Brian Clardy

Dr. Clardy is an Assistant Professor of History at Murray State. He can be reached at brian.clardy@murraystate.edu

On Herbie Hancock and the Vindication of Jazz

Towards the end of the Grammy awards ceremonies in 2008, I began to brace myself for the inevitable. In my mind, the award for “Album of the Year” was either going go to Amy Winehouse or Kanye West, and to be honest I was banking on the latter. Looking at his prayerful expression on television that night, I think Kanye did too. But when Herbie Hancock’s “River: The Joni Letters” was declared the winner, I was completely dumbfounded, yet pleased. It had been well over fifty years since a serious jazz album came close to such an honor, but it was one that was well deserved.

Herbie Hancock’s story is one forged in both the saga of prodigy and active positive collaboration. As a young pianist, he had the honor of performing Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s “Piano Concerto No. 5 in D Major” with the renowned Chicago Symphony Orchestra, this was in the period before the great Fritz Reiner became its musical director. Living in Chicago as an on-again/off-again college student, Hancock worked as a sideman with a number of area musicians, including a young drummer named Tony Williams who introduced him to the great trumpeter Miles Davis.

It was Hancock’s association with Davis that would put him on the path towards innovation, fame, and notoriety. The great Miles Davis Quintet was perhaps one of the greatest music ensembles in the history of American jazz as it highlighted, Davis, Williams, and Hancock, but also the up and coming saxophonist Wayne Shorter and celebrated bassist Ron Carter. Throughout the 1960s, the group released a number of ground breaking albums that didn’t simply “push the boundaries of jazz,” as some maintain with tongue-in-cheek, but those records set a brand new standard for future jazz ensembles to meet.

As jazz trended towards rock and fusion, Herbie Hancock’s craft followed along that path. The “Headhunters” recordings of the 1970s were the archetype albums for the burgeoning fusion movement. His contribution to the movie “The Spook Who sat by the Door,” based upon Chicago writer Sam Greenlee’s novel was one of the more innovative soundtracks within the blaxploitation genre. And his 1983 smash hit, “Rock It” was the definitive recording that help to popularize that decade’s “break dancing” craze.

But as jazz began to return to its more conventional roots in the late 1980s, Hancock’s innovative collaborations with Wayne Shorter, Dexter Gordon, and Bobby Hutcherson led the charge for mainstream jazz’s seeming revival. Hancock’s appearance in the 1986 movie, “Round Midnight” helped to expose both him and mainstream jazz to younger audiences throughout the 1980s and 90s.

In September 2000, I was at Grant Park for the annual Chicago Jazz Festival where he and paired drummer Terri Lynne Carrington to give an outstanding concert featuring new arrangements and some old Hancock standards. Needless to say, when Hancock played the first two chords of his 1965 hit, “Maiden Voyage,” the crowd went wild. And four years later, I was blessed to have seen Hancock and Shorter perform at Chicago’s Symphony Center one Good Friday to a sold out house.

So when Herbie Hancock stood to receive the Grammy for “Album of the Year,” it seemed like an arrival to a great journey that began many years ago with a child genius whose musical innovations would shape the very nature of jazz: America’s true and original art form.

The Humanity of Louis Armstrong

Marthamary Scherer has a very interesting story to tell.

It was Christmas Day 1965 at the Nevada State Children’s Home, when the children were greeted by a very special visitor; jazz great Louis Armstrong. Along with Nevada Governor Grant Sawyer and pop vocalist Barbara Streisand, Armstrong had come to play “Santa Claus” for an audience of about 60 children. Little Marthamary had just crawled into Santa Sachtmo’s lap to tell him her yuletide requests, when a disturbing episode erupted out of nowhere. Marthamary’s mother, who was also visiting the home, showed up totally inebriated and disheveled singing a tortured version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” Marthamary was embarrassed. But this was nothing more than just the latest in a series of abusive incidences that landed the child in the custody of state care.

In Marthamary’s words, many such incidences of maternal embarrassment, mistreatment, and psychological torment had taken place on the grounds of the children’s home, with little, if any, reaction from the staff.  She writes, “My mother often took us to the enclosed playground for [the approved visits], surrounding this fenced the playground were three cottages in view. I often saw the counselors and children looking out the windows watching my mother abuse me. No one came to my rescue and no one told the Superintendent, or if they did, they must have thought I deserved it.”

But during Louis Armstrong’s visit to the children’s home that fateful afternoon, the jazz great was the one voice that stood up for a defenseless child that he had never met before.

Satchmo whispered into Marthamary’s ear, “Who is that woman?” And when the child responded that it was her mother, he was indignant. He jumped out and shouted, “Woman who do you think you are coming in here like this? This is a party for children, you children!!! How could you do this to them???” The same energy that Armstrong had brought to the concert stage and the recording studio for over four decades was now being focused on defending a child from continued brutality.

Louis Armstrong could easily identify with Marthamary’s plight because as a young child he too grew up in poverty and had been placed in the New Orleans area “Colored Waif’s Home for Boys.” He understood the hard and tainted reality of growing up in an abusive situation that was complicated by privation and neglect. Thus, he had a fond place in his heart for children, especially those who had been placed into state care. And this concern found its best expression in his care for Marthamary Scherer.

It is here that we see the simple humanity of Louis Armstrong as an organic activist who spoke plainly about the plight of those that society had discarded. Armstrong’s love and concern for the defenseless was borne of a pain and hurt that transcended the barriers of race and forged a unique relationship with the souls of human beings. You see, Louis Armstrong was more than just an innovative musician. He was truly a strong voice that articulated concern for those who could not speak adequately for themselves. And at the heart of this advocacy lies his true greatness.

	Photos Courtesy of Nevada State Library & Archives

Benny Golson and the Art of Jazz Composition

When the history of the post be-bop era is written, a significant portion of the first chapter will have to be dedicated to Benny Golson.

A graduate of Washington, DC’s world famous Howard University, Benny Golson had already earned a great reputation as a great musician, having performed with John Coltrane, the Heath Brothers, and the innovative drummer Philly Joe Jones. But throughout the 1950s, his collaborations with the ground-breaking bandleader Tadd Dameron really put him on the path to stardom.

He is more than just a mere musician; he has become the music’s most articulate spokesperson when it comes to the art of composition and performance. A significant number of his tunes have become a part of the jazz canon: “Whisper Not,” “Along Came Betty,” “I Remember Clifford,” and “Killer Joe.” These numbers have been interpreted by a number of jazz musicians over the years, and they become synonymous with the sheer brilliance of this living legend.

“Whisper Not” is a very mellow track that evokes a number of emotions in listeners from whimsical to introspective. The melodious combination of the trumpet and saxophone at the start of the work, give “Whisper Not” its signature sound, but leaves plenty of room for improvisation among musicians once they have departed the melody.

Personally, I have very fond memories of Golson’s “Along Came Betty.” It was at the September 2001 Chicago Jazz Festival where his ensemble performed this work with such exceptional musicians as bassist Buster Williams and pianist Mulgrew Miller. As the musicians played on top of and (seemingly) under the melody, there were a few fans who got up out of their seats to dance. “Along Came Betty” is the perfect number for dancing, as well as for great background music at elegant social gatherings.

“I Remember Clifford, “Golson’s touching tribute to the late jazz trumpeter Clifford Brown, evokes the memory of a great musician taken from us too soon. Brown, who died in a car accident in 1956, was believed to have been one of the up and coming musicians of his time. And although his discography was quite small, Brown left an impressive body of work that has influenced musicians over the last half century. Benny Golson’s classic composition to Brown’s memory is, overall, a beautiful homage.

And finally, Golson’s “Killer Joe” is the single most recognizable of all his compositions. It is a happy and upbeat work that, for me, evokes images of a couple going out on the town amidst the lights and energy of the city. It has been used in television commercials to sell automobiles, and has been covered in vocalese form by various artists such as The Manhattan Transfer.

Golson still records a number of stellar studio albums, gives performances on the concert stage, and recently recoded the soundtrack to the Tom Hanks movie, “The Terminal.” I suspect that he will continue to add to the depth and variety of his great musical contributions for some time to come.

Remembering William F. Buckley Jr.

One of the more interesting aspects of my high school years was becoming engaged in American civil discourse through talking to my family over dinners, or discussing issues with fellow public library patrons, church members, or a couple of my high school teachers. Whether it was President Reagan’s “Peace Through Strength” strategy in dealing with the Soviets, or the merits of “supply side economics,” those high school dialogues were very enlightening. What’s more is that it put me on the path to making a life out of discussing and contributing to the “marketplace of ideas.”

