Billy Taylor's History of Jazz

Although not as well known as the Ken Burns documentary series, I prefer this one featuring jazz pianist Billy Taylor. The Ken Burns Jazz series suffers from its reliance on Wynton Marsalis and the poor treatment given to jazz fusion and avant-garde music. 

La vocation de l’élite

"Comment expliquer que nous en soyons arrivés à une telle division sociale que notre élite semble être un organisme étranger, superposé au reste de la nation et vivant par rapport au peuple dans un état équivoque de parasitisme?"

Tragically, Jean Price-Mars's La vocation de l’élite remains relevant to the Haiti of a century later. After losing her sovereignty again during the post-2004 years, Price-Mars's call for the elite to fulfill their obligation to the nation is strikingly prescient. Moreover, Price-Mars, a century ago, was calling attention to the contradictions of the Haitian Revolution, the very contradictions of Toussaint Louverture and successive governments in Haiti that scholars have established their reputations by repeating ad nauseum in the century after La vocation de l’élite. While some chapters are less immediately pertinent to the problems of Haiti today, the pressing problem of social cohesion and resolving the distance between the masses and the elites remain intractable as the country finds itself in the mire of another crisis.

What is most intriguing about the text is the question of leadership. Price-Mars, who inherited the Haitian intellectual traditions of the 19th century through Firmin, Janvier, Hannibal Price, and Delorme, questioned the social utility of an elite which has not accomplished anything for the masses. While Price-Mars sees the masses as incapable of leading themselves out of their morass of ignorance, misery, and superstition (perhaps because, as Gustave Le Bon argued, the crowd is fundamentally irrational), cooperation between elite and mass is necessary for any future progress. Indeed, according to Price-Mars, such a collaboration made Haiti possible in the first place.  Nonetheless, the elite, the classe dirigeante, who descend from the colonial affranchis and military generals of the Revolution, should have represented and commanded Haiti in such a manner that led to the alleviation of the conditions for the mass. Perhaps due to the inheritance of elitist forms of Haitian liberalism of the previous century, Price-Mars appears to have no problem with an enlightened subset of the population ruling in the interests of the masses, something Delorme would have likely agreed with.

However, democracy was the goal to Price-Mars. A democracy in which everyone can reach their maximum potential, where the City would be one where Reason has overthrown the brutal injustices of society. These republican ideals, however, were a farce in a Haiti where the masses were illiterate, excluded, exploited, and the descendants of the the enslaved masses of Saint-Domingue wallow in an unjust social order. The elite, to Price-Mars, again echoing Delorme, should demonstrate the intellectual, practical, educational, industrial, or agricultural skills that act in the interest of their nation, which would justify their existence in Price-Mars's ideal City. Instead, the elite have become a parasitical entity which  exploits the peasantry through the impôt on coffee, the demwatye system, and exploiting their credulity to profit from the state. These are the characteristics of an elite unfit to rule, who will not bridge the gap they have created between themselves and the masses.

Due to the failure of Haitians of the upper-class to collaborate with the ongoing caco revolts of the 1910s against the US Occupation, one can see how La vocation de l’élite must have stirred debate among the audiences who first heard Price-Mars's lectures. Since the ongoing US Occupation caused Haitians to search inward for causes and solutions to the predicament of the first Black Republic's loss of sovereignty, and Price-Mars's own political influences from Haitian and French predecessors, it's no surprise that the author assumed the masses must be tutored by the elite. Instead of, say, pursuing a Marxist route where the salvation of Haiti lay in the rural and urban workers, which may have been a little absurd in a society where the majority were peasants, Price-Mars envisioned a reformed elite guiding the masses onward into the 20th century. One can see the seeds of indigenisme, too, as folklore and cultural nationalism could become a useful tool in bringing together the all social classes in Haitian society.

But what of leadership after La vocation de l’élite? We know the dark routes of noirist intellectuals, who borrowed from Price-Mars to reject in its entirety Western liberal democracy as unfit for Haiti. A topic of interest I would like to continue would be to explore the ways in which leadership in Haiti for radicals of the noirist or Marxist persuasions were shaped by or responded to Price-Mars. For instance, Marxist notions of a vanguard among the Haitian Left, to what extent were Etienne Charlier, Roumain, Alexis, and Lamaute still trapped in the perspective of Price-Mars? How have noirist and Marxist intellectuals used Price-Mars's elucidation for social relations? It certainly seems like everyone is heavily indebted to the 1919 text. In spite of its class politics, it's one of the most searing critiques of the elite, yet it hopes to rely on that same social group for the salvation of Haiti. One wonders what this means for Haiti of today, as, undoubtedly, the voices of the masses are heard everywhere. Moreover, indigenisme has changed Haiti profoundly, but the vast chasm that separates the elite and mass has not changed.

Singin' The Blues

A gem of 1920s jazz, Bix Beiderbecke and Eddie Lang sound timeless here as Beiderbecke takes a lyrical solo that sounds more like 1930s big band than 1927. The jazz world was deprived of a great talent when Beiderbecke passed away. 

A Life in Ragtime: A Biography of James Reese Europe

Badger's biography of James Reese Europe is a fascinating read for all curious about the early history of jazz in New York City. It also encompasses black Americans in World War I and black musical theater and performance in the first two decades of 20th century New York City. After reading the biography, it becomes clear how Europe was a key figure in the early development of jazz as it transitioned from ragtime. His leadership skills and desire to elevate the status of black musicians led to the formation of the Clef Club, a central booking agency and labor union for black musicians which led to more opportunities for African American musicians in the 1910s. 

The Clef Club and Tempo Club orchestras and bands also were a fertile crossroads for various currents in black popular music of the era, combining those with musical theater experience, vaudeville circuit pasts, ragtime and dance musicians across the New York area. Europe's ability to arrange for large orchestras also earns him the distinction of being the first leader of a proto-big band, even if one takes issue with the use of the term jazz to describe Europe's music before the Harlem Hellfighters. Performing compositions by black songwriters, including Ford Dabney, William Tyers, Will Marion Cook and Europe himself, also showed the degree to which Europe promoted black composers as well as performers, subverting the stereotype that blacks couldn't write music.

