April 29, 2010 1:37 PM | Comments (0)
This film is interesting for the discussion of iterative design processes. This is something we talk about in class - the importance of building prototypes over and over and over again during the design process. This has also been the hardest part of learning to design things, for me. In the beginning of the semester I tended to spend half, if not three quarters of the allocated design time in class talking and thinking and writing about my design. And then I'd try making or doing the design and realise that, actually, it's more useful to talk less and to play more.
I think that a PhD does this to you: it trains you to think about doing things, rather than to actually do them. Which of course is the inverse of learning to dance. You'll never dance fast or well or interestingly if you just stand there thinking about it. I think that learning jazz routines on the social dance floor, in 'real time'* has been the single most important part of my education, ever. Of all time.
It's taught me to work with other people. It's taught me to observe - to watch and listen. It's taught me that to make shit, you have to do shit: you can guarantee that you will NEVER learn a routine if you just stand there and look at it. But if you try, you automatically improve your abilities a zillion percent. And even if you don't get the routine (which most of us won't), you will learn how your body works. And understanding how your body works is absolutely the most important part of dancing. Or building things.
Learning jazz routines on the social dance floor also teaches you that counting out steps is ridiculous. It's a silly enforcing of a rigid organising system on something which is far more exciting and slippery. Jazz - in 'real time' (ahahhahaha) is bound by phrases and bars and so on, but it is also slippery and busts out of those boundaries with improvisation all the time. If you only learn routines by numbers, you will never learn how to bust out of boundaries and improvise. And improvising is everything that dancing is. Without it, you might as well be... writing pages of the dictionary out by hand. It's far better to learn a jazz routine by listening to the music and understanding musical structure (and hence choreography and dance structures) by moving your body and using the music as the organising principle.
Off the dance floor, improvisation and iterative design processes teach you the limits of your materials (how strong is a piece of spaghetti), the importance of collaborative design and learning (and you can't learn to work with people in theory - you can only learn by doing) and the sheer joy of working within a time frame and feeling the adrenaline surging.
I know I'm an adrenaline junky. But I just think life is so much more fun when you give yourself a little jolt of the organically manufactured good stuff.
*I pause here to laugh a lot about the ridiculousness of this idea: dance is always in real time, or else it just doesn't exist!
"kindergardeners rock spaghetti architecture" was posted in the category academia and fitness and learning and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
April 14, 2010
visualising information
Posted by dogpossum on April 14, 2010 11:51 AM | Comments (0)
We've only spent a tiny bit of time on this in class, but I'm interested in visualising information. Being a word person, I've always tended to represent information in words. But working on the MLX websites and programs I've also had to figure out ways of representing information in other ways. Dancers during an exchange aren't interested in lots of words (and are often too tired to figure them out), and, frankly, who wants to read a whole bunch of long, boring sentences when there's exciting action things to be done?
There are a range of accessibility issues at play here as well, and reading problems are quite common in dancers.
So here're a few sites I've found that tackle this issue of 'visualising information'
This one is taken from Lapham's Quarterly, which is a really nice online magazine/journal dealing with history, literature, art - all that high brow action. But the tone is cheery and a little wiggedy, and they tweet some really cool stuff.
This American Infographic features "infographical companions to the celebrated radio show". In other words, it is a series of images created in response to episodes of the This American Life radio show.
There is, of course Edwarde Tufte, king of visualising information. Tufte had a walk-on part in my last essay. With a line, I think.
Newsflow visualises news stories in real time, as they are published. This one is FULLY SICK.
Infosthetics is a blog capturing links to really interesting 'info visualisation' items.
textarc 'visualises' the words of books or text. This is magic.
We Feel Fine, visualising 'I feel' or 'feeling' text from blogs.
Visual Complexity is... well, lots of visual information stuff.
Edit: Something critiquing the 'vizualisation cargo cult'.
Someone else getting cranky about dodgy info visualisation.
A tool for doing your own fancy visualisations.
Another Edit: Visual information and The Times through history.
"visualising information" was posted in the category design and learning and research
April 6, 2010
reading and thinking about design in cultural context
Posted by dogpossum on April 6, 2010 11:41 AM | Comments (0)
I tend to tweet my thoughts as I do my reading for these classes. This ends up cluttering up my twitter feed with random comments. I don't have time to write full blog entries while I'm reading (and I shouldn't). As I read and tweet, I'm also taking notes and making comments on readings in a word processing document.
About every five minutes:
I will try to note some of my comments here as I go, instead of cluttering up my twitter feed and annoying people.
I haven't been to the library once this semester. But I've done all the readings and written three assignments. Uni has changed in 17 years.
Challenging the pseudoscience of these design articles is getting tiresome.
I tired of your bullshit, design theory.
your fully justified article is blowing up my eyeballs, design article. Also, your content is desperate flummery.
Gotta remind myself: guiding motivation behind most design isn't equity or social justice but financial gain. This is important difference.
...........................................
Oh man, my brains are blowing up. This article is just so... it's like they're trying to reinvent the wheel. It drives me crazy.
I give up.
I'll probably return to this article later, once I've been to the lecture. I'll definitely return to it if I need it for an assignment. This way I have an idea of what it's about, and can come back later. There's no discussion of readings in the tutorial or lecture, so I don't need to be 'on'. I'm also finding that the readings have no reference to the material covered in lectures.
I've just come across an article about the India Report. This caught my eye because the report was written by the Eames - mega famous American designers - who went to India to have a look at Indian design. I'm not sure if they were invited specifically, but I do think it was a response to the Indian government asking for suggestions about improving design and industry in India. The Eames' report was sponsored by the Ford Foundation.
The Eames recommended a National Institute of Design be established, and it was. This is just fascinating stuff. I'd be really interested to see how the report (and institute) accommodate:
- regional differences in design
- cultural differences in design within the massive and culturally and ethnically diverse Indian continent
- gender/class/etc in (then) existing design practices, particularly as they relate to rural communities and gendered design and manufacturing processes.
I'd also be be fascinated to see how and if and even whether the Institute and Report worked in a context of cultural imperialism and India-as-British-Colony. I'd be curious about value systems and evaluation of design in this context, as this is something we do in my design subject - we 'evaluate' designs. I'm immediately wary of the term 'evaluate' - to engage with an item and to assess it according to a set of design values. I smell cultural specificity, but then, the part of me that's learning about design pragmatics, understands that you do actually have to assess designs. This is especially important if you're working to create accessible designs, or designs which improve accessibility, particularly for less powerful or marginalised groups and individuals.
I keep stumbling over the relationship between postmodernism and.... that other thing. I think of it in terms of feminism - women are all very different, with different needs and interests, but we also share common needs and interests, and so can work as groups. I always think of these groupings as contextually and temporally dependent, and also as mobile (agile?), changing all the time.
So usability design should:
- recognise the limitations of one designer designing for a group from whom he or she differs. In other words, remember who you are, how your ideas about the world are specific to you and your experiences, and design self-reflexively
- develop useful design personas for developing objects.
I'm not entirely sure about this point as design personas are just new to me. Basically, you develop an imaginary user with very convincing attributes - age, class, etc. The best personas are the product of extensive empirical research and a designer's long experience. I suspect, though, that it might simply be more useful to work with the intended users directly with a sort of design-centred action research approach. This is complicated, though, by the fact that designers are actually working for clients (retailers, government bodies, etc) who are requesting a design to serve a particular user or customer. So you have to accommodate not only the users' needs and interests, but also those of the client who's paying you. Economic factors shape commercial (and government) work, policy issues shape government work, individual notions of the product from your liason affect the design..... and so on.
I've just been reading about scientific approaches to design. Or using principles of scientific research (cognitive psychology in particular) in the design process. While I'm interested in one way, I'm also very sceptical in another. Though it seems like a nice approach to user centredness and usability, I think that the power and ideas remain with the designer and client, and so the process still doesn't actually produce user-centred designs. We are still filtering ideas through the brain of a designer.
This is, of course, quite practical in one sense. A designer understands how manufacturing processes work. They understand how design processes - actually getting things done work. But they do not - despite their best imagining and empirical research - actually know what it is to balance a child on one hip while you use a washing machine. Not once, but hundreds and hundreds of times. And then, of course, we have to talk about gender and class and the luxuries (and perceptions of) time and so on.
I think of this sometimes in terms of colour blindness or perceptions of colour. We each 'know' what blue is. And while we can use various tools to 'show' us how other people perceive blue, physically, we cannot ever ignore or leave behind our 'knowledge' of blue from our own, everyday lived experience. So the way we use blue, though it might in some sense respond to those alternative uses or perceptions of 'blue', will, ultimately, be shaped and informed and structured by our understanding of blue and blueness.
....I'm wondering if design-by-colaboration is useful here? Or how to go about involving users in the design process? Or whether design needs to get out of offices and out into other people's everyday spaces?
As I read and write about this stuff, I keep thinking about how we do audience research in media and cultural studies. How the notion of positivism - that we can somehow objectively 'collect' data - is anathema to solid audience studies research. Design research, though, seems absolutely founded on this notion of 'collecting' data. When I am absolutely sure that data isn't found but made.
Well, we'll see how we go. I'm a bit sorry I only have two semesters of learn during this course. I'd like to learn a whole lot more. But there's nothing to stop me getting my independent learn on later, after I'm finished. I'm also very interested in seeing how my experiences working in a job shape the way I think about this stuff. And the new ideas I'll come up with. It's all very exciting.
"reading and thinking about design in cultural context" was posted in the category design and learning and research
March 29, 2010
searching sources
Posted by dogpossum on March 29, 2010 6:02 PM | Comments (0)
NLA Australian Newspapers - search em for stuffz.
Trove - a gateway to all sorts of interesting things
VADS - a gateway to 'free' images for use in educational projects
CSIRO's ScienceImage site - for images of 'science and technology' excellentness
"searching sources" was posted in the category learning and research
February 26, 2010
sugar hill history
Posted by dogpossum on February 26, 2010 10:35 AM | Comments (0)
This is a great multimedia exploration of Sugar Hill. It uses:
- maps
- music
- interviews
- images
And emphasises the role of 'place' and 'community' (both physical and cultural) in creative and artistic development. This is, of course, my obsession. I am absolutely obsessed with the idea of creative work as necessarily going on in community spaces, as a product of interpersonal interaction as well as individual motivation and inspiration.
"sugar hill history" was posted in the category research
running -> exercise -> dancing -> jazz history
Posted by dogpossum on February 26, 2010 9:39 AM | Comments (0)
There's a man upstairs in our bathroom banging and hammering and sawing. It's really loud. Bathing without a shower is difficult, but not that bad. It'll be nice when we get our shower back, though.
Meanwhile, I'm still on the c25k, and did the first run of week 5 today. It's a nine week program, so I'm over half way. This is the point, though, where most people tend to give up. I actually feel quite good. It's not as difficult as I thought, probably because it starts so gradually and then builds progressively. Today's program involved:
a 5 minute warm up walk
5 minute run
3 minute walk
5 minute run
3 minute walk
5 minute run
5 minute cool down walk
I was surprised that I could do all the running bits without having to stop, and I remember thinking as I finished the first run 'Woah, I just ran five minutes without stopping. Haven't been able to do that in years.' I still breathe really loudly (though not as loudly as I used to) and I certainly couldn't hold a conversation at the same time (which is the ideal running pace). But I didn't have to walk during any of the running bits and I felt pretty ok the whole way.
I actually quite like the sessions. Thirty minutes of exercise is a tiny amount, but it's time well spent - no dilly dallying about - and it leaves me feeling really good. I have pretty bad snots at the moment because our bathroom is being ripped to bits, but that's not affecting my running the way it used to. I have some new aches in my left foot, under the arch, but that feels like a hamstring issue, and I have very tight calves, so I always need to stretch my hamstrings. So, generally, I feel pretty good. I'm knocking on wood as I type, as I can't really believe this is going so well.
There are a few things that seem key to the usefulness of this approach to training. Firstly, the audio cues on the ipod are essential. It tells me when to start running, when to start walking, when I'm half way. Secondly, the music is really good. I choose songs that either pump me up, or warm me up (or down) gently. I might end up using spoken podcasts later, as they distract me from the exercise and make the going easier. After this, the steady progress, with a structure to the sessions that changes weekly (and more frequently as you progress) makes the sessions more interesting. And I think the most important part is having clear goals.
One of the things that's made it difficult to stick to a serious exercise program in the past is the lack of goals. Learning tranky doo is fun, but once you have that under control, it's difficult to feel motivate. One routine after another is also kind of dull. Working on dance stuff with a partner is nice, but I think that without clear goals you tend to get a bit distracted and demotivated. I guess that's why competitions are so useful.
So I really like the couch to 5k program. I'm especially happy with the fact that I can run five minutes without stopping. No pain in my feet, and I can actually breathe. It's very satisfying. To think that I'll be running half an hour without stopping soon is almost beyond the imagining.
One of the other things I like about it, is feeling my muscles toning up. I feel as though my jubbly bits are kind of being compressed and firmed up into muscle. The muscles I have underneath the jubbly are slowly being revealed. I'm fascinated by my arm muscles, which are entirely the result of cycling. I can't believe cycling gives you arm muscles. But then cycling in a hilly city is challenging - you work harder. You use your arms to control your bike, and you tend to overwork your arms if you're too tight in your shoulders and too weak in your core. But I'm also beginning to feel stronger and more stable in my core, which is fab. I'm also finding it easier to activate my lats (so important for dancing) and other individual muscle (and groups) which in turn makes it easier to reduce the energy I spend. Using the right muscles for the job means that I become more efficient in my movement - less flobbering about out of control, less overusing the wrong muscle.
So while I'm muscling up, I'm also finding that other, tighter muscle groups (my lower back, my shoulders) are loosening up. As the rest of my body steps up and starts doing its job, those places can relax and stop doing more than their fair share. It's all very interesting. I'm especially exploring the way these changes affect my dancing and other activities. I can feel myself becoming more stable. I have more energy and greater stamina.
This is also making me the most annoying student in classes on Tuesday night. Hollywood style lindy hop (as in west coast not east, centred on dancers like Dean Collins rather than the Whitey's Lindy Hoppers) is a foreign country. It's fascinatingly technical, using the same principles as the lindy I'm used to, but in different ways. It's complex, and yet when it's done right, it's very energy efficient.
I'm particularly fascinated by the swingout. This type of swingout uses much the same principles of momentum and dynamic energy, but in a very different way. The thing that makes a swingout so amazing is that the follow moves towards the lead, then turns and changes direction, moving away from him. This simple process is actually really complex, in terms of energy and momentum. It's too easy to lose all your energy and momentum when you change direction, so the challenge is keeping that energy in your bodies, and yet still changing direction.
This type of swingout involves a more thorough 'leading' of the follow, but it also seems to use a less 'natural' approach to movement... that statement could perhaps be the product of ignorance, but it seems as though the lead has to be more aware of energy and where the follow is and also where he is. I use a gendered pronoun deliberately. I'm the only female lead in the class, and I'm finding the gender stuff is quite different in this type of scene. An emphasis on vintage dressing seems to reflect a more conservative approach to gender roles. Women follow, men lead. There's also been less emphasis on improvisation within the swingout.
For me, improvisation (within the swingout and elsewhere) is the follow's opportunity to 'speak.' A decent lead doesn't 'allow' the follow time to speak, but actually incorporates these contributions into their leading. So the two really do function as a team. The more comprehensive leading seems to micromanage the follow's movement, and it's been tricky figuring out where and how I should add in my jazz steps (I follow in the second class and usually socially - I rarely lead socially these days, which I am about to change).
The classes this week did look at variations on the swingout, and this was really interesting. It also meant that I had to stop and learn the basic footwork and shape of this type of swingout properly. I'm also wondering whether I should adopt this type of swingout when leading in class. That's the sensible thing to do, but I worry that it will mean I'll lose all memory of any other swingout completely. Which is kind of bullshitty, as any swingout I have now is no doubt so riddled with personal habits and problems it's already kind of broke. Learning a new swingout will make me conscious of all these idiosyncrasies and make it possible to rebuild a stronger swingout.
At any rate, I'm thoroughly enjoying being in classes again. It's so new, it's challenging. I'm also out of practice, in terms of knowing how to learn in class, and I'm quite enjoying the way this makes everything more difficult. I am also the type of student who asks questions and really likes to get things right, so I'm annoying everyone. I still find leading makes more sense. I just have no sense of what my body is doing when I'm following. I'm really not aware of my body and muscles and so on when I'm following. I think it's because when I'm leading I not only have to understand what I'm doing, but also be aware of my follow and what's happening in their body, so understanding my own body becomes the first part of understanding momentum and how we make it work between us. What I don't understand is why I can't figure this out when I'm following.