The one public figure to which I will always be eternally grateful for this interest was columnist and commentator William F. Buckley, Jr. I used to look forward to Saturday afternoons, not because of the cartoons or the afternoon college football games, but because of one thirty minute talk show that I was completely addicted to: William F. Buckley, Jr.’s “Firing Line.” I made sure that my homework and chores were done and that there were no interruptions so that at 4pm I would be in place to watch Buckley’s latest interviews and listen to his insightful comments. And sure enough, the third movement of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 in F major” would play as the opening credits to the broadcast were flashed on the screen.

Sitting back in his chair, his notepad in tow, Bill Buckley would give a long erudite lecture to the audience as he introduced his guest. And then, the intense questioning would begin. Buckley never had guests on the show who were boring, or who would not add spark to the conversation. It was as if Buckley enjoyed the intellectual give and take of a serious dialgoue on issues ranging from the Cold War to trends in theology to the economic theories of Adam Smith.

For thirty minutes, I was glued to the television, taking notes and determining what book I was going to check out of the Fulton Public Library………because in my 16 year old calculus, some of what Buckley said went completely over my head at times. But I found his genius to be helpful as it helped me to build both a mental bibliography and an extensive political/philosohpical vocabulary. And during the Holiday Season, I waited with baited breath for the rebroadcast of his extensive interview with theologian and social critic Malcom Muggeridge. It was a very lively exchange that never got boring or old. And with each year’s redux, I learned a new and indepth perspective on life, the nature of the Divine, and the importance of  faithful devotion.

My interest in Buckley’s work did not end with high school graduation, I continued to watch his show all the way up to its  end in 1999. When Buckley released a new Blackford Oakes novel, I snatched it up. And when he would appear on television to promote a new book on politics, I made sure that I bought a copy. But simply reading Bill Buckley’s books and articles would not satisfy my interest. I wanted to meet him. In April 1997, I got my chance.

Southeast Missouri State University was about to inaugurate Dr. Dale Nitzschke as its Sixteenth President, and as part of its celebration, the school sponsored a debate between former Senator (and 1972 Democratic presidential nominee) George McGovern and William F. Buckley, Jr. But there was only one slight problem……..I was a graduate teaching assistant in the Black American Studies program and I had to teach classes all that day. So I talked to my department chairman, Dr. Robert Guthrie, about chartering a bus to take the students to see the debate. And in a miracle of life changing proportions, Dr. Guthrie not only agreed, but there were funds available to rent out a bus and hire a driver to take us to and from the debate in Cape Girardeau. After having successfully crashed the continental breakfast, I met my idol at last and I got to thank him for his impact on my thinking and my life in general.

I have constantly revisited those life altering moments since his passing on February 27th.  Bill Buckley was not just a towering figure in the intellectual life of America in the second half of the Twentieth Century, but his ideas and contributions to American civil discourse forever influenced the life of an overly ambitious young kid from rural Northwest Tennessee so many years ago.

A Touch of Class: Fond Remembrances of the Lenten Season

For me, Lent has always had dual connotations. On one hand, the season is synonymous with sacrifice, spiritual reflection, and seeking a higher plane of existence. And on the other, the period echoes with fond remembrances of a childhood event that I really didn’t appreciate until I got much older.

The St. Paul African Methodist Episcopal Church in South Fulton, Tennessee used to have a weekly tradition during the Lenten season that evoked a major degree of class and sophistication within the context of seriously pious contemplation. From the 1940s until the mid 1990s, a member of the congregation would sponsor a weekly tea in their home that was open to both the congregation and the public. The host only requested a small “love offering” that would be collected and turned into the church on Easter Sunday morning. It was always the one weekly treat that most of us looked forward to.

My uncle, who was the president of the choir, was always summoned to make the pot of tea for every single host who requested it; he was known as the true expert when it came to making it. To watch him put the concoction together was like watching an engineer construct a complex suspension bridge. The first ingredient was ordinary orange pekoke tea bags, followed by two healthy cups of pure cane sugar, a nice dose of allspice, and fresh cut lemons. This was the old “Toiler’s Club” recipe that was first used by Mrs. Lucille Cavitt, then passed to her sister, and then passed down to her fellow parishioner (my uncle); the tea recipe was given (I thought) a very telling and catchy title, “Methodist Tea.”

Once the pot of tea had been prepared, it fell on the host to make the rest of the afternoon’s festivities worth while. Servings of petit fours, watercress sandwiches, tea biscuits, dessert mints, salted peanuts, and fruit punch always decorated the various tables as parishioners poured in wearing their Sunday finest. The scene always reminded me of the popular miniseries Upstairs/Downstairs, or some other episode from a BBC drama; only this setting included well dressed and sophisticated Black men and women from rural Northwest Tennessee.

For the next few hours, with the music of either James Cleveland or Mahilia Jackson playing in the background, we would sit around sipping tea and discussing the latest conference directive from the Bishop, the presidential primaries, the nature of the Soviet threat (my favorite topic) or what  college basketball team we thought would win the Final Four.

Those of us born in the post 1965 crowd really enjoyed these festive events because it afforded us the opportunity to share in the latest playground intrigue, and to trade a few running jokes……….especially that ONE gag that earned us more than a few disapproving looks from the adults who understood the story behind it. But more than anything, the Lenten teas provided us kids with a degree of socialization that was virtually unheard of among our peers as I discovered when I went away to college and even to the urban north some years later.

So from the somber ceremonies of Ash Wednesday to the anticipatory vigil leading up to Easter morning, my mind remembers those wonderful times with a degree of longing and nostalgia about a simple time where we were trained in social graces, the art of intelligent conversation, and enjoyed a great cup of tea to boot.

Now I Understand Why the Elvis Fans Visit Graceland

There was one complication, but one that had a quick and simple solution. The WFMT tour was scheduled at the same time as Finals Week, and so I went down to my travel agent in Fulton to see if there were any trips to Central Europe for late May/early June. Sure enough there was one that would take me to each of those three cities, and several more for a price about the same as the one the Chicago station was offering. Naturally I jumped at the chance.

I flew out of Nashville to catch a connecting flight to Detroit, and from there to London’s Gatwick Airport. After a couple nights in London, we left for the Continent by boat across the Channel to Calais, France to meet our tour guide. 

Brussels, Belgium was nice I thought, and Trier, Germany was even more interesting. But for me, the celebration began when our coach bus departed Frankfurt on the way to Salzburg. It was raining, nasty and cold, but I was excited like a small kid on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa to arrive.

Around, 4:30pm, Jean-Claude (our bus driver) reached the German/Austrian border. And it seemed that within the span of a few moments we were to reach our destination. The bus was filled with the sounds of the first movement of Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.” I looked out of the right side of the window and there it was, a red stag standing under a tree and a few miles in the distance was the Fortress Hohensalzburg, the building that I connected to the city from the video of James Levine conducting a production of Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” from the 1982 music festival.

We had arrived, but we would not make the pilgrimage to Mozart’s actual birthplace until morning.

Around 7am, our tour group ate breakfast at the Pension where we had spent the night, and then we loaded up the coach to pay our respects to the Great Man himself. The weather was kind of chilly and misty, but it was the perfect metaphor for some of Mozart’s more somber works like “The Requiem” that I was listening to on my walkman.

We finally arrived outside a beautifully painted yellow building that marked the place where Mozart entered this life. Getreidegasse Number #9 was packed with tourists, snapping pictures and being jovial as a small quartet played a  medley of Mozart’s chamber pieces in the background.

All of us who have felt a life long love and afinity for Mozart’s music were bound  to a single moment in time where we felt a spiritual connection  to a composer who changed the course of history. Wow!” I thought,  “Now I see why the Elvis fans go to Graceland.”

Later that afternoon, we left for Vienna to attend a concert at the world famous Kursalon. There, the Sounds of Vienna delighted us with performances by some of the city’s favorite sons: Mozart and Johann Strauss.

As the Summer sun rose over the Gloriette, our group was back in pilgrimage mode. We walked past the Starbucks (one of several in Vienna) and near the St. Stephan’s Cathedral. I veered left, taking a detour from the guided tour, to go down to Mozarthaus to see the last standing apartment building where Herr Mozart lived and worked. And I seemed at every turn, a shop was selling Mozart chocolates…..I think I bought enough to feed a small army.

About three days later, after making stops in Lake Balaton and Budapest, Hungary, our group arrived in Prague, The Czech Republic where Mozart’s great opera “Don Giovanni” was debuted in 1787. Walking the streets of that great Bohemian city, I saw many of the buildings that were featured in director Milos Forman’s 1984 bio-pic, “Amadeus.” For me, the history and simple beauty of that city brought that movie alive in a way that could not be fathomed.

As we returned back to London for the trip home, I thought about how much Mozart’s music has meant to me over the years, but also to millions of adoring fans over the last two and half centuries. While many years have come and gone since the world was blessed with his presence, its safe to say that Mozart’s music and contributions to the arts can be summed up in one word: timeless.



A New Years Eve to Remember

Listen to the audio of this commentary here.