In terms of the transition from ragtime to jazz, Europe's band played a pivotal role in the rise of the fox-trot and jazz dance. His partnership with Vernon and Irene Castle led to the creation of the fox-trot by adapting Handy's "Memphis Blues" to a slow dance. This, in turn, shows the central importance of blues to early jazz, something Europe incorporated into his music when accompanying the Castles. Although definitely not the first musician to incorporate blue notes and structures into his band, Europe was one of the early bandleaders in New York to incorporate brass and woodwinds into what was previously strings-dominated orchestras (harp-guitar, mandolin, banjos, etc.).

Their syncopated approach with the addition of slurred notes, blues elements, and prominent drums (Buddy Gilmore, in particular) must have shocked and enthralled audiences. These sounds he carried with him to France, where he led the 15th Infantry Regiment Band to mesmerized audiences, impressing both French, European, and US listeners. The addition of Puerto Rican musicians for this band also led to some of the earliest Latino jazz musicians, although "Latin" music was long part of the repertoire of various bands Europe led (tango and "Latin" pieces by Tyers and others). While the distinction between jazz and ragtime wasn't clear to all listeners, it was clear Europe's music was something new to a variety of audiences. He was undoubtedly one of the first international proponents of what became "jazz," performing "Memphis Blues" in Europe along with military band music.

Europe's belief in the uplift of the "race" also deserves mention. Badger's biography illustrates, through the testimony of those who knew Europe and published interviews with the bandleader, how he saw his own music and efforts for black musicians as part of the elevation of African Americans. Instead of following his younger sister, Mary, who became a respected concert pianist in Washington, D.C., Europe endeavored to avoid the binary of "high" and low" while performing pieces reflecting spirituals, ragtime, blues, proto-jazz, and classical music. Europe's eclecticism reflected the various influences upon his own development as a musician, from marches he heard in DC to the ragtime and musicals he performed with during his first decade in New York. 

Just as future generations of jazz musicians struggled to escape the limitations placed upon the genre as simple entertainment or low "popular" music, Europe's ambitions for a National Negro Orchestra which would play "Negro" music illustrates his belief in the importance of developing a black musical aesthetic that is just as valid as any other. His joining the 15th Infantry Regiment during WWI was also linked to his racial politics, as he saw a strong organization of black men as a model for Harlem. The military band he was able to form, with additional outside funding, established a reputation for the black New York regiment in France. According to Noble Sissle, the band also helped the regiment with recruitment in New York, attracting audiences. 

While Europe subscribed to some of the notions popular of his era, such as black musicians having a natural inclination to rhythm, his views on the potential for black popular music are unique in that he did not limit the aesthetic brilliance of black music to spirituals or "sorrow songs." Black music, rooted in the past, also had future routes, one of which was jazz.  Unlike Coleridge-Taylor, Europe saw the value in black popular music, which was something to cultivate rather than ignore. Undoubtedly, Europe's central place in the favorable conditions leading to jazz ensure him a place in the music's pantheon, as well as New York City's centrality to its rise and development. Unfortunately, we have no recordings of Europe's early renditions of "Memphis Blues," which must have been interesting musically as pre-1917 early jazz. 

Atipa Comic Book

Atipa, the first novel in a Creole language, has recently been adapted into a bilingual comic. I would rather read the original novel first, but this is an interesting development that is suggestive of the importance of Atipa in French Guiana's Creole literature and heritage. This is so despite the fact that the novel was ignored for several decades after its initial publication in 1885. From what I have read of the work, most of the novel consists of the eponymous character walking through the streets of Cayenne, engaging his friends and acquaintances in long conversations about a plethora of topics germane to life in the late 19th century in the colony. For anyone interested in the structure of Guianese Creole during this time or the social and cultural world in which Atipa lived would find something valuable in it.

Mama's Black Baby Boy

A vocal quartet recorded in the 1890s, the Unique Quartette are one of the earliest recorded black groups in the US. This recording may be suggestive of how black vocal groups of the 1890s sounded generally, with a detectable influence from spirituals and their Southern past. According to Berlin's biography of Scott Joplin, the ragtime composer began with a vocal quartet that may have sounded something like this.

Variations About the Cascades

The Vienna Art Orchestra's modernized, free interpretation of Scott Joplin's Cascades is worth a listen. Fusing elements of ragtime and experimental jazz, the the orchestra modernizes one of Joplin's most evocative compositions. It's quite playful, much like Joplin's original work.

Reading Janvier Today

In light of recent political and social unrest in Haiti, it never hurts to pay attention to past analysts of Haitian woes. One such intellectual, Louis-Joseph Janvier, left behind a vast legacy in writings encompassing history, constitutional law, diplomatic relations, novels, journalism, and political commentary. His works provide an excellent opportunity to explore some of the persistent thorns in the history of the Black Republic: the peasant question, the color question, development, and forging a strong nation-state. Although Janvier's views of development and his vision for Haiti are more applicable to the time of bayonets rather than today, one cannot help but sense a parallel between the Haiti of today and the Haiti in the turbulent years leading to the first US Occupation. While the UN's MINUSTAH occupation has ended in name, it seems that the nation will continue in his phase of recurring instability for the foreseeable future. Perhaps it may take the form of another MINUSTAH, but these uncertain times call for those interested in Haiti's future to contemplate its past. Thus, Janvier remains relevant in the 21st century. And far more than a noirist, as he is often depicted, Janvier’s nuanced approach to race, class, and development deserve our scrutiny.

Janvier's Views on the Fundamental Question of Land

First, Janvier is important among 19th century Haitian writers for his explanation of Haiti's problems through class lens. Identified by Jean-Jacques Cadet as a Haitian intellectual influenced by socialism and Marxism, Janvier attributes the problems of Haiti to class war, a rural proletariat versus the owners of large estates, grand proprietors (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 483). According to Janvier's view of Haitian history, the assassination of Dessalines in 1806 prevented a veritable land distribution, leading to Goman's revolt for land reform in the Sud (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 488). Furthermore, Boyer's Code Rural was a later attempt to prevent the formation of a class of peasant proprietors, causing a class war (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 493). Indeed, Janvier compared Boyer's Code Rural to slavery because of its restrictions on the movements of paysans (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 149). This unpardonable error of Boyer ensured peasant uprisings of rural proletariats against the bourgeoisie (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 152). 