This stuff makes it really difficult to follow in class. I can look at the moves and understand how they work, and I can also figure out how I'd lead it, but the lead I'm working with mightn't, so I have to let them figure it out. But because I can't feel the follow (because that's me), I don't really understand what's going wrong/right in our partnership at that moment. Meanwhile, I find it really difficult to stop concentrating on the lead and to start engaging with following. Part of me wonders if I should just give up on following altogether. But then the rest of me refuses to be beaten.
I still haven't found a good yoga class. Sigh.
But I have spent some lovely time in the library this week, reading some really good stuff on Frank Trumbauer, Bix Beiderbecke and Jack Teagarden and listening along to my music as I go. I've also been digging into the library's music collection, listening to some of their neat stuff as I read. It's all been really really interesting. These guys are interesting because they were white, very popular and also totally top notch. And there these moments where they recorded with African American musicians in the 20s and 30s and I think 'how the fuck did this happen in segregated America?' I've also come across interesting references to the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, a band popularly considered a crappy novelty band who claimed they invented jazz. They didn't. But while they weren't the most awesome band, they were very influential, and I keep coming across musicians and bands they worked with who were very good. This stuff is also interesting because Bix, Tram and Teagarden worked in Paul Whiteman's band. I generally think of Whiteman's stuff as a sort of wet, watered down jazz with strings and sweet arrangements. But this sort of dance music was super popular. And while I don't like it much at all, the sales of this stuff bolstered the recorded music industry generally, which in turn made it possible for artists I do to have recorded. I don't think it's actually that simple a connection, but there's definitely a complex relationship between class, race, musical aesthetics (sweet or hot?) live performances, venue ownership and management, radio broadcasting and recorded music during this period.
I don't know that much about this yet, but it's definitely caught my eye. I hope I'll have time during the semester to chase these thoughts down. Probably not. Classes start next week, and I'm going to have to do some clever catching up after BBS.
Right, that's enough of that.
"running -> exercise -> dancing -> jazz history" was posted in the category c25k and lindy hop and other dances and music and research and yoga
February 16, 2010
digital resources... mostly
Posted by dogpossum on February 16, 2010 5:38 PM | Comments (0)
This post is really just to track a range of online sources I've used today. I'm really interested in the relationship between different tools, and between online and face to face tools. I want to frame this post/discussion by pointing out that swing DJs are interested in music primarily as dancers and as DJs for dancers. So their interest in music and dance and history is almost always tied to the physical experience of dancing. And dancing is ALL about the body, no matter how intertubed you are. Dancers also tend to have quite extensive online networks, networks of friends and acquaintances which crisscross their country and the world. I just know that if Peter wasn't actually playing music as I type, he'd be chiming in with useful tweeted comments and links.
The body pwns the intertubes any day.
I read this thread on SwingDJs this morning,
which directed us to:
this story about hot jazz in a full-text issue of Life on Google books.
I replied in the thread on swingdjs, but also in a post on my own blog, here.
Reading the list and thinking about hot jazz as I wrote that post, I was reminded of things I'd read in books (!), one of which is also available in full text on google books here.
I have also found full text versions online, but I can't remember where. If you start with The Jazz Study Group @ Columbia and Jazz Studies Online you'll probably eventually find them all.
But while I was reading these things in books, I came across references to a series of photographs and films which are very popular with dances - by Gjon Mili. Mili is best known amongst dancers for his short film Jammin' the Blues which is available on youtube along with other films he made featuring jazz musicians (I link them here.)
There're some iconic photos of dancers in Life magazine in their 'Life goes to...' series. These are available in Google/Life's online collection. Gjon Mili also did some very interesting photos as part of a photo shoot for Esquire in a Jam Session series.
I've already written about magazines and jazz ad nauseum.
Meanwhile, that original Life article listed '30 good hot records'. Which made me think about canons. And discographies as canons. There are various online versions of discographies, but the good ones aren't freely available online. Boo. Hiss.
Canons and discographies made me think about following particular musicians, and all this talk about 'essential' lists of jazz musicians and songs made me think about the Great Day In Jazz photo, which has a documentary film attached, and which Rayned used to structure his Yehoodi Radio show, which you could stream online.
After I'd written that post earlier today, I was still thinking about these issues. And I remembered seeing a note attached to an Australian photo from the 20s in an online collection. I eventually found the photo on flickr.com in their flickr commons (with which I am obsessed) by typing 'bands jazz sydney' into the search box, getting this list. This is the photo. I was particularly interested in the comment that black American bands were banned in Australia from the date of this photo (1928) until 1955 (when Louis Armstrong visited Australia). I wondered if it was true.
So I asked twitter. This led to a discussion between (mostly) The SwingDJ, DJRussellTurner, a discussion witnessed by all the people who followed one or all of us on Twitter.
TheSwingDJ was sceptical.
DJRussellTurner tweeted clarified the Rex Stewart thing.
DJRussellTurner suggested a distinction between 'band' and 'musicians', and then linked to an an article by Alec Morgan in the journal Scan which used the original photo and added
But, not all musical imports were welcomed by Sydney's moral guardians. Sonny Clay's renowned Jazz band, The Colored Idea, arrived here from the USA in 1928 to play the burgeoning nightclubs. After a couple of white women were found in a hotel room with the Afro-American musicians, the band was escorted back to the ship and told never to grace our shores again. While the occasional black musician was allowed in after careful scrutiny for a limited period, Afro-American bands were not permitted back until the mid 1950's when Louis Armstrong and his band pushed the colour-bar down.
I suddenly decided I needed to know more, and I certainly needed to verify this idea that 'black bands were banned in Australia' during this period. The important question here is why? Why did I want to be sure? Partly because this would indicate interesting things about:
- race and racism in Australia (White Australia Policy)
- jazz and jazz culture in Australia (jam sessions, playing with and listening to other musicians is central to the exchange and cultural transmission of creative, ideological and discursive forms. A lack of African American musicians in Australia would go some way to supporting my continuing suspicions about the whiteness of Australian jazz. And, consequently, white jazz dance.
- the music and entertainment industry in Australia.
I had a bit of a squizz in various online sources, but eventually decided I needed to look at some more newspapers from the day. These sorts of (albeit somewhat unreliable) primary sources can be helpful.
So I started simple, and followed this link from the flickr page. Not a whole lot of help right now, but it would be worth following up the original photographer.
Then I remembered someone on twitter mentioning an online tool which allowed you to search online Australian primary sources. I couldn't remember who it was who put me onto it (I still can't), so I just followed a bunch of links from likely sources.
Until I saw a name I recognised: Trove. And started searching for "Sonny Clay".
I found this newspaper article on Trove which outlined accusations about the musicians' union from the 'banned band''s representatives.
Meanwhile, TheSwingDJ confirmed our suspicions but also noted that Rex Stewart wasn't black, according to the musicians' union (I wish I had his reference for this, actually).
He also tweeted other interesting tidbits including one about 'good reputations' and 'paying' to be allowed to play.
And then there were various comments on twitter from peeps 'listening in' to our 3-way chat, including comments about the photos as resources for fashion, Trove's value for private research projects and so on. I asked for help RE Trove's browser-compatability as I wanted to edit the scanned text of the article, but couldn't log in. Various tweeps offered tips and feedback.
Then I revisited DJRussellTurner's link to the Scan article and the original flickr photo page and discovered that the author of the Scan article had a blog where she discussed this photo and issue. Her thinking about this issue led to her discussion of flappers and gender here and here.
I then checked our her blog's 'about' page and discovered she's at the Centre for Critical and Cultural Studies at UQ where I did my BA and MA and where I still have friends working.
In one of those blog posts she notes in a caption for (a repro of that original photo from flickr):
(Members of Sonny Clay's Coloured Idea (including the singer Ivie Anderson) on deck as they pull into Sydney, 1928)
And this made me think: Ivie Anderson! Best known (in my world) as a singer with Duke Ellington's band. So I did a crappy search of my music (using the wrong date) to see if she recorded with Ellington during this period. I also scanned the photo carefully to see if I recognised her. I was, pretty much, guessing. But I was using photos of Anderson I found online to try and compare them with the women in those two original photos.
TheSwingDJ beat me to it with this link to a source many Swing DJs use quite often. That entry for Anderson includes:
Born in California, young Ivie received vocal training at her local St. Mary's Convent and later spent two years studying with Sara Ritt in Washington, DC. Returning home she found work with Curtis Mosby, Paul Howard, Sonny Clay, and briefly with Anson Weeks at the Mark Hopkins Hotel in Los Angeles. She also found work in vaudeville, touring the country as a dancer and vocalist in the Fanchon and Marco revue, starring Mamie Smith, and with the Shuffle Along revue. She was featured vocalist at the Culver City Cotton Club before leaving to tour Australia in 1928 with Sonny Clay. Returning after five months down under she organized her own show and toured the U.S. In 1930 she found work with Earl Hines.It was while appearing with Hines that Ellington first heard her sing. He hired her in February 1931, and she quickly became a fixture of the orchestra's sound.
(I've bolded the important bits.)
At this point, we're still thinking about and looking up sources. Meanwhile, colleagues from the CCC at UQ have chimed in about the author of that blog, discussions about archiving this sort of research are happening, I'm listening to 1930s Ellington featuring Ivie Anderson and I'm just about to look up youtube for some clips of Anderson to see if I can check her out more thoroughly.
But first, I think I'll go dancing.
(srsly)
"digital resources... mostly" was posted in the category djing and lindy hop and other dances and music and people i know and research
magazine themed jazz prn
Posted by dogpossum on February 16, 2010 11:44 AM | Comments (0)
Magazine-themed prn from the 'Jam Session' pics in the Google/Life set Gjon Mili did for Esquire:
(NB that little group in the bottom left hand corner are from Vogue magazine.)
Mili of course made Jumpin' the Blues, and also this freekin great clip of rockstars:
"magazine themed jazz prn" was posted in the category cat blogging and fillums and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
lists and canons in jazz
Posted by dogpossum on February 16, 2010 11:18 AM | Comments (0)
An interesting discussion has cropped up on SwingDJs called "30 Good Hot Records" from LIFE. This is what I'm about to post in response.
I love lists of iconic or 'good' songs/books/films/texts. I love them because though they are presented as definitive, they are always[ more effective as a provocation than a definitive answer to questions about what counts and is important enough to be listed. Discograhies work, pretty much, as definitive 'lists' or 'canons'.
I've come across a few different uses of 'hot' in articles and books from the 1930s, particularly in reference to discographies. Kenney's discussion of jazz in Chicago outlines the differences between 'jazz' or 'hot' bands and music and 'dance' bands. These differences are not only musical, but also inflected by race, class, the recording industry, live venue management and ownership, gender... and so on. I've also come across quite a few discussions in an academic (rather than populist or 'music critic') sources about the expression 'hot jazz'. The most useful sources point out that any attempt to finally define 'hot' or 'jazz' is not only difficult, but also problematic.
Krin Gabbard discusses the cultural effects of constructing canons - in which discographies play a key role - and points out that lists of 'hot' or 'important' or 'real' jazz records aren't neutral or objective lists of songs - they are highly subjective and negotiated by the author's own ideas about music and place in society generally.
Kenney (who's written some absolutely fascinating stuff about jazz music in Chicago in the 20s) discusses Brian Rust's discographies, making the point that Rust distinguishes between 'hot' and other types of jazz recordings. Friedwald talks a bit about Rust (and other discographers) in his jazz.com articles. Kenney's research into the recording and live music industry in Chicago suggests that who got to record or play what types of music was actually dictated in large part by record companies' ideas about race and class and markets rather than musicians' personal inclination. That last point suggests that you could make some interesting observations about the correlation between race, class, recorded songs, 'popularity' and 'jazz' in Chicago jazz during this period. I don't know enough about it, though, so all I'll say is that you could, but you'd better have some badass sources to support your arguments. And you'd also better be prepared to accept the idea that though America had a national music industry, different state legislations and music cultures resulted in quite different local practices: it'd be tricky to generalise Chicago's story across other cities and states. Not to mention countries.
Life and other magazines' comments on and participation in music promotion in the 30s is also pretty interesting - these guys had ideological barrows to push, just as did Rust and other discographers. One of the effects of publishing this type of list (which was no doubt as hotly contested then as it is now - except by a wider audience :D) is that it does stimulate discussion and debate. And, hopefully, record and ticket sales. One thing I'd be interested in knowing is who owned Life
As an example, every time I see that Great Day In Jazz photo, I think about the fact that it was a photo for Esquire magazine, and that Esquire also produced a series of live concerts, recordings... and of course, photo spreads in magazines. While GDIJ works a fabulous representation of jazz it also serves as a canon, and as such is also subjective, ideologically framed and interpreted (eg asking why are there so few women in this photo leads us to questions about gender and jazz?) Canons are fascinating things, and can be the jumping off place for all sorts of great discussions and debates. I think this is why I was so excited by Reynaud's session on Yehoodi Radio where he used the GDIJ photo as an organising structure for the music he chose. In that case, the photo became a listening guide for a radio program. I'd just rather not use them as definitive, fixed lists; I like them more as provocations, or a place from which to begin discussing (and arguing about) a topic.
If I saw a list like the one in Life today, I'd be extra-suspicious. Songs on So You Think You Can Dance, for example, are owned by the company which produces that tv show. There's been quite a lot written about the Ken Burns' Jazz series and its role in cross-promoting sales of records from catalogues owned by the same media corporation. The Ken Burns example is an especially interesting one: that series does not present an 'objective' list of important artists and songs. It is a jumping off place for a very successful marketing project surrounding back catalogues and contemporary musicians like Marsalis. George Lipsitz has written quite a bit about histories of jazz (including Burns'), and he makes this point:
...the film is a spectator's story aimed at generating a canon to be consumed. Viewers are not encouraged to make jazz music, to support contemporary jazz artists, or even to advocate jazz education. But they are urged to buy the nine-part home video version of Jazz produced and distributed by Time Warner AOL, the nearly twenty albums of recorded music on Columbia/Sony promoting the show's artists and 'greatest hits,' and the book published by Knopf as a companion to the broadcast of the television program underwritten by General Motors. Thus a film purporting to honor modernist innovation actually promotes nostalgic satisfaction. The film celebrates the centrality of African Americans to the national experience but voices no demands for either rights or recognition on behalf of contemporary African American people. The film venerates the struggles of alienated artists to rise above the formulaic patterns of commercial culture, but comes into existence and enjoys wide exposure only because it works so well to augment the commercial reach and scope of a fully integrated marketing campaign linking 'educational' public television to media conglomerates. (17)
Lipsitz is interesting because he says thinks like Why not think about jazz as a history of dance? Why not look into the lives of musicians who gave up fame and fortune in massively famous bands to work in their local communities?
Friedwald, Will. "On Discography" www.jazz.com, May 27, 2009 http://www.jazz.com/jazz-blog/2009/5/27/on-discography
Gabbard, Krin. "The Jazz Canon and its consequences" Jazz Among the Discourses. Duke U Press, Durham and London 1995. 1-28.
Kenney, William Howland. "Historical Context and the Definition of Jazz: Putting More of the History in 'Jazz History'". Jazz Among the Discourses. Duke U Press, Durham and London 1995. 100-116
Lipsitz, George. "Songs of the Unsung: The Darby Hicks History of Jazz," Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O'Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004: 9-26.
References for my posts on Esquire.
"lists and canons in jazz" was posted in the category cat blogging and djing and fillums and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
December 12, 2009
thinking about victoria spivey and discographies as historical resources
Posted by dogpossum on December 12, 2009 11:17 AM | Comments (0)
I've recently come across some Victoria Spivey songs quite by accident. I have quite a few by her, but mostly bits and pieces from various compilations. I haven't put any effort into collecting her, in part because my resources are limited and in the other part because my attention was caught by Bessie Smith. I also tend to prioritise 'songs for lindy hopping' in my purchasing.
I came across some Spivey songs in a Henry Red Allen JSP (I think) set from emusic. It's also on one of the Complete Jazz Series, and I think the latter versions are slightly better quality. On both it was just labelled 'Henry Red Allen and his orch' I think. I found the additional details in the discography at the library. Listed under Victoria Spivey, she did quite a few sessions in New York 1928 with Clarence Williams etc, and then in 1929 she did some stuff in New York again with some really big guns. Below are the discographic details for the sessions that caught my interest:
Victoria Spivey
[S10354] Victoria Spivey (vcl) acc by Louis Armstrong (tp) Fred Robinson (tb) Jimmy Strong (ts) Gene Anderson (p) Mancy Cara (bj) Zutty Singleton (d)
New York, July 10 1929
40252-C Funny feathers
Okeh 8713, Swag (Aus) 1267, 1310, Col C3L-33, Odeon (F)7MOE-2250, Par (E)PMC7144, CBS (F)65421, (Jap)SL-1209/10/11
402526-A How do you do it that way?