Around late October, 2003, I got an email from Jennifer Elling, the beautiful and talented wife of jazz vocalist, Kurt Elling. I thought it was a routine email sent out to the members of Kurt’s email list, so I put it on my priority list to answer after my morning lecture. As I finished up my spiel on Madison and the meaning of the American Founding, I checked Jennifer’s email and it was a personal invitation to attend a performance at the Green Mill in Chicago as Kurt was asked to participate in NPR”s “Toast of the Nation.” While the price was a little steep, I thought, for priority seating, I decided after to go. After all…Kurt was (and is) my favorite artist and this would be a great opportunity to start the New Year with his music.

I was going to ask one of my friends, let’s call her Veronica, to go. But she was determined to be in church for Watch Night service. Now…I love the Good Lord just like anyone else……..but this was Kurt Elling….and I figured that Elohim would understand.

And so I settled on another female acquaintance from my church and made plans to hear Kurt.

When we got there, a tall muscular dude stood at the door receiving the cover charge and checking the dress code. He looked at me with this Lurch meets Alfred Hitchcock glare, checked our names on the list and gave an officious nod for us to go in.

Just as I thought, the club was packed, not just with Kurt Fans, but with NPR technical staff doing mic checks and reviewing scripts so that the live broadcast would go off without a hitch.

As we took our seats, Kurt emerged from behind one of the speakers. We exchanged a soul shake and a Happy New Year, and talked about the evening event to come. But it seemed that Kurt talked a little…..no a lot….congested. He was getting over a severe cold that almost resulted in the program being canceled. But he was the trooper, just the same. And with a beaming Jennifer in tow, and with a number of great guest artists like vibraphonist Stefon Harris and sax man Ed Peterson sitting in, we knew we would hear something special.

When WBEZ’s Richard Steele introduced the Kurt Elling Quartet, the anticipation was at its height. Kurt opened with “Easy Living” from this “Flirting With Twilight” album and after a few more numbers Kurt launched into an accappela Gregorian chant as an introduction to his Grammy nominated title track “Man in the Air.”

As the midnight approached, Kurt and the group began to perform a tune that he had written for the Millennium celebration, this served as the pretext for singing “Auld Lang Syne” when the clock struck 12. It was perfectly orchestrated. But as the confetti fell and the noisemakers were silenced, Kurt broke into signing “Resolution,” his vocalese of John Coltrane’s tune from the “A Love Supreme.” Only Kurt Elling would put the two together……New Year’s Day……and “Resolution.”

Get it?

The “Toast of the Nation” live concert was a great way to welcome 2004.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Listen to the audio of this commentary here.

It’s almost hard to imagine a time when the Charlie Brown Christmas Special was not a part of holiday celebrations. The main character, Charlie, is everyone’s favorite near do well, but this time he is put in place of organizing the neighborhood Christmas pageant. And, true to form, nothing is going well.

But Charlie’s frustrations aren’t simply derived from the theatrical fiasco that is certain to come. His angst is driven by the fact that he simply doesn’t understand Christmas, as he feels that it has been obfuscated by mindless commercialism. What’s worse, is that his dog, Snoopy, has been caught up in the maelstrom of “bling bling “culture. 

But at the height of Charlie’s frustration, his friend (and faithful sage) Linus, explains the meaning of the holiday with a touching recitation of the Gospel According to Luke. This gives Charlie a new purpose to celebrating this holiday. However, when he tries to decorate the nearly dying Christmas tree that he bought for the pageant, the tree slumps over and expires, leaving Charlie dejected again.

However, in a miracle of almost Biblical proportions, Charlie’s friends take pity on the tree, and with the simple wave of their hands, the tree is full and plush. Charlie, who ponders this miraculous sight, is caught up in this awestruck moment. His friends wish him a boisterous “Merry Christmas” and launch into a chorus of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” as the credits roll.

This story has been broadcast on network television for over forty years now, and viewing it has become, for some, an annual holiday ritual. But the most significant part of the program, for me, is its hip soundtrack performed by the Vince Guaraldi Trio. This album was a key example of the great innovations of the West Coast jazz sound that emerged in the late 1940s. It is the quintessential “hip” sound of the late bop period.

Accompanying Guaraldi on piano is bassist Monty Budwig, and drummer Colin Bailey. The sound is very smooth and soothing as it is the perfect accompaniment to the holiday season. It is picturesque and can invoke a plethora of Christmas memories for the 55 and under crowd.

Take for example, “Skating,” which is my favorite tune from the album. A listener can easy close their eyes and picture couples and children on a crowded skating rink as they enjoy the lights and brisk air of Christmastide.

And another example of this album’s sheer brilliance is the cartoon’s opening number, “Christmastime Is Here,” which has been remade by such varied artists as Cyrus Chestnut, the Harlem Boys Choir, or maybe even your own neighborhood children’s chorus. On this track the beauty and anticipation of the season is being heralded in a moving and meaningful way.

And of course, the signature Charlie Brown tune “Linus and Lucy” is a great dance number….although there is one thing about this tune that has always amused me. In the cartoon, it seems as though Snoopy is doing a Thelonius Monk meets Charlie Mingus meets Fred Sanford dancing tizzy as the lovable beagle plays his oversized contra bass.

Whether listeners are new to this historic cartoon and recording, or if it is a perennial hit, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” has become the seminal soundtrack of the holiday season. And has such it has become an integral part of a delightful celebration of wonder.

The Meaning of Kwanzaa
By Dr. Brian K. Clardy and Dr. Debbie A. Owens

Kwanzaa is an African American celebration based on African harvest festivals. It was developed in 1966 by California philosopher and scholar, Dr. Maulana Karenga. Karenga’s studies of traditional African societies led him to develop a similar custom in America. As in African societies, Kwanzaa is based upon seven basic principles called the “Nguzo Saba." Kwanzaa is not considered a religious holiday, or an alternative to Christmas. Rather, it is considered a cultural statement that makes Black people aware of their history and heritage. And for the past four decades, thousands of Black families have embraced the Kwanzaa tradition and incorporated it into their holiday celebrations.

Symbols used in the Kwanzaa celebration include harvest corn (as it represents the number of children in the family), a straw mat, and a candleholder (in which a candle is lit for the seven days and principles of Kwanzaa). Also, gifts are exchanged. Ultimately, Kwanzaa is a time of rejoicing, reflection, and renewed commitment shared by both the family and community.

The first principle is Umoja (Unity)
Umoja stresses the unity of the family and broader community within the context of a defined and structured framework.

The second principle is Kujichagulia (Self-Determination)
Of special significance is the ability of a people to name and define themselves in broader terms, rather than to accept negative and degrading labels that are imposed upon them.

The third prinicple is Ujima (Collective Work and Responsibility)
Here, any hint of idleness, selfishness, or slacking is strongly discouraged. Rather, Ujima calls upon the celebrants to work as a collective body for the uplift of its people. This principle best encapsulates an African adage that says, “I am, because WE are!”

The fourth principle is Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics)
Deriving itself from the principles of Booker T. Washington and Marcus Garvey, this idea places central importance upon the economic power and potential within the community and how that power can be harnessed through the principle of free enterprise prosperity.

The fifth principle is Nia (Purpose)
The above stated principles are useless unless they are guided by a unity of purpose and attainable goals that define the very existance of an empowered community.

The sixth principle is kuumba (Creativity)
Here, the community seeks to utilize its active-positive creative energies to beautify the community and make it conducive for thought and growth. Moreover, the ultimate goal of this ideal is to pass down an energized and independently fashioned community to the next generation, who will in turn continue its creative vision.

And the final principle is imani (Faith)
With a steadfast belief in the righteoussness of the above principles, the community expresses faith in their lineage, their contemporary selves, in their future generations.

Dr. Debbie A. Owens is an Associate Professor of Journalism and Mass Communications.

Between Town and Family in South Fulton, TN: A Hometown Christmas

Listen to the audio of this commentary here.

One of the reasons, I enjoy the holidays is because of our family traditions. For our family, Christmas time usually begins on the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day as we sit around after dinner planning where we are going to shop, and when we will put up our household Christmas trees. Over dessert and coffee, we discuss what we got who last year and who will either be added to the list or scratched off because, “They don’t ever give me anything, so why bother?”  But sometimes a shade of conscience creeps in and we end up buying that thoughtless family member or acquaintance a present anyway.

Our Christmas planning often takes weeks of shopping, menu design, going to the hair dresser, or the barbershop and memorizing Christmas “speeches” and readings for the church service. Then of course, there are our annual television Christmas shows.  Our family has always enjoyed “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas,” and “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” But one neighborhood favorite was always “A Year without a Santa Claus,” or as we kids dubbed it, “Heat Miser.” Heat Miser was always a loveable, slightly unattractive character with tall unkept red hair and a terrible disposition. Yet, he provided for us much comedy relief and a few running jokes about some of the neighborhood kids who bore a resemblance to him.