However, Armand Thoby argued against Janvier's presentation of the history of land reform in Haiti. For Thoby, a member of the Liberal party, it was under Pétion that smallholder agriculture was constituted (La Question agraire en Haiti, 18). Subsequent scholarship on land reform in Haiti tends to support Thoby's assertion, although Janvier did recognize Petion's land distribution policies as limited to a few carreaux for veterans (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 145). Nevertheless, Janvier's identification of class and access to land as key to Haitian peasant unrest, and recognition of the class character, was still accurate. As Alex Dupuy explains, rural Haiti in the 19th century was divided into sharecroppers who did not own land, peasants with land titles, 'middle-class peasants" with titles, and a "landed oligarchy" that rented out land or hired those less fortunate as sharecroppers and day laborers (Dupuy, "Class Formation and Underdevelopment in Nineteenth-Century Haiti," 22). 

For Dupuy, Haitian peasants had mostly controlled the means of production by the second-half of the 19th century, even though perhaps only 1/3 had legal titles. This gave peasants some degree of autonomy, and in areas where the landed oligarchy had more control over sharecroppers or workers, the profits accorded to the landed elites were still meager (Dupuy, 22). In this regard, Dupuy's observation on the limited surplus raised by bourgeois landholders in their exploitation of the peasant echoes Janvier's comment on the limited accumulation of capital in this dynamic of class relations (Janvier, La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 106). Nonetheless, an unequal relationship persisted and the question of access to land, as well as access to education and other economic reforms, ensured struggle over these questions in the future. The specter of Acaau and peasant uprisings haunted Haiti throughout the period of 1843-1915 and the caco uprisings during the US Occupation. 

The Haitian Peasant and the Haitian Worker

Janvier's views of the laboring classes were a combination of paternalism, nationalist pride, and positivist notions of progress. For Janvier, as for many other Haitian writers of his time, such as Beauvais Lespinasse, Firmin, Price, and Delorme, Haiti represented both Africa and la race noir as a civilized polity. Haiti represented black self-capacity to govern. Haiti was, for these writers, a 'Black France' in which Africa and her children were to be regenerated, rehabilitated, and prove to Europe racial equality. Indeed, Janvier identified Haiti as an argument, and Haiti's success was linked to this larger consistent theme of Haitian nationalism's unversalist implications for people of African origins (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 123). Thus, the Haitian worker and peasant, as the majority of the population, became a necessary focus to defend Haitian autonomy, vindicate the black race, and overcome Haiti's political and economic discord. 

Furthermore, without the Haitian working classes, there would be no Haiti. The peasantry made Haiti possible in the first place: "En Haiti c'est le paysan qui fait vivre tout le monde. Quand il ne travaille pas, quand il ne vend pas, quand il n'a pas d'argent, personne ne travaille, ne vend, n'achète, ne consomme, n'a d'argent" (Janvier, Les Affaires d'Haiti, 257). Everything in Haiti depended on the masses, making Janvier's populist vision's favorable views of the Haitian peasant and worker a rational focus. The Haitian peasant, in his response to Cochinant's bad press of Haiti, possessed admirable qualities: disciplined, obedient, fraternal, and gay (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 263). In addition, Janvier predicts the future superiority of the Haitian worker to that of Anglo-Americans because of the former's Latin blood, which imbues artistic, original, and charming features (La Republique d'Haiti et ses Visiteurs, 93). The Haitian worker was also generous, proud, sweet, likable, and patriotic (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 96). He even claimed the Haitian worker and peasant mostly abstain from alcohol (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 138). Drawing from Montesquieu, Janvier also argued that peasants work harder on their own land, pointing to successful examples in France and Romania (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 587). All these aforementioned traits, albeit exaggerated in some cases, suggest the degree to which Janvier identified peasants, workers, and artisans as key to refutation of racist discourses of the Black Republic. 

As a disciple of Pierre Lafitte immersed in Parisian intellectual circles, Janvier's Francophile orientation and positivist influences nonetheless shaped his views of the Haitian peasant. For instance, in Le vieux Piquet, a short novel of the lodyans genre, Janvier defended piquet uprisings as just, legitimate and sane struggles (Janvier, Le vieux piquet, 4). Piquet uprisings, beginning with Goman, were a response to the defeat of Dessalines's promise of land for the majority (Le vieux piquet 9). In this sense, the piquets were the true heirs of the Haitian Revolution. There is some moralizing of a paternalist nature in the novel, too. The narrator of the tale, the head of a lakou and former piquet, directs a message on morality to his grandchildren, urging them to spend less time dancing or avoid frivolous spending (Le vieux piquet, 32). The Protestant work ethic of Janvier's background was likely influencing this passage of the story, which defends piquets struggles for land but expecting peasant behavior to conform to certain standards that he perceived as necessary for social progress. In this sense, piquets were one of the steps in which the peasant could be freed of superstition and enrich the country (Janvier, Les Antinationaux, 97). They, after obtaining control of their lands, would enrich the state through their labor and dedication to the state.

Religion also played a pivotal role. For Janvier, Roman Catholicism was an obstacle to Haitian autonomy and tied to fetishism and fatalism among peasants. Protestant conversion, on the other hand,  was associated with moral reform of the popular classes (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 297). Protestantism would, he believed, support private initiative (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 307), another step forward in Haitian civilization. As one would suspect of an intellectual calling for Protestantism or free-thinking in Haiti, Vodou is another problem for the Haitian lower classes. As a positivist, he linked Vodou to fetishism and polytheism in the first stage in Comte's idea of 3 stages, comparing Vodou to the ancient beliefs of Greece and Rome (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 282). Using Ancient Egypt as an example, Janvier argued against fetishism as an impediment to advanced civilizations (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 281). Moreover, the Catholic Church was hardly less superstitious than Vodou in Janvier's eyes. Like Comte, Janvier saw in fetishism a possible way in which the fetishist could be more amenable to the positive stage. Firmin was likely thinking on similar lines in his description of African religions as practical rationalism (Firmin, The Equality of the Human Races, 342). Within their own internal logic, African 'fetishism' observes the world and responds to the results, within the dictates of its internal logic and observation of phenomena. For Comte, fetishism gave us the subjective method of thought (Comte, System of Positive Policy, Volume 2, 73). Comte later argued polytheism may be easier to adapt for positivism because of the Unity or synthesis of various deities into the shared Destiny, combining the former deities with natural laws (Comte, 89). Protestantism, perceived as subjective, intuitive, scientific, and full of initiative, would be better fit for Haiti to reach the positive stage (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 372). Even better, the Protestant wouldn't waste time on parties and Carnival (Janvier, Haiti aux haitiens, 36). 