Okeh 8713, Swag (Aus) 1267, S1310, Odeon (F)7MOE-2250, Par (E)PMC7144, CBS (F)65421, Spivey LP2001, Jass 5, Biograph BLP C5, Book of the Month Club 21-6547
[there are details about where these songs were published]
[S10355] Victoria Spivey (vcl) acc by Henry "Red Allen" (tp) J.C. Higginbotham (tb) Charlie Holmes (sop) Teddy Hill (ts-1) Luis Russell (p) Wil Johnson (g) Pops Foster (b,tu-2)
New York, October 1, 1929
56732-1 Bloodhound blues (1)
[with recording details I can't be arsed typing out]
56733-2 Dirty T.B. Blues (1)
56734-1 Moaning the blues (1)
56735-1 Telephoning the blues
[there are details about where these songs were published]
When you go to the Henry Red Allen entry, you find him in New York in the same months (July and October of 1929) recording with mostly the same musicians. Luis Russell is the one that catches my eye, mostly because he's (one of) the connections between Allen and Armstrong, leading a band which starred both of them at some points in the 30s.
Here are the details of recordings from the Henry Red Allen entry:
[A1573] Henry Red Allen (tp,vcl) J.C. Higginbotham (tb) Albert Nicholas (cl) Charlie Holmes (sop, cl, as) Teddy Hill (ts, cl) Luis Russell (p, celeste) Wil Johnson (g, bj, vcl) Pops Foster (b) Paul Barbarin (d, vib), Victoria Spivey (vcl) and the Four Wanderers (vcl quartet) added: Herman Hughes, Charlie Clinscales, (tenor), Maceo Johnson (bariton) Olivier Childs (bass)
New York, September 24, 1929
55852-1 Make a country bird fly wild (tfw vcl)
[with recording details I can't be arsed typing out]
55852-2 Make a country bird fly wild (tfw vcl)
55853-1 Funny feathers blues (vs vcl)
55853-2 Funny feathers blues (vs vcl)
55854-1 How do they do it that way (vs vcl)
55855-1 Pleasin' Paul
55855-2 Pleasin' Paul
[there are details about where these songs were published]
I think the sessions under Spivey's own name were the best for blues dancing, though really it's a matter of taste.
FYI, if you're trying to find all the recordings by a particular musician, you use the Musician's Index (if you're using the books rather than the online or CD Rom version of the discography) to find all the page and recording session details for each song featuring that musician. When you're looking at someone like Louis Armstrong, that can get tedious very quickly. In his case, there're whole books devoted just to his discographies. But people like Henry Red Allen (and Eddie Condon) tend to ramble across dozens and dozens of bands and hundreds of individual songs. You tend to get a feel for a particular musician, and you realise that they played in a whole range of bands in a particular city at any particular time. This gets really interesting, particularly when they're using pseudonyms to escape restrictive recording contracts with particular labels.
Just looking up 'Henry Red Allen', for example, won't get you all his recordings. But it will get you the recordings which are credited to him, or recorded by bands with his name attached (eg Henry Red Allen and his Orchestra). This sort of attribution gets interesting when you look at artists like Spivey, who had some of the biggest names in jazz listed as her accompanists.
You can see how I get interested in the relationship between blues and 'jazz' or 'swing' when I'm doing this digging in the discographies. Surely accompanying these singers (and they were accompanying, particularly when it came to people like Bessie Smith) influenced their music in significant ways. And these big names in jazz influenced other musicians - particularly when we're talking about people like Louis Armstrong or Allen.
Spivey is interesting because she was not only a seriously famous singer in the 20s, she also managed to survive the declining popularity of blues at the end of the 20s. She did interesting things like play in the Hellzapoppin' stage review (not the film, lindy hoppers, the stage review from which material for the film was drawn) and found her own record company, Spivey Records in the 60s. It was with this label that she recorded Bob Dylan as an accompanist.
I'm fascinated by the idea that you can chart the relationships between musicians in a particular city by using the discographies. All you have to go on is the city, date, song title and musicians. Which is a surprisingly useful amount of information. My attention is caught by the names which turn up all over the place, in all sorts of bands. Zutty Singleton. Paul Barbarin. Buster Bailey. Peanuts Hucko. People I didn't know before I started looking through the discographies. Now I find that following these guys through the Chronological Classics or Complete Jazz Series gives me an overview of a particular city or style during a certain time frame. So if I follow Zutty Singleton through a particular year on CD, I'll hear a range of bands. And I can speculate about the professional relationships between bands and the way creative ideas spread between bands.
Of course, all this information is really only dealing with recorded performances. Though this does include a massive amount of recorded broadcasts and live performances (particularly in the 1930s), we're really only looking at formal recording sessions in the 20s. I always wonder what went on around these sessions. Who did they meet at the restaurant where they had dinner afterwards? Did they go for drinks with the band who'd been in there before? Who sat in on the following sessions to make up numbers or simply out of musical interest? Did these things even happen?
And of course I can't help but think about the race stuff going on. I notice things like particular bands having personnel with names of particular cultural backgrounds. German or European names in Benny Goodman's bands. Italian names in New Orleans bands. Anglicised names in Chicago. Certain names are more common in African American bands than in Anglo-American bands.
There are hardly any mixed-race recordings, so when they do pop up, my interest is immediately caught. And of course, when you get into the French recordings of artists like Bill Coleman, Coleman Hawkins, the remnants of Glenn Miller's band in 1945, you see familiar American names teaming up with French artists. Glenn Miller's former bandmates (Peanuts Hucko, Mel Powell, Joe Schulman, Ray McKinley) are joined by Django Reinhardt.
All this is super-interesting. And that's just the information you can gain from reading through the discographies. When you listen along with the discographies, tracing particular sessions and particular combinations of musicians, you can hear musical developments and experimentations expanding and changing an individual musician's style. Arrangers become much more important. Listening across bands (following a particular musician rather than a band), you hear similarities within a single year. And when you add to that the fact that many bands recorded the same songs in the same year, you hear each of these little moments in creative time explored within the framework of a single composition, arranged in countless ways, exploded by solos and improvisations.
When you think of the music that wasn't recorded, of all the live performances on stages and in back rooms and kitchens, you realise that music was not only everywhere, but that these were communities of musicians, complicated networks forged by the act of making music. And money.
And, finally, in all of this, if I do come across a female name anywhere other than in the vocals, I'm flabbergasted. This is a world of men. Or so you'd assume, if you relied only on the discographies. There were plenty of women in these pictures, just not dug into the grooves on the record. There were women playing and writing and recording music, women running offices, making dinners, washing clothes. It's just that you can't hear them on the records, unless you listen very closely.
Refs:
Lord Jazz Discography
This is an interesting piece about Henry Red Allen.
Red Hot Jazz.
"thinking about victoria spivey and discographies as historical resources" was posted in the category ideas and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
September 10, 2009
tweet
Posted by dogpossum on September 10, 2009 1:13 PM | Comments (0)
I think I'd like to be sewing. Or going to the gallery. Or nerding it up in the library. I think the library is going to win. Again.
"tweet" was posted in the category research
July 16, 2009
amiri baraka at last
Posted by dogpossum on July 16, 2009 2:31 PM | Comments (2)
Finally, I've made it to Amiri Baraka (aka LeRoi Jones). It's taken way too long.
I've just read this: Jazz and the White Jazz Critic. I didn't read it there (in a google books page that make me suddenly think 'what the fuck do we bother with publishers and book deals? All our rights as authors are dead with this one new technology... which really just does as the photocopier did for us all 20 years ago, but faster). I read it in a paper book.
And I got excited.
And then I went here and read that story. But mostly I looked at the youtube clip and got a bit excited.
I recommend the Jazz and White Critics article, as it sums up my misgivings about the jazznick fanmags and magazines and newsletters and recreationists.
Here's one bit I like:
There were few ‘jazz critics’ in America at all until the ‘30s and then they were influenced to a large extent by what Richard Hadlock has called ‘the carefully documented gee-whiz attitude’ of the first serious European jazz critics. They were also, as a matter of course, influenced more deeply by the social and cultural mores of their own society. And it is only natural that their criticism, whatever its intentions, should be a product of that society, or should reflect at least some of the attitudes and thinking of that society, even if not directly related to the subject they were writing about, Negro music (Baraka 138).
And here's another:
Most jazz critics began as hobbyists or boyishly brash members of the American petite bourgeoisie, whose only claim to any understanding about the music was that they knew it was different; or else they had once been brave enough to make a trip into a Negro slum to hear their favorite instrumentalists defame Western musical tradition. Most jazz critics were (and are) not only white middle-class Americans, but middle-brows as well (Baraka 140.)
This article is important because it was written by a black man in the 60s, and published in Down Beat magazine. I can't remember whether Down Beat was moldy fig or modernist, but I think it was the latter. I cannot tell you how rare it is to come across a commentary by a black writer on jazz from the 60s or earlier. Doing all this reading of 'jazz histories' I'm beginning to think I might have to kill myself. It's tedious. I like Baraka's comment about 'gee-whiz' approaches to jazz. I was just saying to The Squeeze the other day that I'd have liked one of these guys to stop gushing about how wonderful jazz is, and to actually open their freakin eyes and see what's going on around and beside the music. Hells, even in the music!
I'm gearing up for Blues People and will report back later.
"amiri baraka at last" was posted in the category cat blogging and ideas and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
July 14, 2009
jjj's hottest 100: where was Lil Armstrong?!
Posted by dogpossum on July 14, 2009 2:01 PM
John has posted an interesting piece about JJJ's Hottest 100 and I thought I'd better comment at length here rather than cluttering up the comments thread there. I will annotate for those who haven't been following the twitterati/bloggy chat.
[Point raised by others: the hottest 100 was a bit 90s-nostalgia trip for blokes who were teenagers in the 90s]
JJJ and Rage have always felt a bit 90s-nostalgia to me. But perhaps that's because the 90s were about the last time I listened to mainstream music...
I was wondering where Blondie, Siouxie and the Banshees and other punker chicks were at in the hottest 100?
[This is where I get into some stuff I've been thinking about]
To be honest, I wouldn't really expect JJJ's list of 'hottest 100' songs to come up with anything particularly inclusive or properly representative of rock (let alone the broader music world). It's a list made by listeners of one particular (state funded national) radio station in one particular historical moment, so audience demographics, radio playlists and radio/record company relationships are going to be the guiding factors.
I'd be more interested in 4ZZZ's list - localised indy music? Or in comparing hottest 100 lists from different radio stations and then different media sources generally.
[Here I address a bigger couple of issues]
Someone noted that I should respect the opinions of the women voting in the hottest 100. If not, wouldn't that also be neglecting women's contributions?
My response is that this approach simply accepts the broader social and institutional factors that have lead us to this point. It is more the case that the hottest 100 and the way it is run and organised is at fault, and that it's more useful to discuss the way the music industry works, and to think about the audiences of JJJ and popular music generally. In other words, I do not accept the premise of the question - that it is not JJJ that is at fault, but women (and their voting or failure to rock).
Firstly, here's a point that's been raised by a couple of books I've been reading about women in jazz (Placksin and Dahl, primarily):
women have been making music forever. It's just that the music industry has not recognised this. Both Placksin and Dahl point out that the profound absence of women in jazz histories is in fact a complete fallacy. There are and have always been plenty of women in jazz. It's just that they haven't been scoring recording contracts, haven't had properly managed careers, haven't been promoted or even hired by venues or band leaders, and haven't even been allowed into bands in many cases. Placksin and Dahl produce a massive list of fully sick jazznick sisters, and make the point that there _were_ plenty of women in jazz. We just have to look beyond the popularly accepted myths about jazz history.
So, in reference to the Hottest 100, there are heaps of women who rock. It's just that people aren't seeing or hearing them. Who are these people?
a) the DJs playing music on the radio,
b) the station programmers making up playlists,
c) the record company promotions teams who aren't sending promo material to radio stations,
d) the record companies who aren't putting women musicians under contract,
e) the company and radio peeps who aren't looking beyond their own memories of the music world - they're not actually getting into the library to see what's there,
f) the audiences of these radio stations who are (voting) and buying/listening to music,
g) and of course the machinery of live music, where bands get their starts - the venues and festivals and so on simply aren't giving chicks a go. If women even feel comfortable asking.
So, there are fully sick women musicians.
There are fully sick women musicians who rock.
There are fully sick women musicians being recorded.
There are fully sick women musicians playing live gigs all the time.
It's more that the problem is with the music industry not promoting their music, and that the music industry itself is inimical to any type of professionalism which is not aggressive, competitive, misogynist, etc. It's not that it's even a masculinist culture; it's more that a particular set of skills and personality traits are required. And these tend to coincide with hegemomic masculinity.
Sigh. Just once, I'd like this not to be about the goddamn fucking patriarchy. Or capitalism.
[This is where I think about industrial and cultural factors which might prevent/discourage women from getting into bands/rock]
I was just reading an interesting discussion of the way different instruments are perceived as 'female' or 'male' (Dahl). This was an issue in the 20s and 30s - there's a famous quote from Jelly Roll Morton where he states that there was some concern that playing the piano would sissify him (and this from such an aggressively heterosexual man). Looking through jazz history for women musicians who played instruments (other than vocals), there's a preponderance of pianists. In the 10s, 20s and 30s the piano was an acceptably ladylike instrument, as was the voice. This is not to say that there weren't women playing guitars, trombones, trumpets (the most masculine of 1930s instruments), etc. It's just that they weren't recorded and didn't feature on stage in a big way until the war years, when all-girl bands became a novelty. Even though bands like the International Sweethearts of Rhythm were massively badass, and bands led by people like Lil Hardin Armstrong had a very long history of badassery and fully sick jazz roots and cred.
I wonder if 90s grunge was important for stimulating a garage band phenomenon which offered young blokes something else to do in the garage beyond fiddling about with cars? There's also that story about Seattle's climate facilitating the development of such a vibrant live music scene (similar comments are made about lindy hop today - Seattle has a massive lindy scene, in part - I suspect - because indoor activities suit rainy, miserable weather). But part of me is sure that all the time spent fiddling about with instruments has something to do with the way girls and boys are encouraged to spend their leisure time - domestic duties for girls, guitars for boys?
[Here is where I testify and you hear a lot about me. And me.]
I spend quite a bit of time in music shops (usually the DJ Warehouse, but often a music store when I'm looking for cables), and I am almost always (as in 99.99% of the time) the only woman in there. I've never dealt with a female retail worker. I have the same experience in jazz music shops. I don't mind this, really. I'm used to being around blokes, and I'm not exactly your conventionally feminine chick. I'm not adverse to kicking arse and taking names. But more importantly, I'm stubborn and determined, and it'll take more than a cock to distract me from purchasing the perfect headphones.
I'm a DJ rather than a musician, and the mainstream DJing scene seems just as male-dominated as the band scene. In swing (where I'm DJing), most top tier DJs are male, whereas the gender divide is fairly even in the everyday, bread and butter DJing. ie, women and men are doing the everyday DJing for regular events (keeping the local scenes going), but there are very, very few women at the top end, doing the big name interstate and international DJing.
Sound familiar? Looks like there are glass ceilings in the swinguverse too.
This is partly because of social/cultural factors: DJing is an intimidating world, with an emphasis on technology and a fairly intimidating culture. Women DJs are no more collaborative and supportive of new DJs than male (I've found), but they're less likely to speak up in online DJing talk and less likely to pursue a DJing career aggressively. They do good community stuff, men can do good community stuff, but male DJs tend to have the skills and appproach required by professional DJing.
Economics are also important. DJing requires:
- A fairly steady income (which can be frittered away on music, software, hardware, etc),
- copious amounts of time (to spend cataloguing music, dealing with tossers in music shops, practicing, learning to use technology, researching music, participating in online DJ talk (networking, skilling up, etc), etc).
Basically, you need time and money to get a certain skill and experience base.
- Actually getting gigs also demands some serious networking, and it's very masculine, male-dominated networking: you have to really work hard to get into the gang if you want good, high profile, paid gigs.
Working conditions are challenging.
- Once you're actually there, the hours are hard (late nights, long hours, lots of coming home late by yourself), dealing with the technology can be challenging (working in shitty venues with shitty gear) and there's quite a bit of pressure - you're responsible for entertaining a bunch of dancers, you have to be assertive enough to not get screwed over by event coordinators and also confident enough to put your hand up for challenging gigs.