As Christmas Eve approaches everything is nearly in place. Family members arrive, as do the packages from those who can’t make it in to celebrate. We usually burn up the phone lines trying to figure out if our packages made it to their destinations, and about 99% of the time they have.  The smells of turkey and stuffing, chitterlings and homemade desserts waft through the various households and down the street.The chances are good that someone in the neighborhood has made a batch of apple wine and chocolate nougat liqueur.  And I with, empty gallon bottle in hand, stand on their porch like a hungry stray cat wait for my share of Christmas cheer.

And then after last minute details are handled on Christmas Eve, the vigil begins. The last of the packages are wrapped and the family dinners begin. I always herald the day by watching the Christmas Eve Mass from the Vatican, which I find a very beautiful and meaningful ritual. Christmas morning is always greeted by a nice country ham breakfast, usually interrupted by telephone calls by family members as far as London, Las Vegas, San Diego, and New York City, and Albuquerque….and as a close as Bates, Enterprise, and Taylor Streets.
The moment of truth comes as we open our presents, and I usually offer a silent prayer that I don’t receive a loud 1970s styled tie (What were they thinking?) And finally, we make the house available to receive company as we haul the boxes and torn wrapping paper onto the compost heap.

Nat King Cole’s “Christmas Song,” Charles Brown’s “Please Come Home for Christmas,” and The Temptations’ “Silent Night” often plays in the background for family get-togethers and reunions with former classmates and neighbors who drop by to pay a visit. My cousins and I sit around screaming at the television as we watch the evening basketball and football games. And as the day ends, we spend time talking about the day and whether it was a “good Christmas” or not. But who are we kidding; it is about 95% of the time. Our family celebrations are more than commercialism material gain, and culinary hedonism. They are about love and tradition, understanding the true meaning of the day, and cherishing our time honored family traditions.

On Christmastime and Loss

Listen to the audio of this commentary here.

One of the down sides of this holiday season is the often bittersweet feelings that accompany the music. While Holiday music for some may bring happy anticipation and memories, for some it can be a painful reminder of the loss of a loved one. Trust me, I know that feeling well, and I want to share one of those with you.

When she was alive, she took Christmas very seriously. Whether it was shopping and wrapping presents, or waking up early in the morning of Christmas Eve baking all of our favorite holiday delights, she embodied the spirit of the season. But one brisk Saturday afternoon in September, she was gone and our lives changed forever.

We knew that she would not be there to celebrate the holidays with us. Like Dickens’ fictional character Tiny Tim, there was an empty chair by the fire and a cane without an owner. And in her absence a family was in great mourning.

To break the doldrums, a group of us decided to launch a new holiday tradition, to go out to eat dinner at a local restaurant on Christmas Eve night. We kept each other company and talked in order to alleviate the pale of a still painful grief. But when we all got back to our homes, we had to come to grips that this would be the very first Christmas in our lives without our caretaker, guide,  mother, aunt, and grandmother. However, my own personal grief would be replaced later that night with understanding and a degree of consolation….and it would happen in a very miraculous way.

For some strange reason, while channel surfing, I came across a holiday documentary, on of all people, St. Francis of Assisi….someone I had never heard of…..but then again how many 14 year olds study Franciscan theology?

St. Francis’s life was being recounted on television, as was his healing and introspective philosophy when I was personally at my lowest ebb. The documentary spoke of St. Francis’ emphasis on the beauty of nature in all its forms and how the pursuit of peace and equilibrium within nature were at the heart of our existence. It was in that moment that it dawned on me that death was a part of living and that my feelings of loss were totally consistent with what it was to be human.

I learned from St. Francis that it was alright to grieve my grandmother’s loss as long as it did not become debilitating, and that the shared collective grief of our family could be fashioned into a new found solidarity of purpose. Moreover, I discovered that in time, each day would grow from grief and sadness to a celebration of her life and that she would want us to press on and live our own lives to the fullest.

Call me a bit melodramatic, but it seemed that within the span of that one hour program, my grandmother and St. Francis had both spoken to my own mind from the Great Beyond. Needless to say, it made Christmas 1981 a little more bearable. And with each passing day after that, we began to move towards normalcy.

While that holiday season was among the saddest of my childhood, it also marked the beginning of a new found maturity. And it allowed me to tell my listeners who are facing loss this holiday season….”Hold on…..you can make it!”

The Many Sounds of Jazz 5: Chick Corea

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Sometimes I think that the word “genius” is overly used, and trust me I use it to describe artists to a fault. But in the case of Chick Corea, I think it is an accurate description.This artist has been an icon in the jazz industry for well over 40 years and his music has never gotten passé. Whether it is in fusion pieces, acoustic ensembles, or even solo work, Chick Corea’s sound gets richer with each new work. And not only is the consummate performer, Chick is a composer par excellence.His works include such challenging and varied compositions as “Spain,” “Terminal Baggage Claim,” “Paint the World,” and “Now She sings…Now She Sobs.”

My first exposure to Chick did not come in the smoky jazz clubs of Chicago. Rather, it came one Thanksgiving weekend in South Fulton, TN. I was only 16. At that age, my musical vocabulary was limited to groups like Cameo, The Police, and The Beatles……yeah you heard me…..The Beatles. So when an older cousin came home from college, he wanted me to hear Chick’s “The Leprechaun” album, as well as some of Chick’s work with the fusion ensemble, Return to Forever. I liked what I heard, but I can’t say that I had been converted…. yet. But Chick’s work still resonated with me, at least on a subconscious level, because of the existential basis of his compositions. I began to see Chick’s writing as part of an inquisitive spiritual journey in which he never quite arrives at a complete answer to what he is seeking. Nevertheless, Chick seeks to communicate with his audience what he has discovered. And with each new composition and album release, his conversation gets richer and more profound.

The thing about Chick Corea that is so terribly overlooked is that he has ended the “acoustic versus electronic jazz” argument once and for all.While he is remembered most for his fusion pieces, we have to remember that he started out playing hard bop and 12 tone jazz pieces in the same vein as Herbie Hancock, Bud Powell, and Cecil Taylor. The best example of his acoustic work includes albums like 1968’s “Now She sings…Now She Sobs” featuring drummer Roy Haynes and bassist Miroslav Vitous. And similar recordings like “Inner Space” seemed to fit very well with the burgeoning fusion phase of jazz.  With the “Return to Forever” and Chick Corea Electric Band recordings of the 1970s and 80s, Chick expanded his own audience and brought fans to jazz who would otherwise not have been drawn to it.

But it was in the early 80s, that Chick began to consummate the marriage of acoustic and fusion jazz that has brought nothing but good things to the music as a whole. His collaborations with such varied artists as Lenny White, John Pattitucci, Avishai Cohen, and Gary Burton, are just as exciting as some of his early works. His albums recorded for
the now defunct Grusin-Rosen Productions are a study of how an artist can manage both the demands of fusion music with the tradition of the acoustic genre quite well. His contribution can’t help but grow his audience of fans who enjoy electronic music, as well as win the respect of jazz purists, albeit at times grudging.

Chick Corea’s legacy is still being told with each new collaboration and performance. And when the history of American jazz is written, an entire chapter has to be written about the scope and influence of his music. We are witnessing the birth and constant rebirth of a true legend.

The Many Sounds of Jazz 4: The Artistry of Charles Lloyd

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In early November 2003, I picked up a copy of “The Chicago Reader” and turned to the “Upcoming Events” section so that I could plan my weekend. When I got to the “Jazz” category, I saw where SBC was sponsoring a concert at Orchestra Hall, as part of its jazz series, featuring the great tenor sax man, Charles Lloyd. To be honest, I’d never heard of him. So being curious and intrigued, I decided to do some research by heading over to my favorite record store after work. I purchased a copy of his recent double album on the ECM label, “Lift Every Voice.”

The “Lift Every Voice” recording was a very mellow album that had some tinge of both the avant garde and hard bop influences. The track that really captured my imagination was his cover of Billy Strayhorn’s classic composition “Blood Count.” And this, to me, was the single best interpretation of that work.

That day, I sat in the café drinking my latte and reading the liner notes and I noticed that he had put together a very impressive ensemble of great studio musicians: Bob Hurst, Geri Allen, Eric Harland, and John Abercrombie. Hurst had worked for a number of years with Wynton Marsalis and Geri was a great jazz pianist in her own right.After listening to the album, and finding out that Lloyd was born in my home state of Tennessee (and that he had studied under great Memphis jazz man Phineas Newborn), I decided to go to the concert that Friday evening.

I remember the night as being very chilly and somber, a perfect metaphor of the evening’s events to come.The auditorium at Symphony Center was very dark and faintly lit, reminiscent of the bebop oriented club scene of the 1950s and 1960s.  The emcee, David Bender from WBEZ radio came onto the stage wearing a very smart suit and introduced the artist to a packed audience of curious music fans. Finally, the Charles Lloyd Quintet stepped onto the stage to thunderous applause.