Unsurprisingly, Janvier, as a Positivist worried about perceptions of Haiti fallen prey to African atavism, pushed for Protestantism and general education. Like Firmin, he utilized a quasi-Lamarckian explanation of Haiti's progress on the path of civilization  to prove the physical perfectibility of the noir (Janvier, Les detracteurs de la race noire et de la Republique d'Haiti, 47). The civilizing mission of Haiti thus improved the Haitian noir physically, culturally, and mentally. Haitian 'racial' mixture was also a part of this to Janvier, who claimed the Haitian black is almost always a sacatra (Les detracteurs de la race noire et de la Republique d'Haiti, 34). The Haitian, in Janvier's mind, was thus Afro-Latin, on the march toward progress, and with land for every peasant, assured to aid the nation on the path to political, economic, and social liberty. In the meantime, he denied the ongoing practice of Vodou, going as far as denying the old African dances were still practiced in Haiti (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 94). 

A Vision for Haitian Land Reform

After establishing Janvier's class-conscious explanation of Haiti's woes, the virtues and shortcomings of the Haitian peasantry, Janvier's plan for Haitian development deserves attention. As mentioned previously, Protestantism, education, and land reform were key to his vision. Protestantism as part of the moral reform, education for cultivation of the social body and aiding the progress of the nation, and land reform as the first step to ensuring this future. Land reform for Janvier often fixated on the 1883 law passed under Salomon. The 1883 decree gave state lands to those willing to cultivate crops for export, such as coffee or cacao or cotton. As noted by David Nicholls, this law also contained a clause which potentially opened up Haitian land to foreign ownership (Nicholls, Haiti in a Caribbean Context, 45). Janvier did not address this, possibly because of his political support for Salomon, who he depicted as a populist and friend of the peasant cause. In fact, in Le vieux piquet, a member of the narrator's family is named after Salomon, presumably because he championed the peasant cause (Le vieux piquet, 34). Janvier elsewhere defends Salomon as a true democrat (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 495). 

Contradictions of Salomon's presidency not withstanding, Janvier's economic model argued for local accumulation of capital through small proprietorship or peasant collectives (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 482). Obligatory education would accompany land reform (Janvier, L'Egalite des races, 8). Popular banks and access to credit  would help smallholders develop their farms and improve profits (Haiti aux haitiens, 14). New taxes would make possible mandatory general education and access to banks and credit for Haiti, including taxes on foreigners and land (Les Affaires d'Haiti, 310, 316). The aforementioned agricultural collectives would consist of state concessions to peasant associations where the members could meet their needs and grow crops for export (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 588). This form of collectivism drew on the 1801 Constitution of Toussaint Louverture (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 482). Yet, it also hints at a more sympathetic program for the peasantry's cooperative labor practices, like the coumbite. 

The infamous Article 7 of the constitution, prohibiting foreign ownership of land, was defended by Janvier as necessary to securing Haitian independence. He quoted from Pierre Lafitte as proof of the wisdom of the article for preventing powerful nations from taking over Haiti (La Republique d'Haiti, 364). Janvier even criticized sugar production as "aristocratic" and "esclavagiste" (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 465). His critique of attempts to return to refined sugar as a primary export was based on economic and social grounds, since he questioned how wise it would be to pursue an export already sufficiently produced on the international market which was inapplicable and against the interest of smallholder production. Clearly, Janvier's populist economic vision, prioritizing smallholder production and Haitian capital, represented an alternative path to development rather than subservience to foreign capital or a planter class.

On the Color Question

The identification of Janvier as a noirist by David Nicholls warrants commentary (Nicholls, From Dessalines to Duvalier, 113). Although Janvier’s populist leanings and accusations of color prejudice against Boyer, or Liberals, indicates a clear awareness of color as a factor in Haitian society, he also denied that blacks can be racist, claiming they are the first to suffer from racism (La Republique d’Haiti et ses visiteurs, 284). Moving beyond Janvier’s illogical conclusion on the question of blacks possessing color prejudice, he noted the presence of blacks and "mulattoes" in each of the two political parties (La Republique d’Haiti et ses visiteurs, 156). Like other Haitians writing with an eye to foreign readers, Janvier argued that colonial-era caste divisions had almost completely disappeared (Les detracteurs de la race noire et de la Republique d’Haiti, 49). Nonetheless, in Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 1801-1885, Janvier accuses Boyer of fomenting color prejudice, especially in his infamous Code Rural (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 151). Furthermore, "mulattoes" who refused to recognize black authority were victims of atavism, a retrograde movement to the beliefs of their white ancestors (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 292). On the question of the leadership of political leaders, color does not matter as long as the politician is responsible and competent (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 294). 

In light of Janvier’s class-based understanding of Haitian society, referring to him as a noirist may misdirect one from the question of class. Granted, he did accuse members of the Liberal opposition and past regimes led by mulattoes of racial prejudice, but he also recognized “light-skinned” Salnave as a true democrat (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 346). The political vision of Janvier, which he identified as a democratic one, consisted of land for peasants, uprooting superstition (of the European and African variety) and color prejudice and promoting progress (Les Constitutions d’Haiti, 295). Any Haitian leader, regardless of color, who pursued these aforementioned goals, was considered a democrat in Janvier’s conception of a democracy. Since he defined the popular classes as the base of the nation, and Haiti was and remains a “black” nation, the government should represent and act in the best interests of this majority. While Janvier’s narrative of Haitian land and class struggle employed terms like “paysan noir” frequently, his work refers to Haiti as an Afro-Latin society in which nearly everyone is racially and/or culturally mixed complicate easy or quick generalizations. “Noir,” in this context, was tied to Haiti’s larger mission or vocation for black civilization. 

In short, the insidious color question, a legacy of colonialism, was, to Janvier, in decline by the late 19th century and the political discord in Haiti was a result of class conflict and divergence on the question of foreign capital. Color may influence how historical actors perceived social, economic, and political conflict, but did not define or drive it. And Janvier, though not immune to attributing color prejudice to Boyer’s Code Rural, identified the struggles in Haiti as rooted in class, in terms of political economy. Part of his writings on the color question were undoubtedly aimed at Gobineau, Bonneau, Saint-Remy and Benjamin Hunt, authors who believed only or mainly mulattoes were fit to rule Haiti. 