All of these are the usual, familiar issues facing women in employment. I think that many of these issues face women in bands as well. While no one in the swinguverse has ever said (or even implied) to me that women shouldn't be DJs (like to see them try), the work and role are heavily gendered in the sort of sneaky, invisible way that we see in many other industries.
And girls in bands, of course, have to deal with record companies, with PR machinery, with radio networks, with the importance of visual presentation (ie what they look like), video clips, etc etc etc.
Add all this to the fact that a large proportion of teenage blokes have been trained to think of women only as boobs with legs, should we be at all surprised that JJJ's Hottest 100 didn't sport a higher proportion any women?
Fuck, I'm surprised. And it'll be a sad day when we stop commenting.
Blogging commentary:
The Hoydens have had at it already.
Stubborn mule has given us some figures re the list's favouring the 90s.
John brings it (after a long stream of interesting tweetage, btw).
Something to remind you:
What is male privilege? (I have to add: even writing that makes me cringe in anticipation of a kick from some bloke. I've spent far too long in the swing world, which is so scarily patriarchal even I've absorbed it. egads.)
Book references:
Dahl, Linda. Stormy Weather: the Music and Lives of a Century of Jazz Women. Limelight: NY, 1992.
Placksin, Sally. Jazzwomen: 1900 to the Present. Pluto Press: London and Sydney, 1982.
"jjj's hottest 100: where was Lil Armstrong?!" was posted in the category djing and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
July 7, 2009
violence and film and blues
Posted by dogpossum on July 7, 2009 1:21 PM | Comments (1)
Reading Gussow's book about racial violence in southern America, I wonder why I keep coming back to violence. My honours thesis discussed female violence in film, and this book really is about violence in blues music. Both are about violence from the perspective of the disempowered; one discussing women, one black men and women in America.
I'm not comfortable with this stuff - I don't like stories about violence, I don't like watching it in film. But both seem linked to hopelessness. Violence for the women in the films I discussed was a last resort or an act of desperation. In the blues songs I'm reading about now, violence is either to be borne or to be perpetrated in revenge or rage or desperation. Both are domestic or carried out in ordinary, everyday spaces.
In my honours thesis I was interested in what happened to female characters when their acts of violence were institutionalised or sanctioned by institutions in the role of assassin. In these blues songs, we are continually reminded that white men were perpetrators of violence which was ignored by the state or unofficially condoned - or at least ignored. These acts of violence contrast clearly with the violence of waged war. I'm interested in the way some types of violence are sanctioned by the community and some not. And who gets to enact this 'sanctioned' violence. You know, of course, that class and gender and race are at work here.
One of the other elements of these representations of violence is the role of fantasy, or imagined violence. In the blues song, it might be an imagined retribution for a lover's deceit, or for a lynching. Music allows the playing out of ideas or fantasies, and the public performance of this music encourages an attentive, participatory audience. It is not enough simply to imagine; it is necessary that the imagined violence be laid out and commented upon by the broader community.
"violence and film and blues" was posted in the category fillums and ideas and music and research
July 6, 2009
what again?! I'm still crapping on about dance, power, etc
Posted by dogpossum on July 6, 2009 3:59 PM
I'm refining and developing these ideas. So I'm just going to keep writing and posting these same points. Over and over again.
One of the more interesting discussions I've read about derision dance (from Jacqui Malone's book I think) discussed derision dance in African American dance as a way of responding to white power/black disempowerment 'under the radar'. In other words, the cake walk (or whichever example you're using) allowed dancers to deride or mock whites surrepticiously or indirectly. To 'get the joke' you had to recognise who was being mocked, and how the mocking was intended.
This sort of idea comes up in a number of different cultural practices across cultures. I've read a bit about satire and humour and derision-through-impersonating-for-humour's-sake.
I'm reading this book at the moment:
(Seems Like Murder Here: Southern Violence and the blues Tradition by Adam Gussow.
Gussow is a a blues musician who's interested in violence and the blues. One of his central arguments is that the blues (as in blues music - both sung and instrumental) gave black musicians access to a 'blues subject'
who then found ways, more or less covert, of singing back to that ever-hovering threat. Although blues scholars have long claimed that blues singers remained self-protectively mute on the issue of white mob violence, lynching makes its presence felt in various ways throughout the blues tradition: not just as veiled references in blues lyrics and as jokes recounted by blues musicians...
Gussow discusses the fact that black responses to white violence (in southern America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries) were limited by necessity. In the simplest terms, if you fought back, if you responded to white violence, then white retaliation would come ten-fold. Without this 'right of response' (legal or otherwise), music offered a way of dealing, publicly with violence. Albert Murray talks about singing the blues as a way of 'stomping' the blues - of sharing woe and therefore easing its burdensome weight. The idea with singing a song that implies lynching or violence (ie you might simply sing 'I have the blues, my body is broken') is that you share your pain and frustration without directly inviting white censure. Singing and music allow you to sneakily respond, but without risking violent retribution.
Gussow begins his book with a comment from the book What is Life? Reclaiming the Black Blues Self by Kalamu ya Salaam:
[W]e laugh loud and heartily when every rational expectation suggests that we should be crying in despair. [T]he combination of exaggeration and conscious recognition of the brutal facts of life is the basis for the humour of blues people (Gussow x)
So in these cases making jokes when it seems impossible to laugh is an important part of subverting white power and violence. Simply being able to laugh is a way of saying "I am not beaten down". The joke part is an extension of the sneakiness of singing about violence indirectly, of responding indirectly when direct responses could get you killed. Humour is of course utterly subversive and powerful in this sort of setting.
The sort of violence Gussow talks about in Seems Like Murder Here is a fairly extreme example (though I highly recommend the book - it's disturbing but also fascinating), but it makes the point that humour through music can work as humour in dance does. By hiding your true meaning or intention under a layer of melody or rhythm, you can say subversive things, do subversive things and reclaim some control over your life and public discourse. You mightn't be able to speak out, but you can sing out.
I'm particularly keen on the idea of multiple layers of meaning. The cake walk can function just as silly clowning. But (as every clown knows), the surface humour hides something deeper and more subversive. While at first glance the black clown appears as the butt of the joke to white audiences (of the day), to white dancers and observers, the butt of the joke lies elsewhere. Tommy deFrantz writes in Dancing Many Drums that, when faced with white forbidding of black religious dance,
serious dancing went underground, and dances which carried significant aesthetic information became disguised or hidden from public view. For white audiences, the black man’s dancing body came to carry only the information on its surface (DeFrantz, discussing black masculinity in dance 107).
I've also heard similar discussions from aboriginal Australian elders discussing religious dance. While some dances are strictly for women or men or older women or older men or not to be seen at all, under any circumstances by the uninitiated, the meaning of a sacred dance can be hidden in plain sight. The uninitiated, watching a sacred dance (or looking at a sacred image in a painting) doesn't have access the important, sacred meaning, simply because they haven't been initiated, and therefore don't understand what they're looking at. They look, but cannot see.
I think it's important to say here, though, that having control over who looks at your body (dancing or otherwise) is a matter of power. I've been thinking about it in reference to film and how we give permission to have our own image photographed or filmed (and I repeatedly return to an article on the Warlpiri Media Collective's siteabout managing access to sacred or even just private space in indigenous Australian communities). But discussions about, for example, women's rights to control who looks at their bodies has just as long a history as white occupation of Australia. It is, after all, a similar discussion about occupation, colonialism and the power of the gaze.
I've read some interesting discussions about this in music in other places as well. There's quite a bit of discussion about Louis Armstrong and his 'mugging' or 'uncle tomming' for white audiences. Krin Gabbard discusses Armstrong's work with Duke Ellington, including the filming of Paris Blues (in which Armstrong starred, and for which Ellington contributed the score) and the recording of the 'Summit' sessions:
…at those moments in the film when he [Armstrong] seems most eager to please with his vocal performances, his mugging is sufficiently exaggerated to suggest an ulterior motive. Lester Bowie has suggested that Armstrong is essentially “slipping a little poison into the coffee†of those who think they are watching a harmless darkie….Throughout his career in films, Armstrong continued to subvert received notions of African American identity, signifying on the camera while creating a style of trumpet performance that was virile, erotic, dramatic, and playful. No other black entertainer of Armstrong’s generation â€" with the possible exception of Ellington â€" brought so much intensity and charisma to his performances. But because Armstrong did not change his masculine presentation after the 1920s, many of his gestures became obsolete and lost their revolutionary edge. For many black and white Americans in the 1950s and 1960s, he was an embarrassment. In the early days of the twenty-first century, when Armstrong is regularly cast as a heroicized figure in the increasingly heroicising narrative of jazz history, we should remember that he was regularly asked to play the buffoon when he appeared on films and television (Gabbard 298).
Gabbard continues the point here:
...Armstrong plays the trickster. Armstrong’s tricksterisms were an essential part of his performance persona. On one level, Armstrong’s grinning, mugging, and exaggerated body language made him a much more congenial presence, especially to racist audiences who might otherwise have found so confident a performer to be disturbing, to say the least. When Armstrong put his trumpet to his lips, however, he was all business. The servile gestures disappeared as he held his trumpet erect and flaunted his virtuosity, power, and imagination (Gabbard 298).
Again, there's this idea of layers of meaning. On the one hand, Armstrong appears as the smiling, 'safe' black man, entertaining white audiences with clowning. But on the other, his sheer musical talent empowers him and defies his reduction to 'harmless' clown.
There's quite a bit written about black masculinity and layers of meaning in musical and dance performances, but I'm especially interested in women in all this. Gussow has a fascinating paper about Mamie Smith's song 'Crazy Blues' (which is in that book). And Angela Yuval Davis talks about lyrics and women's blues performances and power.
Ultimately, though, the idea of layers of meaning is important to a discussion of African American dance. Any one dance can yield a whole host of meanings or interpretations. And at times it's important to hide the most subversive or dangerous meanings way down inside, where you need a lived experience with violence and disempowerment to really understand or to 'get' the joke.
Here's my current absolute favourite example of layers of meaning in dance. This is a scene from a musical stage play version of the book The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Most of us are more familiar with the film version (with its wondeful music) and with Oprah's interest in the story/film.
On one level it's very much 'classical' musical stage play fare - 'singing', dancing, 'period' costumes (late 19th, early 20th century), young black men with phenomenal dancing ability performing a 'light hearted' song about 'love'. That's the straight reading (well, almost straight). It looks quite a bit like some of the clips we watch for lindy hop or jazz dance dance from the 30s and 40s. Almost.
But it takes on a different meaning when you've seen this.
Immediately, another layer of meaning can be found in that first clip. Men dancing a 'woman's' song. Add the fact that this is a contemporary stage play, not a piece from the 30s or 40s. The lyrics, the movements of the dancers all gain new levels of meaning. The reading is 'queered up', not only in terms of sexuality (gay? straight? tranny? wuh?), but in terms of power and gaze. The Color Purple is a story about gender and power and race and ethnicity and class. It's themes and story are heartbreaking in parts. And yet here are three gorgeous young blokes performing a dance which invites a smile or a laugh. It's 'queer' in that it's played 'straight'. The dancers are dancing 'seriously', but the entire performance seems unusual, something is happening here, below the surface. Actually, not below the surface. It's right there, in your face. Making you want to dance. This sort of performance is often talked about in critical literature as provoking a sense of unease in the audience - should I laugh? Or is that wrong, considering the story of The Color Purple? This unease or anxiety centres on issues of sexuality, gender, class, ethnicity, etc etc etc. In some ways, this is what makes the performance so powerful. You can enjoy it simply as badass dancing. But you can also left wondering what it means. And context is everything. Watching from an expensive seat in a huge concert theatre is a little different from watching from the audience with different vested interests:
Link.
I like the second version because it's not a quiet audience, sitting and listening quietly and politely. It's a loud, rowdy audience interacting with the dancers. It's ok to laugh, to cheer, to want to dance with them, to enjoy the show. The audience are part of the performance. The 'mistake' where one dancer drops his hat becomes a chance to demonstrate their ability to improvise, to work it for a crowd. Three men dancing the overtly sexualised, feminised steps from Beyonce's clip changes the meaning of the movements. It changes the way their bodies are sexualised or regarded as sexualised bodies. It's 'feminine' movement, but this is definitely a performance of masculinity and masculine sexuality. Just not a terribly straight or mainstream one. And when the women appear on stage, all this gets tipped over again.
Is it derision, though? I think it's more complicated. But it makes a point that we can apply to cake walk. On one hand, it can be read as 'straight', fabulous dancing. But it can also be read as clowning or buffooning. Or it can be read as queer-as-fuck politics. Or sexed-up awesomeness. Or race politics. Or mocking Beyonce. Or celebrating Beyonce. It's imitation and flattery and derision and commentary. It's complicatedness invites us to engage and to look for layers of meaning. Which of course is the point: one dance becomes a discourse, a discussion, rather than a monologue.
Davis, Angela Y. Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude "Ma" Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday. Toronto: Random House, 1998.
DeFrantz, Thomas. "The Black Male Body in Concert Dance." Moving Words: Re-Writing Dance. Ed. Gay Morris. London and New York: Routledge, 1996. 107 -
20.
Gabbard, Krin. “Paris Blues: Ellington, Armstrong, and Saying It with Musicâ€. Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 297-311.
Malone, Jacqui. Steppin' on the Blues: The Visible Rhythms of African American Dance. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1996.
Murray, Albert. Stomping the Blues. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1976.
"what again?! I'm still crapping on about dance, power, etc" was posted in the category ideas and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
June 4, 2009
more Esquire talk
Posted by dogpossum on June 4, 2009 1:04 PM | Comments (0)
Billie Holiday at the Met in 1944 as part of the Esquire All Stars concert (by GJon Mili from the Life series).
Other Esquire posts (mostly for my own remembering):
magazines, jazz, masculinity, mess
jam session photography
pop culture, jazz and ethnicity
it is a dj!
"more Esquire talk" was posted in the category music and research
queens jazz trail map
Posted by dogpossum on June 4, 2009 12:40 PM | Comments (0)
The Queens Jazz Trail Map is one that pops up almost every time google 'jazz map history'. Particular to one part of New York, this map is hand-drawn.
It is, however, only one of a number of jazz-related maps from Ephemera press (and I like the name - what are historical maps, if not an attempt to pin down the past?). I think I prefer the Harlem Renaissance one:
"queens jazz trail map" was posted in the category maps and music and research
more jazz maps
Posted by dogpossum on June 4, 2009 12:17 PM | Comments (0)
This site has a series of maps of Chicago listing jazz clubs. I haven't had a chance to look through it carefully, yet, but I think I'm going to go back and read it in tandem with the Kenney article (Kenney, William Howland. “Historical Context and the Definition of Jazz: Putting More of the History in ‘Jazz History’â€. Jazz Among the Discourses. Duke U Press, Durham and London 1995. 100-116.) where he talks about black and white owned clubs.
One of the things I've noticed in all this talk of jazz history is the importance of walking and listening to the world around you. There're plenty of stories of journeymen musicians standing outside clubs listening to their heroes play, or of 'music in the streets'. Can't hear any of that action if you're driving a car, right? This has made me think about urban planning and community and how important a walkable city was to the development of jazz as community practice... not to mention dance in everyday life.
"more jazz maps" was posted in the category lindy hop and other dances and maps and music and research
June 3, 2009
telly and books
Posted by dogpossum on June 3, 2009 8:34 PM | Comments (0)
I thought I'd been on this researching kick for longer than I have. But it's only been about a month and a half. I've read quite a bit, written quite a bit, but I have a pile of books I've had out for at least one renewal and won't get through before they're due. There are five I need to read. Thing is, I'm reading very, very slowly because I'm stopping to take notes all the time. And make blog posts. At some point I need to stop and take stock, write up some sort of conclusions or overall ideas from what I've read. Synthesise my reading and thinking so far. But it's all a bit of a jumble right now - a big mash of ideas. Which is really where I'd expect to be at this point. But I like order. And the girl who pulled her phd out in three years didn't get to that point with a disorganised research process. I call on: POWERS OF OB-CON TIDINESS!
Having spent the last couple of weeks wading through a massive pile of paperwork for a job application (don't ask), I'm feeling a bit behind. Or, rather, as though I've dropped a few stitches and need to go back and check. Which brings me to my first segue.
I've been crocheting like a crazed fool. The weather is cool enough to bear a lapful of yarn, and I've made one afghan and one oversized afghan in the past few months. The oversized afghan isn't all that pleasing, but the afghan is wonderful. I'm very happy with the tension, with the combination of stitches, and almost with the colours. I'm working on one right now that's just perfect - a development of the pattern and colours of the afghan. It's going to be bed-sized, though, as while afghans are nice, they're not all that useful, size-wise. I have also done a few little 'sampler' type crocheting projects using nicely textured yarn to get my hand back in with the fancier stitches. I do like crocheting. It's perfect for ob-conners like myself, and also practical. Plus, it gives me something to do while I watch TV.