It is normally customary for a musician to begin playing his/her music upon reaching the concert stage, and then to banter with the audience after at least two numbers.Not Charles Lloyd.For at least five minutes, he gave us (as it were) a brief lecture on his thoughts about music, philosophy, and the meaning of the arts. I thought that I was sitting in on a Deepak Chopra lecture for while. But when Lloyd finished his “discourse” he performed some of the most challenging music played from that stage in many years. There was no intermission, and Charles Lloyd owned the night.

With bassist Bob Hurst emphasizing with Lloyd’s riffs, and Geri Allen adding her proverbial two cents on piano, the concert seemed like an intimate conversation between friends….and we, the audience, were allowed to listen in on it.Every now and then guitarist John Abercrombie would play some very bluesy chords that sounded more like Joe Pass than B.B. King. And laying down the law on drums, Eric Harland kept the musical conversation focused and tight.When the concert was over, the crowd (Yours Truly included) yelled and applauded for more, and Lloyd delivered an excellent encore.

The group still records impressive albums and performs on the concert stage in such places as diverse as Pennsylvania and Poland and Albany to Korea. And his innovative collaborations with such great artists as Brad Meldau, Larry Grenadier, and the late Billy Higgins have expanded both Lloyd’s growing discography and the adoration of his fans.

The Many Sounds of Jazz: Kelley Johnson

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Fridays were usually the day I went to the record store to check out the new jazz albums, and I normally went to the Borders on 95th and Western Avenue. My routine was simple….go to the café…..grab a cup of coffee…take the elevator upstairs to the music section and listen to the albums on the listening station before buying them. Then I would give away half my paycheck and walk out with a ton of CDs.

One particular Friday night, it seemed as if a twist of fate had happened and I became exposed to the Pacific Northwest’s best kept secret: jazz vocalist Kelley Johnson.

As I was fumbling through the stack of CDs, I came across this nice brownish-orange colored cover that caught my eye. On the front cover was a picture of a very petit and pretty young lady wearing a hat with flowers in it. When looked on the back of the album I saw that one of the tracks was a cover of a Joe Henderson tune, “Recorda Me.” This was a vocalese of that classic recording!

So, I pushed the button on the playing station to Track 4.  I was blown away. I think I shrieked out, “OH….MY…GOD!!!” because everyone turned at looked at me. But I didn’t care. I was listening to pure creative genius.

I bought that album, “Make Someone Happy,” and never looked back. I’ve been a Kelley Johnson fan ever since.

Kelley’s exceptional vocal quality is somewhat reminiscent of two great singers, Karen Carpenter and Anita O’Day, but Kelley has her own laid back and introspective sound.  It is very clear, articulate, and soulful. Take for instance, her live performance of Ornette Coleman’s “Turnaround” from her 2003 “Kelley Johnson Live at Birdland” recording. Here, Kelley took the seemingly dissonant musings of Coleman and fashioned it into a wonderful work of art. She deftly crafted the appropriate scatting techniques necessary to give Coleman’s recording her own bluesy signature. This is jazz singing at its absolute best.

Her well-structured, unique, and lyrical recordings are often backed by such great jazz luminaries as drummer Lewis Nash, trumpeter Brian Lynch (whose performances are an excellent accompaniment) to Kelley’s style of singing, and alto sax man Steve Wilson.

Her latest recoding “Music is the Magic” on the Sapphire label features one of the most beautiful and moving love ballads in the jazz canon, “Moon and Sand.” Backed by a stellar group of musicians, including jazz pianist Geoff Keezer, this album is very daring and adventuresome as Kelley successfully uses both singing and spoken word pieces to connect with her growing audience.
2

And this winter, music fans in both Central America and the Caribbean will be exposed to the genius of Kelley Johnson as she will perform there on behalf of the U.S. State Department.

I think the secret is out……Kelley Johnson is slated to become of the most important jazz vocalists of this generation.

On the Passing of Max Roach

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For the last few weeks, tributes have poured in from all over the jazz world about the contributions of the late Max Roach. He was truly one of the greatest drummers in jazz, but he was more than a mere musician. Max Roach was an activist who believed in the best of human creativity and in the rights of each person to determine their own destiny. He used his music and his creative genius in a liberating combination to express both his anger towards injustice, but his hope that one day humanity would learn to live in a just harmony.

I’ve often heard it said that “iron sharpens iron,” and that creative people surround themselves with those of like minds. Max Roach was the personification of this idea. Working with such giants as Charlie Mingus, Oscar Brown, Jr., Clifford Brown, and Abbey Lincoln, Max Roach was able to craft an unusual synthesis between political activism and great jazz.

The release of his 1960 album, “We insist” Max Roach’s Freedom Now Suite,” addressed the issues of racial and social injustice long before musicians began to take up those causes during the 1960s. It is a very haunting work, which at one point the vocalist Abbey Lincoln screams her lyrics as part of a collective spiritual venting. This act of loud poetic unleashing would influence other artists as John Lennon and Yoko Ono would later use this in their music. Oscar Brown, Jr. crafted most of the lyrics of “Freedom Now,” but the inventive genius behind the concept was Max Roach. And he paid a heavy price for it. He didn’t find work for years after that, but this didn’t deter his efforts towards fighting for justice.

Not even for a second.

Max Roach was very leery of major record labels and wealthy concert promoters that he did not believe were sincere in promoting both authentic jazz and authentic jazz musicians. He felt that lesser known artists, and even those who had achieved great celebrity, were being exploited for financial gain. There were certain places he would not appear to perform, much less even allow his records to be sold because he felt that the music was becoming more passé and less daring.

I think this is what led him to become a jazz educator. He later joined the music faculty at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, where students of this true American music could study with a master of this unique art form.

To be totally honest, Max Roach was educating us long before he entered the Ivy Towers of academe. He taught us the value of excellence, and how hard work and meaningful collaboration could yield great results. He taught us how to stand up for what was right, even though we may have to stand alone, and face the seeming rejection of our friends. And Max Roach taught us that the riches of the marketplace should never cancel out our personal integrity. In the end, he kept his honor about him. He never sold out.

But Max Roach didn’t just curse the darkness. He lit a candle to show his students and his fans the joy of what great music can be, and what American society can be if we are willing to give just a little of ourselves to make that dream come true.

Yes, we lost a great one this summer. But Max Roach left us a legacy and a heritage that will never be forgotten.

“Hey, Max….. Say hello to Ray Brown for me!”

The Many Sounds of Jazz, Volume #2: Andy Bey, Shirley Horn and the Sound of Elegance

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Until recently, Andy Bey’s only major recordings had been in the mid 1960s with his sisters (including the legendary Geraldine De Haas), and a 1974 album that was influenced by Eastern music, especially Ravi Shankar. For nearly twenty years, Andy Bey stayed in relative obscurity. In 1995, however, he released his ground breaking “Ballads, Blues, and Bey” on the Evidence label.  And since then, he has recorded other albums like 2001’s “Tuesdays in Chinatown” that featured bassist Ron Carter and drummer Victor Lewis.

Perhaps the high point in Bey’s forty year career came in 2004 with the release of his “American Song” on the Savoy label. Here, Bey recorded reinterpreted cover songs by such distinguished composers as Kurt Weil, Billy Strayhorn, and Leonard Bernstein. And to reward his efforts, Andy Bey received a Grammy nomination for “Best Jazz Vocalist.”

While working full time in the Washington DC area as an office worker, and moonlighting as a jazz chanteuse at night, Shirley Horn depicted the real meaning of elegant and picturesque jazz singing. She began performing live in the late 1970s, but did not recording until a decade later with Verve Records. In 1999, she won her first Grammy for “I Remember Miles,” her tribute to Miles Davis. Since then, she recorded well-designed and craftily produced albums for Verve including, “You Wont Forget Me,” “You’re My Thrill,” and 2003’s “May the Music Never End. While Shirley Horn’s recorded vocal accomplishments were truly impressive, I want to speak to her abilities as the consummate live performer.

In the Spring of 2002, Shirley Horn was featured in concert at Chicago’s Symphony Center on a bill with famed pianist and jazz talk show host Marian McPartland. It was on a Friday and it was a sold out show. One of the great thrills for me was to be seated one row in back of WGN News Anchor Micah Mattere. Of course, Marian put on a great show, although I was a wee bit disappointed that she did not play her “Piano Jazz” theme song, “Kaleidoscope.”  But when Shirley Horn came to the stage, the tone of the concert took on a beautiful, yet serious tone.Ms. Horne came onto the stage in a wheelchair. She had just had part of her foot amputated because of complications from diabetes. Because of this, she was unable to play her piano.