A somewhat similarly-minded Haitian intellectual with an opposing view on the question of color, Emmanuel Édouard, who located class and economic causes for piquet uprisings, commented on the color question (Édouard, Essai sur la politique interieure d’Haiti: proposition d’une politique nouvelle, 40). Édouard, who identified the color question, labor and public instruction as the three problems of Haiti, also noted that in so-called color struggles, "mulattoes" always had black allies and vice versa (Édouard, 46, 64). He also claimed the color question was both a cause and effect of Haitian civil wars (Édouard, 103). For him, the future of Haiti lay with a democratic and progressive party that will bring together the best of mulattoes and blacks (Édouard, 113). What explains the diverging views of Janvier and Edouard? Perhaps the different audiences of their writings may play a role, but even Édouard, who names color as one of the pressing dilemmas, approaches it with nuance while calling for a new political party to improve education, agriculture, and end civil wars. One detects the idea, later adopted by Nicholls and Dupuy, for example, that the black and "mulatto" wings of the Haitian elite, who overlapped significantly on ideology, exploited color to suit their own interests and split the spoils with their partisans and foreigners. In the case of Janvier, one could argue that his vision of progress, which claimed that a Haitian leader did not have to be a noir in color (as long as they’re competent and committed to his populist-leanings), embraced this notion of partnership between the best of both "colors." 

Conclusion 

The relevance of Janvier's ideas should be clear for those in Haiti today. He identified class as key to Haiti's problems, anticipating Marxist analysis of Haitian society.  He elevated the importance of the worker in building a stronger nation, advocating a set of policies to realize that goal. Certain contradictions, such as his lack of comment on Salomon's opening of the National Bank with French capital, or his distorted view of the history of land redistribution to favor Dessalines and Salomon rather than Petion, call into question some of his political alignments and choices. His economic vision even overlapped somewhat with Edmond Paul, a member of the opposing Liberals. But one can surely read Janvier's work as falling somewhere along the continuum of what Jean Casimir identified as a counter-plantation system. As such, Janvier could be read as an intellectual for the masses, His benevolent paternalism and Francophile orientation predisposed him to a sometimes condescending stance on class, and in some cases, even minimizing the distance between the workers and the bourgeoisie. Yet, in spite of these contradictions, Janvier identified the legacy of 1804 in the piquets struggling for land and meaning. He foresaw the disconnect between rural Haiti and the urban elites, so painfully clear in Le vieux piquet, where the cries of peasants of the Sud are never heard by the elites of Jérémie. 

His economic nationalism, defense of piquet rebels, and familiarity with early sociology and socialism enriched his analysis of Haiti's woes in abundantly surprising ways. Although Jean-Jacques Cadet identifies within him a strain of socialism, Janvier is perhaps better seen as a positivist and liberal whose financial nationalism and populism incorporated socialist elements. His conception of the democratic state guiding the untutored masses demonstrated a connection with Delorme's notion of democracy as best functioning in view of the people rather than by the people, even going so far as defending Soulouque's empire, preferring despotism over anarchy (Les Constitutions d'Haiti, 265). He elaborated his belief in a strong, centralized state for encouraging labor, security and avoiding anarchy, quoting Schopenhauer on the need for constitutions to contain a possibility of despotism to prevent lawlessness (La Republique d'Haiti et ses visiteurs, 492). 

Positivism's alleged benefits for women and the working-class, mainly in the latter, were self-evident in Janvier's writings on Haitian society, as was Comte's belief in the need to control property because of its social nature (Comte, General View of Positivism, 113). For Janvier, private property in the hands of peasants or peasant cooperatives needed to be taxed, but also provided with access to credit, banking, state-funded mandatory education, and social control under a benevolent state. The ability of the estate proprietor to exploit sharecroppers or landless workers would have been quite limited if Janvier's vision had been implemented, placing even more control on large estates by limiting their ability to find labor. In that regard, Janvier's populist views surpass that of Delorme, a fellow member of the National party and keen supporter of state intervention in promoting agriculture and acting in the best interests of the masses. Further study of his two full-length novels may also shed light on Janvier's place in Haitian literature, which could enrich our understanding of his political writings. Unfortunately, several of the aforementioned ideas were never implemented, or perhaps done so too late. They remain relevant to the 21st century as questions of sovereignty, social justice, and political reform continue to shape the Petrocaribe protests.

Bibliography

Auguste, Michel Héctor, Sabine Manigat, and Jean L. Dominique. 1986. Haití: la lucha por la democracia : clase obrera, partidos y sindicatos. Puebla, Pue: Universidad Autónoma de Puebla.

Bellegarde-Smith, Patrick. In the Shadow of Powers: Dantès Bellegarde in Haitian Social Thought. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International, 1985.

Bonneau, Alexandre. Haïti: Ses progrès, son avenir; avec un précis historique sur ses constitutions, le texte de la constitution actuellement en vigueur, et une bibliographie d'Haïti. Paris: E. Dentu, 1862.

Bulmer-Thomas, V. The Economic History of the Caribbean Since the Napoleonic Wars. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

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Comte, Auguste. A General View of Positivism. London: Tráubner and co., 1865.

Delorme, D. (Demesvar). Études sur l’Amérique. La Démocratie et le préjugé de couleur aux États-Unis d’Amérique. Les Nationalités américaines et le système Monroë. Bruxelles: H. Thiry-Van Buggenhoudt, 1866.

La Misère Au Sein Des Richesses: Réflexions Diverses Sur Haïti. Port-au-Prince: Editions Fardin, 1976.

Les Théoriciens au pouvoir. Causeries historiques. Paris: H. Plon, 1870.

L’Indépendance d’Haïti et la France, par Charolais. Paris: E. Dentu, 1861.

Denis, Lorimer and Francois Duvalier. Translated by Louis G. Lamothe. Problema de clases en la historia de Haiti: sociología política. Port-au-Prince: Al Servicio de la Juventud, 1948. 

Dubois, Laurent. Haiti: The Aftershocks of History. New York: Metropolitan Books, 2012.

Dupuy, Alex. Haiti in the World Economy: Class, Race, and Underdevelopment Since 1700. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1989.

“Class formation and underdevelopment in nineteenth-century Haiti,” Race & Class 24, no. 1 (1982): 17-31.

Edouard, Emmanuel. Essai Sur La Polítique Intérieure D'Haïti: Proposition D'une Politique Nouvelle. Paris: A. Challamel, 1890.

Fatton, Robert. The Roots of Haitian Despotism. Boulder: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2007.