And watch TV I do:
Veronica Mars, season 1 (season 2 begun)
Primeval (British dinosaur adventure show) - abandoned
Crambridge (or something - a BBC bonnets drama) - mid-process
Roswell - teen alien kissing fest. YES!
Moonlight - terrible vampire detective rubbish. Yet, also, wonderful.
Blood Price- adaptation of Tanya Huff novels. Terrible and C-grade, but also an accurate adaptation of the books. Finally, a decent female protagonist!
True Blood - rewatched in preparation for season 2!
Sanctuary - Bgrade again, but at least a decent female protagonist and gender politics. Also, good for watching before bed, as lots of long, slow shots with swirly dark backgrounds and very few short sharp cuts.
Dollhouse - infuriating, maddening, horrible. Not sure I can cope with season 2. Whedon - you suck arse, on all fronts.
BSG- returned to it, trying to get past the end of season 1. Not sure it'll happen, as it makes me angry.
Dark Angel - surprisingly good gender/race politics. Not sure there's a second season, but haven't rushed to get it from the video shop.
Rescue Me. Has Denis Leary in it. I'm not interested in it, much, but The Squeeze likes it. I get a bit tired of all that blokes-in-groups 'emoting' with bum humour stuff. Same old, same old. Bit too much gratuitous sex and fails gender/race/sexuality. As you'd expect. This is kind of the point with this show, but I really can't be arsed.
Homicide, Life on the Streets. Years after Galaxy told me to watch it (literally years - as in more than ten), I finally watch it. It's so great. If you like The Wire, you'll like this earlier work by the same dood(s).
Lost In Austen. Fully freakin' sick.
Party Animals - BBC drama about young people in political parties. Like 'This Life' (by same doods), but ultimately dull. But has new Dr Who guy in it.
Dr Who rebooted - yeah!
Farscape - lost me midway through season 2. Will get back to it. I guess.
There's more, but I can't remember it.
Why so much television? Well, we don't have a telly aerial, so this is _all_ the television I watch. On DVD. Our local video shop is really quite good.
I also go through quite a bit of music, when I can fit it in. I can't listen to music when I'm working, so I don't listen to as much music as I'd like. My DJing is suffering.
"telly and books" was posted in the category research and television
May 25, 2009
it's not a dj!
Posted by dogpossum on May 25, 2009 6:37 PM | Comments (2)
Continuing with talk about jam sessions, magazines and jazz in the 40s... Dust4Eyes asked me if I'd seen the pic of the 'DJ' in the GJon Mili Life series. I hadn't. I've just been looking at them again, and came across this one:
This isn't actually a DJ, but someone recording the session. For a V-disc, I assume.
Neat, huh?
(NB Esquire also recorded their broadcast 'all stars' performances for V-discs)
More of my posts about this stuff:
pop culture, jazz and ethnicity.
jam session photography
magazines, jazz, masculinity, mess
"it's not a dj!" was posted in the category music and research
pop culture, jazz and ethnicity.
Posted by dogpossum on May 25, 2009 2:43 PM | Comments (2)
NB: I've done some edits on this post for the shocking grammar/mistypes. Apologies.
In the 1930s and 40s - most particularly the 40s - jazz was mainstream music. It was popular. Though it had been discussed in a range of specialist magazines and periodicals (including Down Beat and Metronome) for years, the mid-40s saw mainstream publications like Life, Look and the men's magazine Esquire publishing stories and photos about jazz and hiring writers to produce jazz reviews. I think it's worth noting the point that Esquire was a men's magazine, that almost all the jazz promoters and managers were men, and that almost all jazz instrumentalists were male.
(Norman Granz from the Verve site)
This mainstreaming of jazz is interesting. It was also a challenge for jazz afficianados who were committed to raising the profile and status of jazz musicians as artists. Reading about Norman Granz, I've come across this discussion:
Beginning with the first jam sessions he organized and extending through two decades of JATP concerts, tours, and records, Granz applied three rules. The musicians he hired would be paid well; there would be no dancing at his events; and there could be no segregation on either the bandstand or in the audiences. The first of these rules responded to exploitative club owners and promoters. The second institutionalized a trend that was already familiar from other attempts to establish jazz as an art, a concert music. The third rule was most important, because it recognized the limitations of previous efforts to mix the look of jazz- efforts that had relied on an optimistic trickle-down theory of cultural-social change. Granz’s third rule attempted to ensure consumption as an act of resistance to racist conventions; it tried to direct attention both to the relation of individual consumers to the producers of the music they consumed and to the relations between individual, and perhaps different consumers of the same musical product (26).
It's interesting to see how Granz's efforts to raise the status of jazz as art coincided with his anti-segregation and anti-racism efforts. The popular served as 'low' culture, and low culture is where black musicians were situated. It's this equating of segregation with popular culture which I find really interesting. I'm also paying attention to the way jazz is 'artified' by various discourses.
Today jazz in Australia has been thoroughly canonised, stuffed into the 'elite' or 'art' category. It is not popular music. 'Modern' jazz is 'difficult art', 'classic jazz' is daggy and something for old white people. The issue of race works in a different way: there are no black artists in the jazz bands I see at Australian dances, besides the occasional female singer. This is in part because Australian multiculturalism works in a different way to American. But I also think that these efforts to 'artify' jazz has effectively distanced it from anyone other than white musicians and white jazznick fans.
This is just a first thought, so please don't take it as any final argument or position. But it's making me wonder about ethnicity and class in Australian jazz. We were, after all, segregated as well. And we did have a White Australia immigration policy. I haven't begun any work on Australian jazz, but I'm wondering how the contemporary jazz landscape looks, in terms of race and gender?
It's also important to note that there's a general undercurrent in much of the critical work on jazz that I'm reading (critical in the 'theorised' sense rather than 'reviewing records' sense) that bebop was far more challenging and engaged with race politics in America than swing. There's also some provocative stuff about masculinity and black masculinity in the literature on bebop).
(another Gjon Mili photo from his Life magazine series)
Additionally, I'm noticing that the 'jam session' is acquiring mythic status throughout all the jazz literature. This is where jazz musicians (regardless of colour or class) could come together and just play, for hours or days, in 'safe' clubs or back rooms. The implication is of course that in jam sessions musicians were 'free' and in staged performances they were 'caged' by social convention.
My spidey sense is tingling. If these jam sessions were so free and liberal, where are the sisters? Who's home looking after the kids or grandmothers so these uncaged tigers can jam the blues all night? You know, of course, that this brings us back to the role of gender in jazz, and in jazz journalism. And to my central research interest: the relationship between different media within a community... or in constructing community.
Knight, Arthur, “Jammin’ the Blues: or the Sight of Jazz, 1944â€. Representing Jazz, ed. Krin Gabbard. Duke U Press: Durham and London, 1995. 11-53.
An earlier post on magazines and jazz
An even earlier post on magazines, jazz and masculinity
"pop culture, jazz and ethnicity." was posted in the category lindy hop and other dances and music and research
May 21, 2009
jam session photography
Posted by dogpossum on May 21, 2009 2:41 PM | Comments (0)
Remember I was all interested in magazines and their interest in 'all-star' shows and bands? Well, I've been reading* about Gjon Mili, who directed 'Jammin' the Blues':
(I think this version is edited down... but I'm not sure)
Seen that one? Maybe you haven't seen this one:
Here's the blurb from the youtube site:
Life Magazine photographer Gjon Mili joined with jazz producer and Verve-label owner Norman Granz to produce the short film "Jammin' the Blues" in 1944 with Lester Young, Red Callendar, Harry Edison, "Big" Sid Catlett, Illinois Jacquet, Barney Kessel, Jo Jones and Marie Bryant. The film was nominated for Best Short Subject at the 1945 Academy Awards, but didn't win.The pair came together again in 1950 to shoot footage of leading jazz artists of the day, but when funding dried up, the film ceased production and sat on shelves for 50 years (except for a few snippets which found their way onto bootlegs).
Blues For Greasy is one of those pieces shot by Gjon Mili and Norman Granz, using musicians from his Jazz at the Philharmonic tour.
Harry 'Sweets' Edison: trumpet
Lester Young: Tenor Sax
Flip Phillips: Tenor Sax
Bill Harris: Trombone
Hank Jones: Piano
Ray Brown: Bass
Buddy Rich: Drums
Ella Fitzgerald: Vocals
Isn't Youtube wonderful?
But then, Google is pretty good too:
Gjon Mili was actually a photographer, who did lots of work with magazines like Life. He also did some work for Esquire, including a 'Jam Session' shoot at his studio. And because the internets is truly freakin' awesome, I had a little look at the Life photos on Google and found this freakin amazing collection of photos.
What's so great about this series? Lots of things. The sheer calibre of stars, all together in one room, playing jazz. Duke Ellington, Dizzie Gillespie, Gene Krupa, Billie Holiday, Eddie Condon... there are just so many amazing musicians in there together. One of the other important things to note about this session is the fact that this is a group of mixed race musicians, playing and photographed together. That was still pretty amazing in 1943.
This is my favourite one:
I like it because it's Billie Holiday singing 'Fine and Mellow' with Cozy Cole on drums. I'm sure someone with a better eye could identify the others. This isn't the famous 1957 television performance I've posted before, though.
I also quite like this one:
It's a group of people from vogue magazine at the same photo shoot.
You know what I'm thinking.
*Knight, Arthur, “Jammin’ the Blues: or the Sight of Jazz, 1944â€. Representing Jazz, ed. Krin Gabbard. Duke U Press: Durham and London, 1995. 11-53.
"jam session photography" was posted in the category fillums and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
May 14, 2009
omg: jazz oral histories!
Posted by dogpossum on May 14, 2009 11:15 AM | Comments (1)
Reading yet another article (Peretti's “Oral Histories of Jazz Musicians: the NEA transcripts as texts in contextâ€), I found a reference to the Jazz Oral History Project, which is a collection of interviews with jazz musicians. The collection includes both oral and transcript records. The paper is centrally concerned with the challenges of working with oral histories (which of course is related to the idea of the 'history' and telling the history of jazz).
The JOHP was begun in 1968 by the National Endowment for the Arts, run by the Smithsonian, and after 1979 by the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University-Newark. Many of the musicians were not applying for or receiving financial support from the NEA, so it developed the interview project as a way of ensuring older jazz performers received money. Each subject was paid $2000 for a minimum of five hours speaking. The project's funding was cut by two thirds by the Reagan government in 1983. Musicians were chosen from a range of groups, and were both big names and smaller sidemen(and women). Elderly or unwell musicians were targeted in particular. Almost fifty of the 123 subjects had died by the end of 1991.
The JOHP's main goal was to capture the reminiscences of older jazz musicians in substantial and serious interviews (Peretti 120)
I'm particularly interested in this process of interviewing older musicians because of the importance of older dancers in the swing dance community. Dancers such as Frankie Manning (who passed away a couple of weeks ago, and who is deeply mourned by thousands of dancers) have been an essential part of contemporary swing dance culture. Not only as a source of story and recollection, but as a dance teacher and as a cross-generational mentor and role model for younger dancers.
But back to the JOHP. As soon as I read that there were audio records, I thought 'Oh baby, this has to be on the internet! How fully sick would that be?!' So I gave it a good google, and found the Institute of Jazz Studies' JOHP site. If you follow the links, you can listen to some sample audio files or read some transcripts. My initial reaction is: where are the rest of them?! There are heaps, according to the Peretti article. The site says:
The condition of the original reel-to-reel and cassette tapes and some of the service copies had deteriorated to the point where the Institute could no longer offer access to large parts of the collection. With recent funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities, all 120 interviews have now been preserved in digital format. The digital versions of the interviews are currently stored in various media forms, including multiple sets of CD's for archival purposes as well as for client access at the Institute. The digital versions of the interviews are also being ingested into a new digital library repository (RUCORE) under development as part of the Rutgers University Libraries new digital library initiative, which will provide another form of archiving as well as enhanced means for access by users.I'll investigate and see what I can find.
*This institute was founded in 1950 by Marshall Stearns, John Hammond George Avakian. Stearns was the author of Jazz Dance (which he cowrote with his wife Jean), and he also conducted some very famous interviews with Al and Leon. John Hammond was, of course, the famous jazz promoter (who was also involved with the Newport Jazz Festival) and George Avakian was a promoter and music producer. His son is a lindy hopper and DJ.
Peretti, Burton W. “Oral Histories of Jazz Musicians: the NEA transcripts as texts in context†Jazz Among the Discourses. Duke U Press, Durham and London 1995. 117-133.
Related projects:
- Selected video clips from the Louis Armstrong Jazz Oral History Project
- The Smithsonian Jazz Oral History Program
"omg: jazz oral histories!" was posted in the category lindy hop and other dances and music and research
May 11, 2009
video in the desert; youtube in the cities
Posted by dogpossum on May 11, 2009 11:42 AM | Comments (0)
As you probably know if you've read some of my earlier posts, I'm fascinated by indigenous media use as a model for community media practice. Whatever that means. So I was struck by this bit of a book I'm reading at the moment:
It was costly and difficult to bring hired videotapes almost 300 kilometres from Alice Springs to Yuendumu and to stop them from being scratched or damaged in the sandy desert camps and few commercial videos in the video shops in Alice Springs were attractive for the Warlpiri to hire. So the community came up with the idea of connecting all the video recorders in the camp a low-frequency, low-powered community television 'station' and using it to distribute a single videotape to all the sets in the community (Bell 80)
Firstly, I thought, 'This is Youtube - this is what Youtube does for dancers.' Before Youtube, dancers would distribute edited bits of archival film (featuring dance, of course) via video, and later as digital clips on CDs. Then Youtube happened, and suddenly all those locally distributed clips were online, available to everyone. Previous networks of exchange and the associated hierachies of knowledge and supply were dismantled. Everyone could watch archival clips, could see the original lindy hoppers (and balboa dancers and blues dancers and charlestoners and black bottomers and...) and experiment with the movements they saw. In my thesis I wrote about the way this upset hiearchies of knowledge in the local Melbourne scene, and how it had the potential to disrupt the commodification of dance (and knowledge) by dance schools and teachers.
Of course, the results weren't quite so radical. Learning moves from grainy, downloaded Youtube clips is difficult, and many people would much rather just be taught the moves by some dood in a class. Many people don't know where to begin when searching for archival clips online - you need to know terms (black bottom, lindy hop, charleston, Al Minns, Frankie Manning...) before you can search effectively. And of course, dance classes serve a range of functions beyond the transfer of dance knowledge - they socialise new dancers, they provide peer groups for the lonely, fellow addicts for the junkies and so on.
But Youtube is fascinating for the way it changed how dancers acquire and watch archival footage. Within a year, things I'd written about in my thesis were changed, utterly. And in the last year, Faceplant has changed things again. The most important part of faceplant for this particular community is the way it's integrated and conglomerated a host of different media. Audio files, youtube clips, online discussion, blogs, newsletters, event notices, email: all of them centralised in one site. Facebook, though it is effectively a gated community* has also suddenly connected thousands and thousands of dancers all over the world. And in a very public, collaborative way. I've been fascinated by the way 'being friends' with a few key, well-traveled dancers can connect you up to a host of international scenes.
This was proved most clearly in the recent passing of Frankie Manning, just a few weeks before his 95th birthday. I'd like to write more about that, but I don't feel up to it, really. And I think Frankie deserves more than one poorly written post on my blog; I'd like to write something properly. But this one event illustrated most clearly the connectedness and sheer speed of communications within the online swing dance community. It has also pointed out, thoroughly, that my ideas about localised communities are still very important: we might all be online, but we are still thoroughly grounded, embodied and localised by dance.
Of course, we can still make the point that this sort of media use - as with the Yuendumu example - is not like traditional broadcast media. The difference is not so much that we aren't really working with the 'few-to-many' model of distribution, but that these are smaller groups taking up 'new' media and adapting them to their own particular circumstances. Wether those circumstances require dealing with dust or a way of seeing elders.**
*Thanks for that term, D4E.
**And of course, here is where parallels between Yuendumu and swing dancers arise again: the Warlpiri media collective has been very concerned with filming and then distributing the filmed image of elders. Just as swing dancers have been focussed on distributing filmed images of elders - swing era dancers. Both, of course, are managed by extensive social and pedagogic networks. And both rework 'pedagogy' for their particular contexts.
Bell, Wendy. A Remote Possibility: the Battle for Imparja Television IAD Press: Alice Springs, 2008.