Still, she was in the groove.  She sat in that wheelchair, her fingers popping as part of her own personal percussion, and literally sang her heart out. When she sang the title track from her 1992 album, “Here’s to Life,” it’s safe to say that she stole the show even further. Shirley Horn died on October 20, 2005, leaving an impressive discography and millions of adoring fans worldwide.

Both the music of Andy Bey and Shirley Horn are examples of the beauty of jazz singing and why the simple excellence of telling a story well. But they are also illustrations of the patience, hard work, and austere dignity that often accompanies late celebrity.

The Many Sounds of Jazz, Volume #1: Lambert, Hendricks and Ross

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By the late 1950s and early 1960s, jazz was in the middle of a major struggle to define itself. Whether it was the controversy over the free jazz movement and the avant garde or artists grappling with the best way to appeal to pop and rock music fans, jazz found itself in a state of flux. However, it was a very exciting period because of the major innovations that musicians and singers bought into the recording studio and the concert stage. One of those groups was the vocalese trio, Lambert, Hendricks and Ross.

Each of these artists, Americans David Lambert and Jon Hendricks, and British singer Annie Ross combined a sound that was unique and innovative to jazz singing. By taking already musical compositions and adding catching lyrics, vocalese proved itself to be a novel originality. This trio was perhaps its most articulate representatives. The opening tune on their 1959 album, "Everybody's Boppin'" was an extrapolation of Charlie Barnet's "Charleston Alley." The most exceptional characteristic of this number is the instrumental quality of Annie Ross' voice as she fashions it into a trumpet playing in the upper register.

It is not shrill or shrieking, but it is a significant complement to the musings of Hendricks and Lambert's. The most catchy, yet comical, tracks on this album are "Twisted" and "Gimme That Wine." The first song has become Annie Ross' signature song based upon a Wendall Gray sax solo. Its illusions to Jungian psychotherapy and Freudian psychoanalysis are not only intelligent, but tell a great story. "Gimme That Wine," sung by Jon Hendricks is perhaps one of my favorite tunes in all of vocal jazz.

While some could interpret this as an ode to alcoholism, I interpret it as the anthem of the amateur sommelier. I personally like the part of the number where Hendricks recounts being violently robbed by a "bandit" and cooperating with the mugging for his personal safety, but when the criminal attempted to steal Jon's wine bottle, he put up a verbal struggle. Horace Silver's "Home Cookin'" is also fare for the trio and harkens back to authentic Sunday soul food dinners, before the advent of fancy weekend brunches. When I first heard Kurt Elling, a Hendricks protégé, sing this number in 2001, I thought he wrote it! Artists and fans who have an affinity for the homespun will definitely appreciate this tune.

And finally, George Gershwin's "Summertime" is the highlight of this album. This song was originally performed in the play "Porgy and Bess," but was recorded by Miles Davis for his 1955 "Round About Midnight" album. Lambert, Hendricks and Ross recorded an excellent vocalese of the Davis recording with Jon singing the original Gershwin lyrics. 2 Annie Ross left the group in 1962 and was replaced by Yolande Bavan. The group broke up in 1964. David Lambert died from injuries in a car accident in 1966, and Jon Hendricks still records and performs with vocalists like Kurt Elling, Shelia Jordan, and Mark Murphy.

While their career was short lived, and their discography small, Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross were clearly influential on such jazz vocal groups as Take 6 and The Manhattan Transfer. There is no doubt that Lambert, Hendricks and Ross are stars in the very firmament of jazz.

Strange Fruit: The Story Behind an American Tragedy

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The scene of the crime occurred on the night of August 7, 1930 in Marion, Indiana. Thomas Shipp, Abram Smith, and a 17 year-old named James Cameron had been arrested on the charge of the murder of Claude Deeter and the sexual assault of his date, Mary Ball.

They were being held in the Grant County Jail. Of the three, James Cameron was the innocent suspect. He had received a ride from Shipp and Smith earlier that day and was about to become an accomplice to robbing the couple. Deeter recognized Cameron, the two were friends and Cameron put down the gun and walked away from the scene telling Shipp and Smith that he did not wish to participate in this crime. As Cameron was leaving the scene, he heard a scuffle, shouting, and then a bone chilling gun shot.

He knew there was going to be trouble. And I can imagine while he was sitting in that cell, he regretted every second for accepting that lift fro his friends. As night fell, Cameron heard the noise of an angry mob outside the jail. The noise became louder and more hate-filled as the minutes went on. They were demanding the jailer that the prisoners be released to them and that they, not the system of American jurisprudence, knew "what to do with them." The windows of the jail were broken. The crowd had now worked itself into a murderous frenzy.

The lynch mob had gotten into the jail and began beating the suspects without pity. They began to torture Shipp and Smith, and continued to work Cameron over. The condemned men were brought out to a tree on the grounds of the county courthouse. Shipp and Smith were hanged from its limbs. They were dead. Seeing this, Cameron started to pray, "Dear Lord, please forgive me of my sins!" And suddenly, a voice pierced the angry darkness, "Do this man no harm. He had nothing to do with it." It was as if a miracle had occurred. The mob spared Cameron's life.

The dead and battered silhouettes of Ship and Smith dangled from the tree in a grotesque spectacle as the crowd celebrated with murderous glee. A photographer arrived on the scene and snapped one of the most horrifying pictures in American history. A pregnant woman was seen under the tree, seemingly happy with the deed. Another man was captured smoking a cigar, in apparent celebration. And a short, middle aged man with a short moustache, his eyes filled with glaring hatred, pointed with pride to the corpses of Abram Smith and Thomas Shipp. Large numbers of men and women congratulated each other as they believed that justice for Mary Ball and Claude Deeter had been done.

James Cameron was convicted of participation in the attempted robbery, and was sentenced to five years in prison. He was the only known survivor of a lynching in American history. After his release, he went to school, eventually earning a doctorate and published a book, "A Time of Terror" that documented his horrific ordeal.

Meanwhile, the graphic photograph was displayed on postcards, newspapers, and magazines all over the country. One morning, it caught the attention of a New York schoolteacher, Abel Meeropol (whose pen name was Lewis Allan) who was so startled by the gristly picture that he wrote a poem about it and called it, "Strange Fruit." The one miscalculation that Meeropol made was that the picture was taken from a lynching in the Midwest. But the first lines of the poem, "Southern trees bear a strange fruit" referred to the fact that many such lynchings had occurred in the American south, and some were photographed. A vast majority of the victims were African-Americans, but some of them, like businessman Leo Frank, were white.

Their causes of death were often recorded as "Murder at the hands of parties unknown." Just the same, Meeropol thought of another idea to give the disturbing poem more exposure. He set it to music, and approached a 24 year old jazz singer named Billie Holiday to sing the lyrics. Billie was a regular singer at a New York jazz club/political meeting place called "Café Society." At first, Billie refused. But later she sang the song at the end of her performances and later recorded it for the E.B. Marks Publishing Company in 1940.

Many radio stations like BBC Radio and some in the U.S. refused to play the song. Some called it controversial, others graphic and depressing. But the tune made Billie Holiday a star as she was one of the first American singers to record a popular protest song.

Other popular artists would later follow Billie's path in making political protest music: Bob Dylan, Bono, Public Enemy, Johnny Paycheck, and Sinead O'Connor. One thing remains certain: "Strange Fruit" started it all. It was a tone poem about a dark chapter in the history of our nation, and it also underscored the freedom and risk taking that defines American democracy.

On Ken Burns and Dexter Gordon

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Now…..let me make something clear. I like Ken Burns. His Civil War series was phenomenal, as was his "Baseball" documentary. And to be honest, I can't wait to see "The War" this fall. But in his documentary on America's original music, he dropped the ball. Big time! A few years ago, Ken Burns released a wonderful documentary on PBS about the history of jazz. Many of us tuned in nightly, and some of us were terribly disappointed at what we saw. Granted, Burns got the chronology correct, and he highlighted many of the stories, myths, and major movements within the music. But……..when he got to the early 1970s, he blew it totally. He had declared that during this decade jazz had died. Ken Burns couldn't have been more wrong.

One scene showed an empty nightclub, lit with candles and Duke Ellington's "In a Sentimental Mood" playing softly in the background. The series narrator, Keith David, gave somewhat of a dread eulogy of this music by discussing the closure of many of the great jazz clubs and also mentioned how the deaths of Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington left jazz without any type of sustaining direction. It was so moving that if the casual listener did not know any better, they would break out the Kleenex and start to sob like two year olds. Then, the scene switched. Now the setting was nighttime Manhattan and the strains of Dexter Gordon's "Let's Get Down" had supposedly lifted the spirits from what had been that of discouragement during the previous scene. The narrator went on to document the story of Gordon's triumphal return from Europe to the United States after a nearly fourteen year absence, and his sold out performances at New York's Village Vanguard.