Firmin, Joseph-Anténor. The Equality of the Human Races: (Positivist Anthropology). New York: Garland Pub., 2000.

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Hunt, Benjamin S. Remarks on Hayti as a Place of Settlement for Afric-Americans: and on the Mulatto as a Race for the Tropics. Philadelphia: T. B. Hugh, 1860.

Janvier, Louis-Joseph. Les Détracteurs de la race noire et de la république d’Haïti (avec Jules Auguste, Clément Denis, Arthur Bowler et Justin Dévost). Paris: Marpon et Flammarion, 1882.

La République d’Haïti et ses visiteurs (1840-1882); réponse à M. Victor Cochinat (de La Petite presse) et à quelques autres écrivains. Paris: Marpon et Flammarion, 1883.

L’Égalité des races. Paris: G. Rougier, 1884.

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Les Antinationaux, actes et principes. Paris: G. Rougier, 1884; Port-au-Prince: Panorama, 1962.

Les Affaires d’Haïti (1883-1884). Paris: C. Marpon et E. Flammarion, 1885; Port-au-Prince: Panorama, 1973.

Les Constitutions d’Haïti, 1801-1885. Paris: C. Marpon et E. Flammarion, 1886; Port-au-Prince: Fardin, 1977.

Le Vieux Piquet ; scène de la vie haïtienne. Paris: A. Parent, 1884.

Du Gouvernement civil en Haïti ; avec le portrait de l’auteur. Lille: Le Bigot frères, 1905.

Jean, Eddy Arnold, and Justin O. Fièvre. Les Idées Politiques Au XIXème Siècle. Port-au-Prince: Editions Haiti - Demain, 2011.

Joachim, Benoit. “La estructura social en Haití y el movimiento de independencia en el siglo XIX,” Secuencia no. 2 (1985): 171-182. 

Laguerre, Michel. The Military and Society in Haiti. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1993.

Laroche, Léon. Haïti: Une Page D'histoire. Paris: A. Rousseau, 1885.

Lewis, Gordon K. Main Currents in Caribbean Thought: The Historical Evolution of Caribbean Society in Its Ideological Aspects, 1492-1900. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983.

Leyburn, James Graham. The Haitian People. New Haven, London, 1966

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Thoby, Armand. La question agraire en Haïti. Port-au-Prince, 1888. 

Trouillot, Michel-Rolph. Haiti, State against Nation: The Origins and Legacy of Duvalierism. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1990.

Justin Lhérisson

A short video on Justin Lhérisson, author of the Haitian national anthem, novelist, poet, journalist, teacher, and historian. This Haitian Renaissance Man left behind a vast legacy on the development of Haitian literature through the lodyans and the troubling social, political, and linguistic questions unresolved in Haitian society. Unfortunately, his early death deprived the world of his future novels, but his two published romans are inventive works which helped to consolidate a literary aesthetic. Of all the realist writers of his era, he was the most creative at fusing both French and Haitian Creole. An audiobook of one of his novels can be heard online. Sadly, we shall never know his sequel to Zoune chez sa ninnaine or La Famille des Gros-Bois...

Cavernism

Earl Hines swings "Cavernism" with a violin solo. Unfortunately, it's too brief but it shows a jazz violinist of equal refinement as those of Grappelli. Despite its brevity, this is a wonderful example of the best in swing during the early 1930s. I am ashamed to admit I have not properly listened to Earl Hines, a pivotal figure in the history of jazz piano. 

Maple Leaf Rag

Another jazz interpretation of Scott Joplin from jazz musicians out of the avant-garde of the 1970s. Anthony Braxton lets loose some hints of his contemporary sound while Muhal Richard Abrams continues to pound on the keyboard in a style reminiscent of ragtime and stride piano. This would have likely worked better with the addition of a drummer, bassist, and another horn player who is more comfortable with improvisation on it. 

Down Home Rag

Some consider this 1916 recording of Wilbur Sweatman playing his own "Down Home Rag" to be the first jazz record. Although it's undeniably rooted in ragtime, Sweatman improvises in a surprisingly jazz or jazz-like manner on his clarinet. According to other accounts, Sweatman was known for his "wild" improvisations on clarinet during past performances in vaudeville shows, suggesting one possible source of jazz improvisation. In spite of its jazz-like qualities, it sounds more like a transitional song. But, it's still "jazzier" than anything James Reese Europe recorded before 1917. 

King of Ragtime: Scott Joplin and His Era

Although ragtime is not my preferred genre of music, my interests in the evolution of black music and, in particular, jazz, warrants an deeper understanding of the genre. Berlin's biography of Joplin is rather sparse on many details of his life, due to the paucity of reliable sources. So, in light of some of the many questions left unanswered by studies of the course of Joplin's personal life, Berlin fills in as many gaps as possible. Using his knowledge of the state of ragtime during Joplin's life, this biography is more of an overview placing the man and his compositions in the social, musical, and cultural context of his era. Joplin's struggles to find legitimacy as a composer. Plusm his views on the eventual uplift of Black America through education (seemingly the motivation for Treemonisha), as well as his seeming admiration for Booker T. Washington reveal something of Joplin's thoughts on social matters and the destiny of the "race." Something peculiar to Black America, rooted in the minstrel and "coon song" tradition, combined with march steps and syncopation, bequeathed to the country the first national music craze. One, it must be said, Joplin hoped to be considered a serious art form.

Berlin's biography is a rewarding one. It focuses heavily on the music, offering analysis of some of the innovative traits of Joplin's compositions. His work also places this son of a former slave into the debates on racial uplift, nascent Tin Pan Alley, and the status of black music in pre-jazz days. In this account of his life, Joplin emerges as a sophisticated, eloquent man who sought to elevate ragtime and be taken seriously as a composer, a struggle bringing to mind future black jazz artists who hoped to be considered true artists alongside the likes of Wagner, Bartok, or Ravel. He also dealt with publishing companies, the association of ragtime with social vices, and the financial insecurity of a musician. All struggles familiar to early jazz. 