"video in the desert; youtube in the cities" was posted in the category lindy hop and other dances and research and television
May 10, 2009
every day is blog amnesty day for me
Posted by dogpossum on May 10, 2009 2:09 PM | Comments (0)
...because I feel no shame, and publish every entry I begin. For which I apologise.
I was just thinking: why do I alway recognise an Ellington song? Is it the arrangements or the soloists? Ellington's band carefully showcased each soloist with personally tailored and arranged solos/parts for specific people. So I guess it's a combination: parts and whole.
Then I was thinking about my obsession with various jazz pianists. I thought I might do a post with little bios and pics of each one. Then I got distracted. But here are some I love:
Willie 'the Lion' Smith. Wasn't a big band leader, but did a zillion songs with a zillion bands. One of my favourites is a song called '4,5, and 9' with Leadbelly in 1946 from a CD my mum bought me at the Smithsonian in Washington. It's (the song, not the Smithsonian) fairly sparse - piano, guitar, harmonica, male vocals. It has a rolling, rollicking rhythm that makes me want to roll and rolllick around the house. You can't lindy hop to it. You can only roll or rollick.
Fats Waller Duh. Was a band leader. Died younger than we'd like, but not surprising considering his lifestyle. His band was famously loyal and stayed with him for a very long time. He began his career with bands like the McKinney Cotton Pickers in New York. I love his light, tinkly playing, his chunky left hand rhythms and his lovely lyrics. I love the combination of light-hearted humour and melancholy.
Mary Lou Williams You tend to find women in jazz bands at the piano or behind the microphone, mostly because they were considered 'ladylike' musical pursuits. No tubas here. Williams was in Andy Kirk's band, and was important not only because she could play like a demon, but also because she was a badass arranger. She didn't sing (that I know).
There are plenty more, but these are the ones I'm currently interested in.
I was going to write something else about something else, but I've forgotten what it was.
Oh, that's right. I've been playing Flight Control on The Squeeze's ipod touch. I've been getting quite high scores. I don't like any of the other games. I don't play computer games at all, usually.
I was hardcore into sourdough recently, but my interest has waned. I am now interested in ... well, nothing much else, food-wise.
On other fronts, I've been doing an awful lot of reading about jazz, jazz history and jazz studies. Soon my brain will blow up. I think I'm procrastinating about another book I have to read and review for a journal. I'd better get onto that one quick-smart. But I just can't be arsed - I know how it'll end, it's not hugely well written, and while the content is very interesting, I just can't stick with it.
My foot has been much, much better. But yesterday and today it was a bit sore. Podiatrist in about a week for an update, and a verdict on whether or not there'll be dancing again in my future, ever. Let's cross our fingers, shall we?
There is a cafe on the main drag of Newtown called Funky which made me a freaking wonderful prawn raviolli the other night. It was home made pasta, in large sheets, folded around some perfectly prepared prawns, in a light, fresh tomato, tiny-bit-of-cream and smidge-of-butter sauce. It was simple and perfect. I was amazed. The manager is a lovey and always seats me carefully when I come in on my own every other Friday evening for a quick before-DJing dinner. It is a delight to eat there. Especially as the cafes on that strip can suck bums. But it's really too nice to be called a cafe. And on the last few Fridays they've had a small, very excellent latin combo playing in their tiny restaurant. They had a double bass, guitar, bongos, vocals and ... something else last Friday. They were so good I wished I could dance salsa. I didn't even feel I needed to read my book, they were so nice to watch and listen to. And I do like a quiet sit-and-read on my own over a nice meal in a restaurant. I know it's not cool, but it's one of my greatest pleasures - eating alone in a restaurant.
That's all I've got for now, I'm afraid.
"every day is blog amnesty day for me" was posted in the category djing and dogpossum and fewd and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
May 4, 2009
map of new orleans jazz neighbourhoods
Posted by dogpossum on May 4, 2009 8:50 PM | Comments (0)
This will make a lot more sense if you read more about it over here at the National Parks Service site. Yes, jazz + parks. It's a strange American thing. Remind me to post about the Century Ballroom and its interesting relationship with the NPS.
If you're digging on these maps, make sure you also check out the Louisiana maps, especially the historic ones.
I have been trying to 'tour' New Orleans via googleearth, but can't quite figure it out. Will report back.
Can I add: MAPS! SKWEEE!
"map of new orleans jazz neighbourhoods" was posted in the category academia and maps and music and research
the trouble with linear jazz narratives + more
Posted by dogpossum on May 4, 2009 6:33 PM | Comments (2)
In the earliest parts of my researching into jazz history, I tried to set up a sort of 'time line' or map* of musicians and cities and bands. Who played with which band in what city at what time? Then where did they go? This approach was partly based on the idea that particularly influential musicians (like Armstrong) would spread influence, from New Orleans to New York and beyond.
But drawing these time lines out on pieces of paper, I found it wasn't possible to draw a nice, clear line from New Orleans to New York, passing through particular bands. Musicians left New Orleans, went to New York, then back to New Orleans, then off to France, then back again to New York. The discographies revealed the fact that a band recorded in different cities during the year - they were in constant motion, all over America. Furthermore, musicians didn't stick with one band, they moved between bands, they regularly used pseudonyms and even the term 'band' is problematic. The Mills Blue Rhythm Band, with its dozens and dozens of names, was in fact a shifting, changing association of musicians, and did not even have a fixed 'core' set of players. Perhaps this is why the MBRB is so important: many people played with them, and they were a band(s) which moved and changed shape, a loose network of musicians who really only existed as 'a band' when they were caught, in one moment, on a recording. Or perhaps on a stage (though that's far more problematic). I wonder if that's why it's so hard to find a photo of them? Perhaps the 'Mills Blue Rhythm Band', as a discrete entity didn't really exist?
The more I read about jazz and 'jazz' history, the more convinced I am by the idea of 'jazz' as a shifting series of relationships. I think about cities not as fixed locations, but as points on a sort of 'trade route' or even as a complicated web or network of relationships between individual musicians (which is, incidentally, how I think about international swing dance culture - the physical place is important, but it's not binding).
Right now I've followed some references backwards to an article by Scott DeVeaux called Constructing the Jazz Tradition, which is really interesting. It not only outlines some of the political effects of a coherent 'narrative' history of jazz, but also the economic and social effects of positioning jazz as a 'black music', with interesting references to consequences of the 'jazz musician as artist' for black musicians. Read in concert with David Ake's discussion of creole identity and ethnicity in New Orleans as far more complicated than 'black' and 'white', this makes for some pretty powerful thinking.
I'm very interested in the idea of a 'jazz canon' and of the role of people like Wynton Marsalis, the Ken Burns Jazz discography, jazz clubs and magazines developing during the 30s and 40s devoted to New Orleans recreationism and the whole 'moldy figs' discussion. The tensions surrounding the Newport jazz festival also feed into this: the Gennari article (which I discuss in reference to its descriptions of white, middle class men rioting at Newport here) pointed out the significance of a festival program loaded with 'trad' jazz - for black musicians and for the popularising of jazz generally. I've also been reading about the effects of this emphasis on trad jazz for superstar musicians like Louis Armstrong.
O'Meally and Gabbard have written about the way Armstrong's public, visual persona is marked by ethnicity.
Armstrong was known for his visual 'mugging', or playing the 'Uncle Tom' for white audiences, particularly on stage. Eschen writes
...as the struggle for equality accelerated, Armstrong was widely criticized as an Uncle Tom and, for many, compared unfavourably with a younger, more militant group of jazz musicians (193)This, as Eschen continues, despite the fact that Armstrong was actually an active campaigner for civil rights in America, and overseas.
The trad jazz movement - or 'moldy figs' pushing for the preservation of an 'authentic' jazz from New Orleans - effectively pushes Armstrong to continue as Uncle Tom - unthreatening black man clowning for white audiences. A narrative history of jazz which emphasises a beginning in New Orleans and a consistent, clearly defined lineage of musicians and styles also, more subtly, relies on an idea of the black musician as powerless or unthreatening. DeVeaux makes the point that positioning jazz (and jazz musicians) as artistic loners who do not 'sell out' with commercial success:
Issues of ethnicity and economics define jazz as an oppositional discourse: the music of an oppressed minority culture, tainted by its association with commercial entertainment in a society that reserves its greatest respect for art that is carefully removed from daily life (530)In this world, the 'true' jazz musician is 'black' (in a truly singular, homogenous sense of the world), he is poor and he is mugging for white audiences.
Billie Holiday becomes a particularly attractive representation for this idea of the 'jazz musician': poor, black, addled by drugs and alcohol, a history of prostitution, yet nonetheless, a creative genius pouring out, untainted in recording sessions (and I'm reminded of the 'one take' stories) and tragically cut short.
All of this is quite disturbing for someone who really, really likes jazz from the 20s, 30s and 40s. Am I buying into this disturbing jazz mythology? It's even more disturbing for someone who found similar themes in contemporary swing dancers' development of 'narratives' and geneologies of jazz dance history. As DeVeaux writes (about jazz, not dance), though, this is
The struggle is over possession of that history, and the legitimacy that it confers. More precisely, the struggle is over the act of definition that is presumed to lie at the history’s core (528)I wonder if I should suspect my own critique of capitalist impulses in contemporary swing dance discourse?
I don't think it's that simple. Gabbard discusses Armstrong's work with Duke Ellington, including the filming of Paris Blues (in which Armstrong starred, and for which Ellington contributed the score) and the recording of the 'Summit' sessions:
…at those moments in the film when he seems most eager to please with his vocal performances, his mugging is sufficiently exaggerated to suggest and ulterior motive. Lester Bowie has suggested that Armstrong is essentially “slipping a little poison into the coffee†of those who think they are watching a harmless darkie….Throughout his career in films, Armstrong continued to subvert received notions of African American identity, signifying on the camera while creating a style of trumpet performance that was virile, erotic, dramatic, and playful. No other black entertainer of Armstrong’s generation – with the possible exception of Ellington – brought so much intensity and charisma to his performances. But because Armstrong did not change his masculine presentation after the 1920s, many of his gestures became obsolete and lost their revolutionary edge. For many black and white Americans in the 1950s and 1960s, he was an embarrassment. In the early days of the twenty-first century, when Armstrong is regularly cast as a heroicized figure in the increasingly heroicising narrative of jazz history, we should remember that he was regularly asked to play the buffoon when he appeared on films and television (Gabbard 298)
You can see a clip from Paris Blues here.
Armstrong's performance gains meaning from its context, from the point of view of the observer, from his own actions as a 'real' person (Armstrong was in fact openly, assertively critical of Jim Crowism and quite politically active) and from its position within a broader 'body' of Armstrong's work as a public performer. Pinning it down is difficult - it's slippery.
The idea of layers of meaning is not only interesting, it's essential. This physical performance of identity, tied to the physicality of playing an instrument reminds me of the layers of meaning in black dance. And of course, of hot and cool in dance, and the layers of meaning in blues dance and music. Put simply, what you see at first glance, is not all that you are getting. Layers of meaning are available to the experienced, inquiring eye. Hiding 'true' meanings (or more subversive subtexts) is important when the body under inspection is singing or dancing from the margins. Tommy DeFrantz discusses meaning and masculinity in black dance during slavery:
serious dancing went underground, and dances which carried significant aesthetic information became disguised or hidden from public view. For white audiences, the black man’s dancing body came to carry only the information on its surface (DeFrantz 107).
Armstrong's performance is more than simply its surface. As with any clown, the meanings are more complex than a little light entertainment. Gabbard continues his point:
In short, Ellington plays the dignified leader and Armstrong plays the trickster. Armstrong’s tricksterisms were an essential part of his performance persona. On one level, Armstrong’s grinning, mugging, and exaggerated body language made him a much more congenial presence, especially to racist audiences who might otherwise have found so confident a performer to be disturbing, to say the least. When Armstrong put his trumpet to his lips, however, he was all business. The servile gestures disappeared as he held his trumpet erect and flaunted his virtuosity, power, and imagination (Gabbard 298).
This, of course, reminds me of that solo in High Society that I mentioned in a previous post. There's some literature discussing the physicality of jazz musician's performances, but I haven't gotten to that yet (though you know I'm busting for it). I have read some bits and pieces about gender and performance on stage (especially in reference to Lester Young), and there're some interesting bits and pieces about trumpets and their semiotic weight, but I haven't gotten to that yet, either.
Sorry to end this so abruptly: these are really just ideas in process. :D
To sum all that up:
- The idea of a jazz musician as 'isolated artist' is problematic, especially in the context of ethnicity and class. Basically, the 'true jazz musician who doesn't sell out by making money' is bad news for black musicians: it perpetuates marginalisation, not only economically, but also discursively, by devaluing the contributions of black musicians who are interested in making a living from their music. Jazz musicians are also members of communities.
- Linear histories of jazz are problematic: they deny the diversity of jazz today, and its past. Linear histories with their roots in New Orleans, insisting that this is 'black music' overlook the ethnic diversity of New Orleans in that moment: two categories of 'black' and 'white' do not recognise the diversity of Creole musicality, of the wide range of migrant musicians, of the diversity within a 'white' culture (which is also Italian and English and American and French and....), of economic and class relations in the city, and so on.
- 'linear histories' + 'musician as artist' neglect the complexities of everyday life within communities, and the role that music plays therein. These myths also overlook the fact that music is not divorced from everyday life; it is part of a continuum of creative production (to paraphrase LeeEllen Friedland and to refer to discussions about Ralph Ellison - which I will talk about later on).
- Music and dance have a lot in common. They carry layers of meaning, and aren't simply discrete canvases revealing one, singular meaning to each reader. They are weighted down by, buoyed up by a plethora of ideas and themes and creative industrial practices and sparks.
DeFrantz, Thomas. "The Black Male Body in Concert Dance." Moving Words: Re- Writing Dance. Ed. Gay Morris. London and New York: Routledge, 1996. 107 - 20.
DeVeaux, Scott, “Constructing the Jazz Tradition: Jazz Historiography†Black American Literature Forum 25.3 (1991): 525-560.
Eschen, Penny M. “the real ambassadorsâ€. Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 189-203.
Friedland, LeeEllen. "Social Commentary in African-American Movement Performance."
Human Action Signs in Cultural Context: The Visible and the Invisible in
Movement and Dance. Ed. Brenda Farnell. London: Scarecrow Press, 1995. 136 -
57.
Gabbard, Krin. “Paris Blues: Ellington, Armstrong, and Saying It with Musicâ€. Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 297-311.
Gennari, John. “Hipsters, Bluebloods, Rebels, and Hooligans: the Cultural Politics of the Newport Jazz Festival.†Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 126-149.
Lipsitz, George. “Songs of the Unsung: The Darby Hicks History of Jazz,†Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004: 9-26.
O’Meally, Robert G. “Checking our Balances: Louis Armstrong, Ralph Ellison and Betty Boopâ€. Uptown Conversation: the new Jazz studies, ed. Robert O’Meally, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 276-296. (You can see the animated Betty Boop/Armstrong film O'Meally references here.
*The jazz map was found via jazz.com, but they don't list the url for the map in context.
There's something seriously addictive about historic 'jazz maps'. I think it's because they're imaginary places. My latest find: New Orleans 'jazz neighbourhoods'.
"the trouble with linear jazz narratives + more" was posted in the category academia and djing and lindy hop and other dances and maps and music and research and thesis
April 29, 2009
magazines, jazz, masculinity, mess
Posted by dogpossum on April 29, 2009 1:51 PM | Comments (3)
This is another in-progress bit of writing in response to things I've been reading lately. I've found some nicely critical engagments with jazz and jazz study, and am suddenly wishing I was in the US. This isn't the most coherent of posts, partly because I lost part of it with an inadvertent page refresh. Shit.
I've been thinking or wondering about the relationship between Esquire magazine and jazz, partly as a result of my work with the jazz discography (and following Billie Holiday). There were a few concerts in 1944 and 1945 featuring the 'Esquire All Stars' - a group of truly big names: Roy Eldridge, Jack Teagarden, Barney Bigard, Coleman Hawkins, Art Tatum, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Mildred Bailey and others.
There are some albums released from these concerts, including one interesting one called At the Met, the cover of which is particularly provocative when you consider the issues I raise below.
I've just found this in a paper about Miles Davis:
By the 1950s, American had become aware of subtle shifts in social and gender roles. Sociologists and psychiatrists were talking about men trapped in gray flannel suits, the age of conformity, the weakening of the superego, the other-directed person. The concern was that a new postwar economy was creating a society in which people were externally motivated, too well adjusted, too sociable. Scarcely concealed behind the jargon of social science was the fear that it was not women who were changing, but men, who were becoming soft, emotional, and expressive - that is, more like women rather than like the rational and task-oriented patriarchs who had built and protected America. More often than not, such ideas were dressed up as if they were the received wisdom of the ages, but their sources were transparently pop.