This performance, coupled with the release of Gordon's the double album; "Homecoming" (according to Ken Burns) marked the long awaited resurrection of jazz. Uh……..did I miss something? Burns did not discuss any of the artists who were recording traditional jazz, and with the sole exception of Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew," nothing was said about the great fusion artists. In Ken's calculus, none of those artists ever existed. Instead, Gordon's album played Elijah to jazz's Widow's son. And in the 2 process Ken Burns (as well other jazz purists) missed the point: Dexter Gordon's 1977 live album is simply one heckuva great recording. "Homecoming: Live at the Village Vanguard" is one of those albums that if I were to end up on a desert island, I would have that CD in my collection. It was recorded in a live club setting with very little editing and no filler.

Most of the tunes are original compositions by trumpeter Woody Shaw. And not a single song is under ten minutes. Take for example, "Little Red's Fantasy." This is great tenor sax music the way it is supposed to be played. With Shaw accompanying Gordon in the introduction, it is one of the most complex and beautiful pieces on the album. While the clear leader of the group, Gordon allows each of the musicians to improvise off of the melody. While a cover of this tune is long overdue, nothing can top the original.

Another great track is his cover of Theolonius Monk and Cootie Williams' "Round Midnight." This is perhaps one of the better interpretations of the work, and it leads me to believe that this was the reason Gordon was asked to play the role of the fictional Dale Turner in the 1986 movie, "Round Midnight." And finally, "Fried Bananas" is an example of bebop at its absolute best. It is full of energy, spontaneity, and imagination.

You see…….Dexter Gordon's classic recording did not aspire to raise the so-called dead. Furthermore, it did not seek to play the role of a "turning point" to fit someone's intellectual fancy. It is what it was: great American music.

I Remember Ray Brown

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I had just spent that entire Friday at the Taste of Chicago and milling about downtown; it was a hot July day. The jazz station, WDCB in Glen Ellyn, repeatedly advertised Ray Brown's upcoming gig at Joe Segal's Jazz Showcase, it was a rather big event. And I was planning on going, but since I had been out all that day-----and my laundry was stacking up----I figured I could sit this one out. Either, I could go the next day, Saturday, or I could wait until he came back to town. So, I was drying my final load at the Blue Kangaroo Laundromat over near Vermont and Division and all of sudden I felt a since of foreboding, and it wasn't the guilt from eating that BBQ turkey leg earlier that day. But…I played it off and was set to follow my game plan for the evening.

I was going to go home, put away my clean laundry, have a night cap, and vegge out on the couch and watch TV. I was tired. But then that sense of dread came at me with a vengeance. I knew something wasn't right, and this time I was more attentive. This time, the feeling had a voice. It had something to do with Ray Brown. The voice said, "Go to the Showcase…..there's still time to catch the Rock Island train to LaSalle Street." Now this time, I chuckled because I have never claimed to be clairvoyant. So I followed my inner gut and said, "Why not?" I threw my laundry in the back seat of my van, went to my apartment to get one of my Ray Brown CDs, and jumped on the Metra train to LaSalle Street. It was almost 9pm. I got to the door and paid my cover charge and sat down. And there he was. Ray Brown: one of the most important figures of the bebop and post-bop era. Ray Brown played bass with just about everyone from Charlie Parker to Oscar Peterson to Stanley Turrentine.

There had always been this running joke among hip cats that the most famous words in jazz were, "And on bass, Ray Brown." And there he was about 3 feet from me enjoying a cocktail before he went on stage. Now, I had never been star struck in my life, but I was awestruck. I muttered something how much his music meant to me and something stuttered about autographs. He flashed that gold tooth smile and said he would sign them at intermission. During the set, he was accompanied by drummer Karriem Riggins and pianist Geof Keezer. They put on one heckuva good show. When the trio broke into Duke Ellington's "Caravan," Ray broke out the bow to play his bass in a very haunting interpretation of that work.

My sense of dread had passed……this I thought, was jazz at its absolute best. Ray signed my CDs, gave me a firm handshake and a smile…and I skipped to the LaSalle Street Station like a school boy who had won a gold star. 2 On the following Tuesday, I had to drive to the office to take care of some matters before mid-Summer grades were due and was in my van listening to Barry Winograd's morning jazz show. And then, I was headed home to South Fulton for the Fourth of July.

When one of the numbers ended, Barry said, "And on bass was the late Ray Brown." My heart jumped. I thought I had misunderstood what I heard. As soon as I got to the office, I called the station and asked to speak to Barry. I said, "Barry……did you just say 'the late Ray Brown'?" He said,"Yep….the found him in his hotel room in Indianapolis last night. He had a heart attack."

I almost dropped the phone.

I checked the CNN website and it was all over the front of the entertainment section. And as I drove home towards Tennessee, public radio stations all over Illinois and coming into Kentucky played his music. Both DJs and the fans who called into their shows, talked about how Ray Brown was a pillar of the jazz community and how shocked they were that he had passed away. It was a dark day for the music that we all came to love. But in that sad moment came a feeling of gratitude. I had gotten over my fatigue and busy-ness, followed my inner voice, and was blessed to attend one of the last performances of a true musical icon.

On Orbert Davis and Jazz Education

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I'm fully convinced, now more than ever, that jazz is true American music and expresses the best of human creativity in music. Now….before you change the channel, NO…..I'm not going into that passé spiel about "Jazz as a Metaphor of American Democracy." Rather, jazz can teach us a lot about the creative mind and how this music can elevate our consciousness to heights that cannot be remotely fathomed. Moreover, some artists have a particular knack for bringing this music to places and people, who for whatever reason have ignored it or view it as esoteric psychobabble.

Obert Davis has been a significant force in bringing jazz to "the masses" by making it thoughtful, yet entertaining; soulful, yet existential; boisterous, yet beautiful. He has done so both as a major jazz educator, and performer par excellence. Based out of Chicago, Orbert Davis has recorded three stellar albums from his own label, "Three-Sixteen Records", often co-produced with his best friend, Mark Ingram. His 2001 release, "Priority" is a perfect example of Davis' range, style, versatility, and inventive technique.

On this album, he teams with such great organic musicians as: Ryan Cohen on piano; Tracy Kirk on trombone; James Cammack on bass (who usually plays with Ahmad Jamal and Idris Muhammad); and the great tenor saxophonist Ari Brown. In addition, a couple of vocal numbers round out the work: one a blues number, "Double Blues" and the other a touching love ballad, "Midnight in Bahia," performed by Chicago based vocalists Bobbye Wilson and Kurt Elling. Four important tracks on this recording are critical to understanding Davis' imaginative appeal to diverse audiences:

The title track, "Priority" is a very busy and acrobatic work, but it has a touch of ingenious subtlety that often reminds us of great trumpeters like Louis Armstrong, Lee Morgan, Clifford Brown, and Wynton Marsalis. With Ari Brown accompanying the melody, this tune automatically grabs the attention of the listener and alerts the fan that they are about to hear an awesome performance in the tracks to come.

"Block Party" is perhaps the most recognizable tune on this album and can be heard in numerous commercials, informational pieces, and the introduction to jazz broadcasts on radio stations. It is indeed soulful and reflects Davis' own roots living on the South Side of Chicago. And as a former South Sider, I can tell you that this tune does bring back pleasant memories of Saturday cookouts, after church family gatherings on Sundays, or Friday night after work sets at the local juke joint.

"Miles Ahead" is a cover of Miles Davis' classic homage. Now…on the surface, some listeners may get the impression that this tune is either "filler" or another cover of a familiar Miles tune. Either characterization would be inaccurate. Granted, this tune sounds amazingly similar to the classic recording, but the flexibility that Orbert gives the musicians to improvise gives this cover its own unique signature.

And the Bill Withers classic, "Aint no Sunshine" appeals to fans of easy listening, rhythm and blues, soul, and 1970s A.M. music. Here, the listener can recall Withers' tortured love lament through the brass horn of Orbert Davis. The "Priority" album like Davis' other recordings, "My Funny Valentine" and "Blue Notes," is just a sample of Davis' appeal to vast audiences. But Davis can be seen in public schools throughout the Chicagoland area and the nation to bring back quality music into American classrooms who would not otherwise be exposed to it.

And listeners of all ages would be drawn to his Chicago Jazz Philharmonic Orchestra where new and original pieces are often performed. I think its safe to say that Orbert Davis is not only a musical genius, but a true original whose imaginative contributions continue to give definition, meaning, and purpose to contemporary jazz.

An Evening With Ornette Coleman

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Ornette Coleman chanced the very structure of jazz with the release of his 1960 album, "Free Jazz: A Collective Improvisation." It was ground-breaking in its structure, execution, and stellar line up. This album featured an innovative double quartet that included Coleman on alto saxophone; Don Jerry and Freddie Hubbard on trumpet; Scott LaFaro and Charlie Haden on contra bass; Eric Dolphy accompanying Coleman on bass clarinet; and Ed Blackwell and Billy Higgins on drums. It was an improvisational piece that allowed each of the artists to express themselves without a specific score. Jazz has always featured improvisation as part of its overall make up, but now Coleman pushed the envelope to "free" jazz from what he considered to be repressive restraints.