So, what was so exceptional about the author of Maple Leaf Rag? According to Berlin's biography, Joplin's previous career in music involved violin lessons from his father, learning the piano with a German instructor, and leading a vocal quartet. Thus, long before ragtime, Joplin was involved in various forms of music, as well as having experience with vocal quartets, popular song, and African American music. His siblings were also involved with music and dance, exemplifying how musical the family was. By the 1890s, after the Exposition in 1893, he eventually ended up in Sedalia, Missouri, a center of commerce and rail transport with a lively musical scene (plus, brothels, bars and social clubs, conditions conducive for musical entertainment or innovation). There, as ragtime consolidated as a genre across the decade, Joplin began a fruitful partnership with Stark's music publishing company. Genius rags such as Maple Leaf Rag brought new dimensions to piano ragtime as well as ensuring Joplin a comfortable income from royalties.

Joplin's rags, often with four strains, experimented with different rhythms, harmonies, tonal patterns, counterpoint, and mood. He also composed marches, operas, waltzes, and, intriguingly, incorporated elements of the blues and Latin music into his works. One piece, Wall Street Rag, even contained narrative sections for each strain, demonstrating an interest in narrative music. Just as many of aforementioned ingredients were present in jazz, Joplin's approach to ragtime composition were of an exceptionally high standard, even recognized as such by whites in Sedalia and music journals in New York. At a time when most white Americans and "respectable" black Americans looked down on ragtime, Joplin's serious demeanor and attempts to elevate black music to the esteemed status of Western classical stand out. His attempts at opera, although the first one is lost, demonstrate the breadth of his musical vision. They also exhibit an excellent blend of the European tradition with African American styles, including some of the Southern African American musical traditions he was exposed to through his parents. This is several years before Gershwin's Porgy and Bess, and more of an actual operatic work than what Will Marion Cook was doing at the time. 

How does it relate to jazz? And what did Joplin think of the nascent jazz of the 1910s New York? He corresponded with Jelly Roll Morton, the self-proclaimed inventor of jazz. His friend, Wilbur Sweatman, later became a jazz musician himself. During his time in St. Louis during the early 1900s, he also participated in an active ragtime community (Tom Turpin, Louis Chauvin, etc.) where other black pianists of the artist engaged in "cutting" contests, showing off their instrumental chops, reminiscent of future jazz musicians. As a member of the black musical entertainment circles of New York, he participated in the Colored Vaudeville Benevolent Association and the Clef Club. This means he almost certainly knew or at some level interacted with James Reese Europe, Ford Dabney, and other musicians active in black cabarets in the Tenderloin district, later Harlem (which was becoming increasingly black in the final decade of Joplin's life. 

Indeed, during Joplin's New York years, blues and "proto-jazz" (or jazz, depending on one's definition of the term) were increasingly heard, which may explain some of the blues elements in Joplin's music, particularly Magnetic Rag. Unfortunately, his painful death due to syphilis deprived the world of watching the further developments of his work. However, Berlin states Joplin was ignored by Europe and others in the Clef Club, so perhaps Joplin would have remained on the margins of the new music while attempting to stage Treemonisha. Alternatively, his relationship with Wilbur Sweatman and Jelly Roll Morton may have pushed him into jazz, where he could have perhaps emerged as the most important composer in the genre's early stage. How he would have responded to improvisation on his tunes one cannot say, but his sophisticated musical knowledge could have enriched early jazz's songbook.

Weeping Willow Rag

Air, consisting of Henry Threadgill, Henry Hopkins, and Steve McCall, produced a gem in their jazz interpretation of a Scott Joplin ragtime piece. "Weeping Willow Rag" manages to accomplish the impossible: retain that bouncy, old-time feel of the original yet sounding contemporary. Since many elements of free and avant-garde jazz were a return to the roots of the music, it's not altogether too shocking that Air were able to bring to life Joplin's ragtime compositions. Even without a piano, their version captures that ragged, two-step style with rollicking drums and old-timey saxophone from Threadgill who can't help but turn this weeping willow into an upbeat one. There is a celebration of life in music such as this, which I can appreciate in similar jazz forays into the past of black music. 

Aya de Yopougon

Reading comics yesterday evening reminded me of some of the joy I found in reading the Aya series during the spring. Although I had first encountered the series several years ago, I foolishly dismissed reading it until several conversations with comic book aficionados led me to consider it. And I am glad I did so. Marguerite Abouet and Clement Oubrerie's collaboration produced an excellent comic series in a setting usually ignored by most Western graphic novels or comic books. The series and the film based on it tell stories of normal, everyday people who happen to live in Abidjan, Ivory Coast. 

Although much of the Western media conception of places like Ivory Coast would lead one to think there is nothing there but misery and suffering, stories like Aya demonstrate the humanity and complexity of lives in Global South places often overlooked. Through the central character of Aya and her family, friends, and acquaintances, the series also manages to confront social issues (sexism, racism, immigration, homophobia, single mothers, marital infidelity) while delivering entwined stories imbued with the local color, sentiment, and vibrancy of 1970s Abidjan. 

The artistic style likewise succeeds. The lively use of color, line, and detail brings the dusty-streets of Yop City and its denizens to life. The film, unfortunately, fails to capture this magic, but brings with it the sounds of 1970s Ivory Coast to great effect. Oubrerie's artistic style, however, manages to avoid the zany, over the top cartoonish feel of The Rabbi's Cat. His stylized approach to drawing the human form, capturing a variety of details, hairstyles, and non-cliched backgrounds is simultaneously realistic and abstract. There's an almost hazy, uneven color palette and design that almost captures a 1970s feel, perhaps akin to a harmattan season in Ivory Coast. 

The late 1970s were perceived to be an era of prosperity for Ivory Coast. Unlike other countries in West Africa, the nation's economic growth, political stability, active musical scenes, and beginnings of consumer advertising (represented by TV ads in the film adaptation) suggest a highly sophisticated, cosmopolitan Abidjan, connected to Paris, the US, and international developments in popular culture. Indeed, the homosexual hairdresser looks like Michael Jackson, while Aya and her friends exhibit a cultural chic and style that's hard not to love. Their slang, expressions, and desire for youthful entertainment (dancing, dating, socializing with their peers) are universal and particular. 

Yet, Yop City is no beaming city on the hill. Social inequality exists, with Moussa's father being a great example of a self-made bourgeois who thinks little of Yop City's working-class and poor. The disconnect between the seemingly "modern" capital and village life is similarly stark, as those left behind in the village seem to fester in poverty or superstition while their urban migrant kin struggle to find work. Some, like Aya's father, work for a company and achieve status, others toil as mechanics, barbers, market vendors, domestics, or, in one case, a delinquent pretending to be a successful man in France who lives off his mother. Aya's friend, who becomes a single mother who cannot rely on her child's father for support, is forced to grow up faster by working as a fried food vendor in the local market. 