Elsewhere, Playboy magazine was wrestling with the same anxieties and assuaging them with a particular kind of male hedonism, promoting the good life for the single man: money, imported cars, circular beds, top-of-the-line stereos, chicks. And like Esquire before it, Playboy championed jazz, as a male music, to be sure, but the music of a certain kind of male, as the couture, decorations, and genderized illustrations of the jazz life in its pages made clear. Then there were the Beats, detested by Playboy, but sharing some of its fantasies by celebrating freedom, male bonding, drugs, art, and the hip lifestyle, one of their inspirations being the nightlife of the black musician (Szwed 183).
This article "The Man" discusses Miles Davis' masculinity, positioning him in the 1950s as both 'a man' and as a jazz musician. There's lots of talk about 'masculinity'. We can also draw some conclusions about white, middle class men and their interest in black masculinity as some sort of 'free', 'sensual' and 'vibrant' ideal. Particularly in reference to the Beats.
It's been interesting reading this article after one about the Newport Jazz Festival, “Hipsters, Bluebloods, Rebels, and Hooligans: the Cultural Politics of the Newport Jazz Festival" by John Gennari. Particularly in reference to this section:
At the Newport Jazz Festival on the fourth of July weekend in 1960, thousands of white youths described by Life magazine as "more interested in cold beer than in hot jazz†spilled from the jazz concerts into Newport’s downtown, attacking policemen, kicking in store windows, and manhandling the town’s residents and visitors. Press reports noted that many of the drunken rioters screamed racial epithets while rampaging through the town. State police used billy clubs and tear gas to stem the riot, then called on the marines for help in restoring order. When the air cleared, over two hundred of the marauders found themselves in local jails, while more than fifty of their victims required medical attention. One witness told the Providence Journal: “I’ve experienced fear twice in my life. Once was in combat during World War II; the other was Saturday night in Newport.†Scheduled to end on Sunday night, the festival was ordered shut down on Sunday afternoon by the Newport city council. The last act was a program of blues narrated by Langston Hughes. Anticipating the city council’s action, Hughes penned a set of lyrics on a Western Union sheet. He handed them to Otis Spann, who sang them slowly as the crowd quietly departed.Among a rash of press reports on the riot, one commentator blamed the allure of Newport, a “resort area which hold[s] a fascination for the square collegian who wants to ball without running the risk of mom and dad stumbling across his prostrate from on somebody’s lawn.†Mordantly noting the contrast between the Newport gentry “in the front row with their Martini shakers†and the youngsters “squatting in the back, their heads between their knees, upchucking their beer,†journalist Murray Kempton wondered, “Was there anything in America at once so fashionable and so squalid?†To many who had embraced Newport as jazz’s City on a Hill, a sterling model of New England Brahmin philanthropy, more disconcerting than the spectacle of loutish yahoos profaning the festival was the rioter’s identity. These were not switchblade-wielding rebels without a cause, nor pothead beatnicks in overalls. These ‘young hooligan herrenvolk of the Eastern seaboard,†as Village Voice jazz critic Robert Reisner dubbed the rioters, were students from the elite colleges, fraternity brothers on a fast track to the corporate boardroom. “You could tell the students from Harvard and Yale,†wagged one man on the street: “They were throwing only imported beer bottles.†(Gennari 127)
I'd previously thought about the Newport Jazz Festival in reference to the film High Society and the documentary film Jazz on a Summer's Day, both of which suggest class tensions, but in the politest way. Neither references these sorts of middle class men rioting (!). In fact, JOASD is, as Gennari discusses, a more than a little arty, genteel and restrained. Here's a gratuitous clip to illustrate:
For many dancers Newport is significant for the albums recorded there by Count Basie and Duke Ellington. Gannari discusses the racial tensions at work in the Newport Jazz Festival, particularly in its later years and in reference to Louis Armstrong's performance in JOASD which is a little too uncle Tom to be precisely comfortable (and Gannari complicates this with references to Armstrong's own ability to subvert this stereotype). Unlike the idealised descriptions in Beat literature (including some sections in On the Road, which have always bothered me, especially when read in conjunction with Anne Petry's novel The Street), in JOASD black masculinity is carefully contained.
I guess what I'm trying to do here is make some distinctions about representations of race and class in mens' magazines, in music magazines and in films like JOASD. Mens' magazines and Beat writers presented an idealised black masculinity with was free, undomesticated, independent - an artist unbound. Films like JOASD and High Society present black masculinity as safely contained as an item of novelty by the bandstand or (as in JOASD) safely receptive by chairs in the audience. Both of these disconnect them from the broader community of which they were a part... the communities, I should say.
I always think about stories about Nat King Cole in these sorts of discussions. About an anecdote I heard on a TV doco. Cole, financially and artistically successful, bought a large house in a wealthy white suburb. His lawn was set on fire/painted with racial epithets. Though he sought the trappings of middle class security, he was still tagged as 'other'.
Let's talk a bit more about High Society.
This is my favourite part of the film. Armstrong is, effectively, the narrator of HS. It is his voice which anchors the film. I like the way he introduces us to Newport, and his presenting jazz as the most important part of this narrative. I like the casual setting of their playing - playing for fun, for their own enjoyment rather than for an audience. Armstrong's story is for the guys in the band. I kind of like the idea of the band on the road because it echoes the idea of bands and jazz as music in transit. Travel and jazz are also buzzing about in my head at the moment (and I've talked about it before). Their place on a bus is interesting, too, as it clearly marks their class later on, when we see characters like Samantha zipping about in their flash, private cars. Again, buses are a space I think of as 'public', and I'm really interested in the way musicians and dancers make public places 'space' - they occupy it aurally and physically and socially, cutting down invisible lines between individual people with a song or a dance step.
But this contrasts with the following clip (one described in Gennari's article).
This is such a great song. And a fascinating scene. Armstrong and the band are actually introduced to the very white, very upper middle class Newport gentry by Crosby (I can't remember why, exactly). The point is that they're introducing this crowd to jazz. And, we can assume, to black musicians as more than servants. It's pretty radical to have a white singer on stage with a black band, but not that crazy. The band are, of course, matching in their suits. The part I like most is where Crosby's perfectly articulated, wonderfully modulated voice is upstaged by Armstrong's badass trumpet solo. Crosby is perfect; Armstrong is perfectly badass.
This song is popular with dancers, but this version isn't so great for dancing. It's a little too mannered. There's another version where Armstrong sings all the lyrics and the song, generally, has a little more kick. It makes you want to dance. I wish I could find it on the internet, but I can't. Having Armstrong sing as well as play trumpet anchors the song in quite a different way. Armstrong is more comfortable with improvising, and the subtext feels a little saucier. There's a greater element of call and response. And improvisation, of course, is the best way of escaping and adding creatively to a song without it collapsing into random noise.
This clip is significant for its role in introducing the Newport Jazz Festival to a white, straight crowd. And Newport was largely, as one of the promoters George Wein insisted, about popularising jazz. Or about introducing jazz to mainstream America. Debates about the types of jazz on display at Newport, about work practices, pay and the general culture of the festival during a period of Jim Crow legislation make it particularly interesting. Because, remember, the fact that Louis Armstrong and his band are sitting at the back of the bus is very important. Segregation meant that where they traveled and how they traveled and how they played music was managed by law. In this context, what does it mean for Armstrong's solo to bust right out of the carefully mannered, modulated frame set up by Crosby and his 'introductions'?
Of course, in the film HS the white crowd return immediately to 'not-jazz' music and dancing after the performance; this was a moment's entertainment.
I'm not really sure where I'm ultimately going with all this, but there's something niggling me about the connection between men's magazines, masculinity in the postwar (1940s-60s) period, jazz and jazz performances - big jazz concerts in particular.I've also come across an interesting discussion of gender and masculinity in jazz by David Ake in the article "Regendering Jazz: Ornette Coleman and the New York Scene in the Late 1950s". I'm also thinking about jazz clubs in the 40s and 50s, their (predominantly male) membership and their effects on the jazz scene. There's something about big jazz concerts in there too, I think, that I have to follow up. Especially since I noticed just how many live recordings Billie Holiday did in the last decade of her career. The 50s saw her do a whole lot of television shows as well as large concerts, and recordings made from these. I want to follow up these ideas about the 'popularising' of jazz in regards to the status of jazz as 'art' music today. There's a tension between 'classic jazz' as 'art' and later jazz (from bebop to avant garde) in the jazz literature that I want to explore, especially in regards to the Ken Burns' documentary film Jazz. In fact, I always have something to say about that film, especially in regards to its positioning of the jazz musician as isolated 'artist', and jazz history as one of artists prompting cultural change. I am, of course, far more of the opinion that jazz was and is very much a product and process of community and local cultural context.
I know that there's something to be said about individualism and masculinity and the freedom from consequences that comes from the idea that 'jazz' is about isolated artists without community responsibility and ties. How connected was that rioting by young, white middle class college men with a 'freedom from responsibility' associated with the black jazz musician by mens' magazines and writers?
George Lipsitz presents the book Songs of the Unsung as an alternate history of jazz, one firmly embedded in local community, with jazz musicians as necessarily participating in everyday community life, rather than isolated with their 'art' in some rarified space:
Songs of the Unsung presents jazz as the conscious product of collective activity in decidedly local community spaces. The modernist city and the nation pale in significance in Tapscott’s account in comparison to the home, the neighborhood, and the community. Physical spaces far more specific than the ‘city’ shaped his encounter with music, and these spaces had meaning because they were connected to a supportive community network (Lipsitz 17)
I think I like this approach because I want to talk about jazz in the context of contemporary swing dance culture, where dancers read a history of jazz not as a history of art, but as a history of music for dancing. And this history of music for dancing as a collaborative, community history, perhaps too complicated to be told with a simple temporally linear narrative.
I was absolutely delighted to find this section in Lipsitz's book:
Instead of modernist time, this would be a history of dance time, starting with ragtime, not as a showcase for the personal ‘genius’ of Scott Joplin but as a site where African attitudes toward rhythm (and polyrhythm) became prominent in U.S. popular culture. The difference between the rhythmic concepts in ragtime’s right-hand melodies and left-hand bass accompaniment and the genre’s additive rhythms (eight semiquavers divided into 2/3s and 1/2s) evidenced a tasted for multiple patterns at the same time that it opened the door for future rhythmic innovations. Rather than the era that gave to Dixieland and swing, the 1920s and 1930s could be see as a movement from the fox-trot to the jitterbug and the lindy hop. More than a away to distribute music more effectively to a broader audience, the development of electrical recording techniques would be seen as a shift that enabled bass and drums to replace tuba and banjo as the key sources of rhythm. Such a story would feature the tap dancing of John “Bubbles†Sublette, who was dancing “four heavy beats to the bar and no cheating†fourteen years before the Count Basie band came east and popularized swing. This narrative would honor the moment in 1932 when Bennie Moten began to generate a different kind of rhythm and momentum for dancers by replacing the banjo with the guitar and substituting the string bass for the tuba. The transition from swing to bop in this story would not focus on the emergence of the saxophone over the trumpet or the small ensemble over the big band as much as it would highlight how string bass players and frontline instrumentalists began to assume responsibility for keeping time so that drummers could be free to experiment with polyrhythms and provide rhythmic accents for soloists.
The distinctive creators of ‘dance time’ would not be the virtuoso instrumentalists of modernist time but rather virtuoso ‘conversationalists’ like drummer Max Roach and dancers Earl Basie (better known by his stage name, Groundhog) and Baby Laurence. (Lipsitz 22)
I'll see how we go after a bit more reading...
Ake, David. Jazz Cultures. U of California Press: Berkely, 2002.
Gennari, John. “Hipsters, Bluebloods, Rebels, and Hooligans: the Cultural Politics of the Newport Jazz Festival, 1954-1960.†O’Meally, Robert, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin, eds. Uptown Conversation: the New Jazz Studies. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 126-149.
Lipsitz, George. "Songs of the Unsung: The Darby Hicks History of Jazz" O’Meally, Robert, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin, eds. Uptown Conversation: the New Jazz Studies. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 9-26.
O’Meally, Robert, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin, eds. Uptown Conversation: the New Jazz Studies. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004.
Szwed, John. "The Man" O’Meally, Robert, Brent Hayes Edwards, Farah Jasmin Griffin, eds. Uptown Conversation: the New Jazz Studies. Columbia U Press, NY: 2004. 166-186.
Many of these books are produced by members of the Jazz Study Group at Columbia. You can find some of their articles in full-text form online here at jazzstudiesonilne.org. It's a fab resource.
"magazines, jazz, masculinity, mess" was posted in the category academia and fillums and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
April 27, 2009
waiting to understand what the other is doing
Posted by dogpossum on April 27, 2009 4:55 PM
In the comments to my last entry, Jac writes that she likes the Billie/Louis duet:
It's like listening in on a conversation... :)
And I replied
Yeah - that's what I like about it. I think that's what people like about the Ella and Louis duets as well - a conversation between really gifted musicians.This is something I like about really good small group instrumentals as well - it sounds like a conversation between friends. The better the musicians, the better it sounds; they can echo and build on the contributions of others, keeping or building on the feel and topic. The Oscar Peterson trio do some really good stuff like this.
Reading through Ake's book Jazz Cultures I've found this quote from Sidney Bechet about rag time:
Bechet made it clear that his joy and creativity were piqued when playing among musicians like those mentioned above who were his peers in improvisational-interplay abilities. And it was the continual challenge of creating sounds that complimented and inspired bandmates that he found to be most satisfying.That's the thing about ragtime... It ain't a writing down where you just play what it says on the paper in front of you, and so long as you do that he arranger, he's taken care of everything else. When you're really playing ragtime, you're feeling it out, you're playing to the other parts, you're waiting to understand what the other man's doing, and then you're going with his feeling, adding what you have of your feeling.(Ake 33)
This is exactly the way I feel about lindy hop. When you're working in a partnership, it's not a matter of performing or completing choreographed moves. It's about responding to your partner, 'waiting to understand what the other is doing'. That's what makes social dancing to live music so freaking damn good. You don't know what's happening next. You don't know what the musicians'll do next. You just have to listen and move and make it up and respond. It's wonderful. Just wonderful.
"waiting to understand what the other is doing" was posted in the category dulwich hill massive and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
April 25, 2009
All of Me: The Complete Discography of Louis Armstrong
Posted by dogpossum on April 25, 2009 7:46 PM | Comments (0)
The Louis Armstrong bit of the jazz discography is really, really big. And that's not counting all the entries with bands other than his own.
They have this neat discography in the library: All of Me: The Complete Discography of Louis Armstrong and I want it. It's a beautifully produced book and something I know I'll keep and use forever. It's just a bit expensive (even in paperback).
"All of Me: The Complete Discography of Louis Armstrong" was posted in the category books and music and objects of desire and research
billie and louis again
Posted by dogpossum on April 25, 2009 7:08 PM | Comments (2)
In the spirit of my last post, have a listen to this lovely version of 'My Sweet Hunk O'Trash'. It's Billie Holiday and Louis Armstrong singing together a couple of years after that film New Orleans was released.
Recording details:
Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday with Sy Oliver's Orchestra: Bernie Privin (trumpet) Louis Armstrong (vcl) Sid Cooper, Johnny Mince (alto sax) Art Drellinger (tenor sax) Pa Nizza (tenor sax, Baritone sax) Billy Kyle (piano) Everett Barksdale (guitar) Joe Benjamin (bass) James Crawford (drums) Billie Holiday (vocal) Sy Oliver (arranger, conductor)
New York, September 30 1949
7543 My sweet hunk o'trash De 24785, DL8701, Br (E)05074, De (F)MU60363, AoH AH64, Br (G)10159LPBM
It's a lovely example of two musicians playing with timing and phrasing. It's a nice song, but it's their delivery, their to-and-fro that makes it nice. The rest of the band isn't terribly interesting; this is a song showcasing the vocals.
I probably wouldn't play this song for dancers. The emphasis on the vocals means that you really have to listen properly to what they're saying and how they're saying it, and that's not really something you can do when you're dancing. It's also really slow, not juicy enough for blues dancing, far too slow for lindy hop. The vocal showcasing means that the rest of the instrumentation is understated. There's not much going on behind Louis and Billie. This can make for fairly dull dancing; when you're dancing, you look for a range of rhythmic and melodic layers. The more aural interest, the more interesting the dancing. Sometimes it's nice to dance simply, but when the tempos are this slow, you're really looking for something more.
Having said that, there are worse songs you could play for dancers.
Btw, if you're as concerned about the racial subtexts at work in New Orleans as I am, check out this article, which goes a little way towards addressing those issues (let's not talk about my desire for 'owning' jazz just yet. This white girl knows she's got some work to do).
