I know the internet doesn't care much for excuses, so instead of rambling about why it's been a month or two since my last post, I'll give a quick double post.
Rochester's Jazz Festival recently came and went, bringing people to the streets, and cars to the 20 dollar parking. Most of the acts were really bad, and could hardly be called jazz (here's looking at you Dweezil Zappa), but the atmosphere was exciting and fresh. There was a jazz trio playing in Java's downtown that had the subversive fire that makes Jazz great. As I always say: Jazz is the Rock and Roll of the music world. In the '40s, '50s and '60s jazz was dangerous and scary to the safe white mainstream. It was music that broke the rules. It was wild, it was drug fueled, and it was a lively, rebellious counter culture. The beat writers weren't trying to sound like Buddy Holly after all (not that I don't love Buddy Holly), they were listening to Miles Davis. Sitting in there and listening to the jazz music in the dank, humid coffee shop made me want to write subversive literature. It ignited a passion for Jazz that has been burning wildly since.
So I've spent the last several weeks listening to hardly anything but jazz. Two clear favorites emerged for me: the wild free Jazz of Ornette Coleman that exploded onto the scene in the late 50's and music of Charles Mingus.
"Ah Um" has always been one of my favorite records, but I decided to start digging into Mingus' library a bit more. I came upon the 1963 album "The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady" and it instantly blew my mind. This is a land mark of jazz, and of music in general. It is a bold record that shows Mingus' chops as a composer and band leader. The album runs just under 40 minutes and is essentially one long piece divided into 4 tracks. Mingus leads an 11 piece band through his composition and himself plays double bass and at times piano. His tendency as a perfectionist evidently led to heavy use of over dubbing to get everything just right. This obviously sets itself from a lot of other jazz, which often relies on the raw energy of improvisation and live performance. That energy of performance isn't lost in the theater though, thanks to the sharp production but especially to the passion felt in the musicians through their instruments, and of course the brilliance of the piece and Mingus' devotion to it.
The album ebbs and flows through idea's and moods, progressing the way a symphony or a piece of theater would. No wonder that it was partially written as a ballet. The music needs nothing else though. It feels like more than an album. It feels like you are being taken on a journey. It feels like theater, entering through your ears and resonating in every bone. The music is pure life.
It is one of the best albums I have ever heard, and I have nothing else to say about it. When I listened to it, it was combined with "Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus" another great album from later that year. This is a reminder of the fire of rebellion that burns in great jazz music. I think that jazz at its best is the peak of music and even art. It requires technical mastery, and mastery of craft, but also it eschews rules and structure, constantly forging new idea's and paths, and constantly challenging accepted norms and standards. Jazz has become a heady, studied game for white people, and has lost most of its rebellious spirit. Albums like this remind me what Jazz once was, and what it still can mean. This music comes straight out of the cosmos, enters my body and resides in my brain. This album is a master work.
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