Almost immediately, jazz purists rejected the work. Articles written in the jazz press slammed the work as out of touch and overly dissonant. However some fans, albeit a small minority, embraced the album as an essential part of the jazz canon. It became the sound track of those who followed a bohemian lifestyle and favored alternative movements within the arts. The very album cover borrowed from a work by the eccentric artist Jackson Pollock, itself reflected that sense of creative risk taking.

When I started listening to jazz in the 1980s, my preferences were artists like the fusion group Spyro Gyra, and other soul influenced musicians like David Sanborn, George Howard, and Al DiMeola. However, Bobby Bryan's "Easy Street" broadcasts on WKMS introduced me to more mainstream jazz artists; and I tuned in nightly to listen to those historic recordings.

It was around the early 1990s when I became exposed to Coleman's music and to be honest, I was not impressed. His music seemed too frenetic, disorganized, and loud. To me, it was not jazz at all... It was racket pure and simple. When his music came on any radio station, I cut it off, or changed the channel. To me, Ornette Colman's style of jazz was a little too radical for my pretentious and conservative jazz tastes.

But when I got into my early 30s and more flexible in the variety of jazz I would buy, that I started to give Ornette Coleman's music a chance. And when I heard he was coming to Chicago's Orchestra Hall to give a concert I jumped at the chance to go hear him.

That evening was just as frantic and acrobatic as Coleman's music.

It was on a Friday night in early October 2003.

I had just finished grading papers at the office and was on my way to a Fall Fashion shoot for the Chicago based "Trumpet Newsmagazine." So I figured I would just stand there in my cardigan sweater and slacks take a few pictures and go on to the concert by 8pm, right?

Wrong!

The photographer had not set up the camera yet, and some of the other models had not arrived. It was now 6:30.

By 7:00pm... Everything was set up! But the photographer wanted to do multiple frames. Ok... He finished by 7:15pm, which gave me about 45 minutes to head down the Dan Ryan to the Lake Shore Drive exit, turn left on Balbo, make a right onto Michigan Avenue... to find a parking space... Buy my ticket... And sit down to hear Ornette Coleman.

I think I broke every single speeding law since the automobile was invented.

So with my heart racing, I get to the ticket office... And this lady (who was a dead ringer for Jennifer Hudson) was at the front of the ticket line debating with the ticket agent about the cost of the ticket and seating.

So I'm getting kind of upset right about now... It's three minutes before the show starts.

I finally get my ticket... And was seated just as Coleman has started to pay the first number of the night.

It is hard to describe it. The music was noisy, nervous, loud, and dissonant, but each of us in the auditorium held on to every single note as if our lives depended on it. This went on for almost two hours non-stop without the benefit of an intermission.

When the concert was over, Ornette Coleman got the longest standing ovation of any performer I have seen in years.

But the evening wasn't over.

As I was headed back to the parking lot, I saw one of my jazz buddies that we nicknamed "Pops." And Pops told me about an after party held at the loft of the drummer Kahil El-Zabbar's loft over in River North. He said that there was a strong possibility that Ornette Coleman would show up and jam with a small quintet.

I think I broke a few more speeding laws getting there.

Coleman didn't play that party, the great trumpeter Malachi Thompson did. But Coleman did show up to receive a resolution passed by the Illinois State Senate commending him for over 40 years of service to the arts. It was presented by State Senator Donne Trotter.

That evening was one of the most exhilarating nights of my life but the very hectic pace of it was a mirror image of the artistry of Ornette Coleman.

Martinez Rogers: Project II Straight Ahead Bumpin'

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I'm of the opinion that some of the best music that can ever be heard is recorded by obscure and unknown artists. They can be found in clubs, bars, coffeehouses and other venues. In their creativity and virtuosity, they can attract smaller audiences and faithful followings on par with their famous celebrity counterparts. Their talents have been nurtured through many years of self study, struggle, and discipline. And when it comes to actual performance time, they are consummate professionals. Such is the musical genius of Martinez Rogers.

His "Project II: Straight Ahead Bumpin" project was recorded over a period of several weeks using his own equipment in a make-shift studio in his own Las Vegas apartment. When Martinez is not handling baggage at the city's airport, he can be seen working on new pieces at home and as an accompanist with the jazz fusion group Platinum in clubs from Vegas to Reno. His latest project, recorded in 2002, is an expression of his virtuosity and an exploration into a creative mind. Here, Martinez's work is influenced by Rhythm and Blues, Jazz, and classic rock. No genre of music is foreign to this artist. Much of his work includes many styles ranging from Molly Hatchet, Slave, and even Big Daddy Kane.

Like many of his jazz fusion idols, Martinez has constructed musical forms that push the envelope in many exciting ways. His funk infused "Shuff'ln Along" is a tribute to such diverse artists as Al DiMiola, Pat Metheny, and Chet Atkins. Track 3, "TrippinOptic Metalhead" echoes with the musings of Eric Clapton and the German techno pop group Kraftwerk. And his most intricate piece, "From Cool to Hot," is perhaps influenced with his own unique view of urban life in the middle of a desert. Martinez has always taken risks with interpreting great vocalists from Cameo's Larry Blackman to David Bowie, to The Time's Morris Day. That's really quite an impressive range, indeed. In this recording, Martinez has recorded three great vocals each harkening to a party atmosphere.

On "Slave to the Groove," his lyrics resonate with remembrances of the club scene of the 1980s. This was long before hip hop became the dominant form of music in clubs, and great dance music was in vogue. Martinez recalls those days when both music and musicians wrote the soundtrack of a good evening out on the town. "Keep It in Pocket" follows the same style. And it is here that the chorus echoes with the influences of Earth, Wind, and Fire and the Ohio Players. The guitar ruffs, base line, and drum work all combine to tell a similar story to "Slave to the Groove." And in "Get Up and Do Like You Say You're Gonna Do" is reminiscent of the challenging lyrics of George Clinton, Bootsy Collins, and the early recordings of George Duke.

Martinez is also no stranger to a good ballad. Perhaps the most moving piece is his instrumental work, "So Soo! Deep." It is mostly guitar work. This tune is heavily influenced by artists like Chet Atkins and Larry Carlton, but Martinez throws in his own rock and soul influences to give the work its own unique identity. So far, he has not been picked up by any of the major labels. But audiences in urban Nevada are often seen at many of the clubs and venues dancing to his groove. His work is honest, sincere, and innovative. You know….one day….this guy is going to get his lucky break.

Kurt Elling's "Nightmoves"

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Kurt Elling's latest album, "Nightmoves," is his first offering on the Concord Records label, having recorded six Grammy nominated albums for Blue Note since 1995. This is a concept album that tells the story of one guy's journey and reflections from evening until sunrise the next day. Like Donald Fagen's "Kamikiriad" album over a decade ago, Kurt's lyrics tell a story in a way that is catchy, engaging and smart. With such great luminaries as Bob Mintzer, Christian McBride joining with Kurt's collaborators Laurence Hobgood and Rob Amster, this is one of Kurt's best recordings to date. The title track is a cover of a tune recorded by Michael Franks, and it is a great introduction to this work. It is not at all packaged or formulaic. Kurt simply takes Dr. Franks' lyrics and interprets it in his own unique way. Kurt's cover of Betty Carter's "Tight" follows the same pattern, but you can hear some echoes of her articulation at the beginning. This lets the listener know that Kurt obviously appreciates Betty Carter as an artist and a lyricist. But is his remake of The Guess Who's "She's Come Undone" which we see a great interpretation of a pop tune that has been recaptured in the lingua franca of jazz. Now I heard him do the same thing with The Steve Miller Band's "The Joker" in a live performance a few years ago. Kurt's "Undun" has that same chemistry.

With "Nightmoves," Kurt continues to use vocalese quite well. With vocalese, a singer/songwriter writes lyrics to already composed tunes in a way that allows the notes and chords to have a voice. However, he is not the first to utilize this unique art form. From Eddie Jefferson, Jon Hendricks, and King Pleasure in the 1950s to Mark Murphy in the 1970s, Kurt is the latest singer to employ the use of this novel interpretation. And on this album, he has elevated vocalese to an art form. Take for instance, his cover of "Body and Soul." This tune was best popularized by the tenor saxophonist Dexter Gordon, and Kurt wrote a vocalese of this song many, many years ago. But Kurt revised his own work by crafting it as "A New Body and Soul." While this is certainly the longest tune on this recording, it is certainly one of Kurt's most creative.

The other is his remake of the Duke Ellington composition, "I Like the Sunrise." Now what Kurt does on this particular work is absolutely revolutionary. Towards the middle of the song, Kurt departs from the script and sings a vocalese t