I am currently reading my way (very, very slowly) through David Ake's book Jazz Cultures. There's a refreshingly sophisticated approach to race and ethnicity in this book, and though I'm only in the first chapter (I keep stopping to chase and note references), he's already upsetting black/white dichotomies with a discussion of Creole music and culture in New Orleans and complicating issues of whiteness and blackness which are going a long way to reassuring me about jazz studies literature. I don't have much to write about that yet, but I will eventually.
"billie and louis again" was posted in the category djing and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
April 24, 2009
billie holiday and louis armstrong
Posted by dogpossum on April 24, 2009 10:31 AM | Comments (0)
This is a nice clip of Louis Armstrong (and amazing band) playing 'Dixie Music Man' from the 1947 film New Orleans.
The woman with the flowers in her hair is Billie Holiday. The band features Kid Ory, Bunny Berigan and Zutty Singleton (with others) - musicians I've been following through a range of bands lately.
This clip was posted by Rayned on faceplant, and it's timely because I'm obsessed by Armstrong and Holiday at the moment. Yesterday I photocopied all the bits of the Discography referring to Holiday. I'm not going to even try that with Armstrong - there's an entire, huge book devoted to his recordings alone.
It's fascinating to follow these guys through different bands. Both were really amazing musicians with a sense of swing that's really incomparable. You can pick Armstrong's trumpet in any recording, no matter how crappy and crackly. and Billie... her later stuff is really tricky to dance to because she's so clever with phrasing and timing. Sometimes she's so way, way back there behind the beat you're sure she's just about to be out of time completely. I like listening to the way she shapes a band when she's singing with them - with live recordings. She can work around a straight, uptight band and make them sound like they're actually hot. Same goes for Louis - these guys have a sense of timing that's impeccable. Like really good comedians.
('Fireworks', Louis Armstrong & His Hot 5 with Earl Hines, Zutty Singleton 1928)
For my money, Armstrong was really rocking with this small groups in the late 20s. This was a collection of great New Orleans jazz musicians, many of whom began with King Oliver, and most of whom moved on to Chicago and then New York (and further afield). I'm a massive fan of Kid Ory, but I'm also digging Zutty Singleton. I'm a bit of a nut for rhythm sections generally (I think it's because I listen to this stuff as a dancer), and Singleton just keeps popping up in the bands I like.
(That pic of the Armstrong Hot Five is from the Louisiana State Museum site, which is just fascinating.)
I was a little sceptical of the claims made about Armstrong's Hot fives and sevens until I actually sat down and listened to them in chronological order - after the stuff he did supporting singers like Bessie Smith (! powerhouse combo, much? An example: St Louis Blues 1925)), after his work with King Oliver. But before his Orchestra stuff of the 1930s (some of which is a bit dodgy, I've found). I'm not really interested in his stuff after the 50s (though I bet I'll change my mind on that too), and I really don't like 'Hello Dolly' and all that vocal rot. I quite like him doing nice, silky groovy duets with Ella Fitzgerald (many of which included Oscar Peterson), but my real interest in his music is in his late 20s and early 30s stuff when you really hear his approach to timing and nuance signaling musical change: the swing era's coming. But nobody else is really there yet.
(That pic of the Hot five to the right is from this interesting blog)
These Hot Five and Seven bands were really one of the the first real opportunities for Armstrong to experiment with music and musicians on his own terms in his own bands. I think the smaller group allows the sort of group or ensemble improvisation that you just can't keep under control with a big band. The best example of this sort of improvisation usually comes in the final chorus when it sounds as though everyone's doing their own thing (because they are), but are still working together, playing within a particular framework. That's the sort of thing I LOVE as a dancer and DJ because it reminds me of lindy hop - improvisation within structure. I love playing this sort of stuff for dancers because the energy suddenly leaps in that final chorus, and you can end a song (or a set) on a high energy point. I especially love Fats Waller for this. He might begin with a quieter song whose clever lyrics make you listen up carefully, but he ends with a loud, raucous shouting chorus that makes you bust out like a fool on the dance floor.
In a smaller group, Armstrong lets the musicians play in their own ways, but still works as the lynchpin in a fairly complicated musical machine. The ensemble improvisation allows each musician to shine with improvisation, but still maintains a sense of group or collaborative wholeness; it's not just random noise. The musicians were all amazing, including Louis Armstrong on trumpet, Lil Hardin (who became Lil Hardin Armstrong) on piano, Johnny Dodds on clarinet, Kid Ory on trombone and Johnny St. Cyr on banjo. The band's membership changed a little, and the group also recorded as the Hot Seven (there are a range of other names for similar groupings, including a special Savoy small band). Additional musicians included Kid Ory (cornet), Lonnie johnson (guitar), Earl Hines (piano), Zutty Singleton (drums) and a few different vocalists (May Alix is one who catches my eye because she also did work with Jimmie Noone, who I love). The Hot Fives and Sevens recorded between 1925 and 1928 (you can read more about the Hot 5 here on redhotjazz.com).
Just in case you're wondering where the Billie Holiday talk is...
I really like this recording of 'Fine and Mellow'. The musicians are, of course, amazing. It's from 1957, when Billie was already more than a little trashed by drugs and alcohol. But she really was a phenomenal singer. Even as her voice became more and more ragged, her technique and sense of music were indefatigable. The Decca collection liner notes mention that she was the sort of musician (or artist is the term I think they use) who used one or two takes to record songs. She could simply get it right the first time. As the liner notes say, she had an idea of how she was going to do the song, and then she did it. Holiday didn't have the length of career that Armstrong did (he was recording from 1923 (at least) til 1971), she had only a couple of decades), but her music spread from that hot, swinging jazz moment in the 30s and the pop/ballad/jazz feel of the 50s and 60s.
And of course, I've just written a post which presents the history of 'jazz' in terms of two 'artists'. But I think it's important to note that Armstrong's Hot Five were just that - five (or seven, or six) musicians working together. The collective improvisation is really important, this isn't the showcasing of solos of the swing era. This is a group of people working and listening together to make something together. Holiday's work as a vocalist was primarily as a response to the bands and musicians she was working with. Her close friendship with Lester Young is perhaps the best example. There's plenty of anecdotal (and evidence based) discussion of their musical collaboration as a process of listening to and learning from each other. Young is often quoted as being most inspired by vocalist's technique. Holiday is often referred to as emulating Young's saxophone technique. Their musical relationship was indubitably one of collaboration and mutual inspiration. After all, it's very difficult to be a jazz musician all on your own.
"billie holiday and louis armstrong" was posted in the category digging and djing and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
April 22, 2009
mills blue rhythm band madness
Posted by dogpossum on April 22, 2009 1:33 PM | Comments (0)
Here is an experiment with embedding media players. The trouble is, very few of these have the music I'm after. But here's a Mills Blue Rhythm Band song, in honour of 'going complete' and posters on SwingDJs' obsession with the band.
E-36992-A Savage Rhythm (Br 6229, 10303, CJM 23, TOM 57, GAPS (Du) 130, Decca GRD2-69 [CD]
Recorded by the Mills Blue Rhythm Band in New York on the 31st July 1931. Musicians included: Buster Bailey (clarinet), Wardell Jones, Shelton Hemphill, Henry Red Allen (trumpet), George Washington (trombone, arranger), JC Higginbotham (trombone), Gene Mikell (sop, as, bar, clarinet), Joe Garland (ts, bar, clarinet), Edgar Hayes (piano), Lawrence Lucie (guitar), Elmer James (bass), O'Neil Spencer (drums), George Morton (vocal), Benny Carter (arranger), Lucky Millinder (dir).
Note: Date used here as given in Storyville #108 (Rust listed date as July 30, 1931).
Brunswick 6119, 6229 as 'Mills Blue Rhythm Boys'.
Decca GRD2-629 [CD] titled 'An Anthology of big band swing, 1930-1955'; rest of this 2 CD set by others.
Title also on Hep (E)1015, CD1008 [CD].
Title also on Classics 676 [CD] titled 'Mills Blue Rhythm Band 1931-1932'.
NB: below are some very preliminary thoughts I've had after very little research.
I've been spending an awful lot of time in the library lately. It began with the Con's copy of the Tom Lord Jazz Discography. That's twenty-odd volumes of dry and boring nerdery. According to The Squeeze. For a jazz nerd, that's twenty-odd volumes of orsum. I have spent hours in there already. Days. Doing what? Going through my music, adding in dates, full band names, band personnel, recording locations. Extra, extra nerdy. But also quite interesting.
(that's the Wolverines in the Gennett Records studio from this interesting site)
I've gotten much better at identifying when a song was recorded, and I'm getting to know how a band changed or an artist changed over time. And I'm recognising not-so-big-name band members now, which is fascinating. I'm also beginning to be curious about things like travel. A band might have recorded a song on one day in one city, but another song in another city on the next day. This information alone gives you and idea of just how hard these guys worked - travel, travel, record, record, live show, live show. But when you consider the fact that they usually didn't use planes (in the early days especially) and that segregation meant that these musicians were traveling in pretty shitty conditions...
I'm also interested in the way songs were often recorded only once in a session (or ever) in the early days. No time (or money) for second takes. This makes me think about the mad skills these guys had. Or the cost or difficulty of recording. And all one track as well - everyone just playing along all at once, just recording then and there as the technician heard it.
I've just come across a quite from Mary Lou Williams (from a book called The Jazz Scene: an Informal History From New Orleans to 1990 by W. Royal Stokes, 1991) where she talks about just how poor Andy Kirk's band was in Kansas during the depression. The band simply wasn't getting paid for gigs, so the musicians went days without eating. All that, and they're still producing truly amazing, inspired music. Or perhaps because of that?
Though the discography is just awesome (and I will continue to make return trips as my need for detail increases - at first dates were enough. Now I need everything), I have moved on. I want to know who was where in what years. Why did people leave a city at a certain time? What was the relationship between the northern migration, Jim Crow laws and the development of jazz in Chicago, New York and Kansas? What was New Orleans like, exactly?
(that image above is of Canal St, New Orleans in the 1920s from wikipedia. If you're a big map nerd like me, you'll love this collection of historic maps)
So I've been up the university library looking at books. Now, though, I'm thinking more critical questions. How come all the jazz book are written by men? Even the later ones? And what's the significance of jazz scholarship having its roots in jazz criticism? What role did jazz music clubs (clubs for listeners not musicians) play in the New Orleans 'revival' (I'm wary of that term - my thesis has made me suspect a 'revival' is really another word for white middle class folk appropriating black culture)? What are the effects of researching a music using only recordings? Where ARE all the women in these stories?
I'm also wondering about jazz scholarship itself, in bigger ways. Where is the critical reflection? What are the effects of research so focussed on autobiography? The emphasis on auto- and biography is interesting; it suggests that some musicians were simply so great, so awesome, so influential, they created in a cultural and social vacuum, simply churning out greatness for the rest of the world to admire. But that simply isn't the case, of any art; art is created in cultural and social context. So to divorce a musician from the rest of his life (and it is 'his' - there are no women here) suggests that the rest of this life was unimportant. As I've read recently (and I can't find the ref, sorry), this lack invites an immediate investigation.
One of the things that comes up time and again in the oral histories of the period is that, for musicians, listening to other musicians is as important as playing. Young musicians (no matter how 'gifted') would seek out experienced teachers to learn from. Musicians would spend as much time listening to other bands as playing themselves. There's this great bit in one book (the one I ref'd above) where the musician describes listening to a band at the Savoy: there were as many musicians as dancers there, drooling over the amazing band (Savoy Sultans? I can't remember).
And of course, every great musician needed a band. These early jazz recordings are about the relationships between musicians in the band. They don't - cannot - work alone. In fact, no matter how great one musician, they cannot lift an ordinary arrangement or recording to greatness if the rest of the band isn't there, or if they aren't working with the band. At the end of the day, the goal is to produce a great song, a great bit of music. That is the point of a lot of this stuff: it's about collective improvisation in earlier jazz (where everyone mustwork together - order out of chaos) and about collectivism in the more tightly orchestrated big band swing of the 30s and 40s (where musicians must play together, perfectly, must step in at just the right moment for their solo).
This is of course, all besides the point that being a musician was about earning money to buy food or pay rent. This point makes me think about gender and travel. Linda Dahl (in Stormy Weather: The Music and Lives of a Century of Jazzwomen) makes the point that travel, while so central to the live of post-emancipation black men (who's right to travel had been so viciously curtailed under slavery) was impossible for many black women. Women, as the carers of children and the aged could not uproot and travel with a band or to become a musician:
It was in the years of elation, confusion and turmoil following the Civil War that jazz began to take shape. The war brought an end to slavery and to the isolation it imposed, which had prevented among blacks the free exchange of ideas that fertilizes art. With abolition came mobility, if not equality. Many black men wandered, looking for work or luck or new vistas, and music traveled with them. But black women, history tells us, were more likely to stay put and hunker down for new roots. These were women who, as slaves, had carried double, even triple burdens. Not only did they work in the 'big house' or in the fields - as cottonpickers, eve as logrollers and lumberjacks, - but they of course did their own housework, bore their children and cared for their men. After abolition they were hungry for stable family environments, and it was easier for them to find work as cooks, laundresses or maids than for black men to find employment. Although circumstances dictated that they were often the breadwinners, they deferred to their men, especially in matters political. Above all else they devoted themselves to the hope of better lives for their children. Great were the physical and emotional demands upon them, and most found few opportunities and little time or energy for goals beyond survival (Dahl 1992:4).
For women, cultural and social context was absolutely clear and absolutely present in everything they did. While jazz historians can imagine a Sidney Bechet leaving New Orleans and gadding off to Chicago, New York, Paris, a free agent following his art, it is a little more difficult for them to write the stories of women who played and sang music from the home or the family or their (less romantic) place of work. There are many stories of the 'whore house pianists' but far fewer stories of the whores, who were occasionally musicians in their own rights.
Dahl also makes an interesting point about 'anonymous' music:
And black women certainly contriuted their share to the development of this music [jazz]. During slavery they made up songs that both drew upon and became part of everyday experience. 'Anonymous' was often a slave woman who crooned lullabies to the babies she birthed and the babies she reared, who made up ditties at quilting and husking bees or while she planted in the fields and tended her garden, who created music in her capacity as midwife and healer, at funerals and dances and in church, who developed distinctive vendor calls as she sold her wares. 'Anonymous' invented music to meet the occcasion out of a communal pool of musical-religious traditions. Women and men stripped of their names passed on standards and tribel memory to those who came after (Dahl 1992:4).
That point, of course, leads us to a discussion of black women blues singers in the 20s. But I don't have the time now, and I haven't read the books I have here. But I was very interested in this link between 'jazz history' and race and class and gender. I need more information, though.
This anonymity was the product of domesticity and 'everydayness'; simply made invisible through its very ordinariness and ubiquity. It was not framed or positioned as 'art', and so it was invisible. This reminds me of discussions about vernacular dance. It's only when it takes to the stage (and away from its mutability and use-value in everyday life) that it becomes visible to mainstream or elite audiences. This is perhaps the greatest problem with reading white histories of black music: these observers could only 'see' jazz or black music when it was on a stage, or in a recording, stripped of its everydayness. And these spaces were not accessible for many black women.
Reading jazz as a history made up of one great 'artist' after another is, then, highly problematic. I'm also wondering about the other, dominant approach: reading jazz as a history of a series of cities (New Orleans, Chicago, Kansas, New York). What about the 'territories' of the midwest, a series of smaller towns and cities strung together on the route of itinerant bands which played only to these towns and rarely (if ever) recorded? Perhaps, as the territories suggest, it's more useful to think about these cities as sites in a network of 'jazz place/space'. I want to follow up the idea of travel in early jazz - from the northern migration to individual bands and musicians migrating between cities and countries.
(There are some nice pics in this neat little article about territory bands).
Note: I've just found this interesting interview with Tim Brooks, author of Lost Sounds: Blacks and the Birth of the Recording Industry, 1890 - 1919. This book is on my list of 'things to find'. And of course, if you're interested in the early days of the American recording industry, the David Suisman article 'Co-workers in the kingdom of culture: Black Swan Records and the political economy of African American music' is a great resource.
"mills blue rhythm band madness" was posted in the category djing and lindy hop and other dances and music and research
About dogpossum
i live in
contact
dogpossum at this domainelsewhere
http://twitter.com/dogpossumhttp://8tracks.com/dogpossum
MLX5
MLX6
MLX7
MLX8
MJDA
Salty Mama
Powered by Movable Type 4.32-en | Syndicate this site (XML) | 
This weblog is licensed under a Creative Commons License
This weblog is licensed under a Creative Commons License