In addition, the characters must confront sexual harassment (Aya and her biology professor), homophobia (the hairdresser who confronts it both in Ivory Coast and France), bigotry (the hairdresser's travails in France to find lodging, love, acceptance), unfaithful spouses (Aya's father), and "traditional" values in a rapidly changing social context. No longer moored in the "village," and living in the topsy-turvy era of superficial economic progress, Aya and friends experience all the contradictions of modern life in the Global South. Perhaps that is part of the success of the series, its universal features. Indeed, while reading it, I could not help but think of Haiti, perhaps a Port-au-Prince of the 1970s captured so well by Dany Laferrière. There a similar dynamic of young people struggling to make their mark in the world while uncertain political and economic conditions threaten to unravel every decision. Aya achieves this for young women in Abidjan while ravishing the reader with the complications of quotidian existence in a place not too different from one's own background. 

Unfortunately, the only major flaw to Aya is the lack of a proper resolution for the series. The film drops several storylines and, unsurprisingly, feels rushed. The comic, however, also feels like it ends prematurely, without a proper send-off for the characters. What happens with Aya's half-siblings? How about Moussa and his father after the latter is finally tracked down? There is a conclusion, albeit fleeting. It's almost as if these engaging characters are only willing to share the stories of their lives with you for an afternoon, then disappear without a trace. I know Abouet continued the series through Aya's younger sister, but I was hoping for a greater climax and emotionally satisfying ending. There are several possibilities for a sequel, too, such as the Ivorian migrant experience in Paris. Or what becomes of Aya in adulthood, presumably finished with her university education and a professional? Will she still see her best friends, despite their different outcomes and ambitions? What about the status of young women in Abidjan of today? I suppose the only thing left to do is to try Commissaire Kouamé for Abouet's other comic series set in Ivory Coast. 

Moten Swing

Another gem of the early Swing era in jazz, "Moten Swing." Bennie Moten's group, the nucleus of the legendary Count Basie Orchestra, showcases that uniquely Kansas City Swing sound of swingin' rhythms and blues. Moten's rhythm section and use of the horns for its bluesy riffs is impeccable here. 

Myself When I Am Real

Writing a biography is an arduous task. How much information should one inundate the text with? How repetitive can it get before reading becomes a chore? Gene Santoro's biography of Mingus, Myself When I Am Real: The Life and Music of Charles Mingus suffers from providing almost excessive detail that gets in the way of the narrative. In a sense, Mingus's fictionalized autobiography is a superior read, despite its lack of attention to Mingus's music. Santoro's biography excels, however, in contextualizing Mingus in the era of bop, the Beats, and larger social currents of his era (Civil Rights Movement, Cold War, counterculture). Santoro also describes, in great detail, the musical styles and evolution of Mingus, stressing his experimental and creative side that actually predated many advances in jazz made by his contemporaries or successors (cool, third stream, hard bop, gospel-jazz, non-Cuban Latin jazz, collective improvisation, unique Ellingtonian styles, spontaneous composition in his various Jazz Workshops). 

What does Santoro's biography reveal about the Angry Man of Jazz as a person and product of his times? We learn in greater detail the family circumstances of Mingus, whose black-Chinese mother died soon after his birth. Raised by an abusive father and a stepmother in Watts, Mingus gravitates toward music. A major influence on his musical and intellectual breadth, Lloyd Reese, is emphasized for his knowledge of classical music. Reese and the salon-styled culture of his home helped introduce Mingus to a larger world of contemporary classical music (Schoenberg, etc.) and Hollywood film score composers. His time in San Francisco also exposed him to the pre-Beatnik culture, mainly through  painter Farwell Taylor. Mingus may or may not have ever been part of any movement formally, but he was around to imbibe some of the influences. By the time he arrived in New York, initially staying with cousins in Queens, Mingus already had experience working in an experimental group, working with Dmitri Tiomkin, and a child  or two left behind in Los Angeles. Like Ellington, music was Mingus's mistress (although, Mingus always required women to reveal his soul to). 

The rest of the biography provides an overview of the changes in lineup of Mingus's various bands, Debut (his record label), various marriages and breakups (Celia, Judy, then the final marriage to Sue), and Mingus's growing stature as a bassist and composer in jazz. By the late 1950s, he was a fixture at the Five Spot, like Monk, whose reputation for a quick temper and musical talent astounded many. He had already recorded with or worked alongside many musicians in the best of postwar jazz, including Max Roach, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, and Miles Davis. He found "his drummer",  Dannie Richmond. His Jazz Workshop was able to come to complete his compositions through Mingus's flexible composition style, which let them choose how to improvise or complete sections, giving the appearance of a spontaneous composition for audiences. A string of acclaimed albums, tours, and the beginnings of financial success led to a comfortable Mingus strutting around Manhattan, eating at gourmet restaurants, occasionally joining street protests. 

By the late 1960s, however, he was in a funk. Mingus barely touched the bass, was hospitalized again, and everything seemed to crumble. Dannie Richmond was playing in a fusion or rock band for two years. Mingus couldn't keep together a consistent band. The loss of great musical partners from his past, especially Eric Dolphy (perhaps, with Jaki Byard, the best band of Mingus), not to mention Mingus's volatile behavior which alienated former sidemen (Jimmy Knepper comes to mind), must have weighed heavily on his mind. By the early 1970s, however, Mingus's 'comeback' was in motion, yet he was no longer part of the zeitgeist. Youth flocked to rock venues, jazz was struggling, and Mingus had no interest in joining free jazz or fusion. According to Santoro, he respected Ornette Coleman and other free artists, but he thought many were primitives who did not properly understand the structure they were violating, thus leading to chaos. With the end of the decade, ALS and declining health led to a Mingus unable to play bass, who endeavored to compose with a tape recorder and assistance of arrangers. Some unsuccessful albums, such as a fusion one he was pressured to complete by the record label, did not do much for Mingus's music. Nor did the collaborative project with Joni Mitchell. 

After dying, Mingus's ashes were thrown into the Ganges. Like many jazz musicians, he was into mysticism and, like many in the counterculture, attracted to Eastern religion. He was also a contradictory figure who, despite his interest in mysticism, was a glutton, enjoyed All in the Family, was not a consistent father, and had troubles with infidelity. As Santoro would say, "he was his father's son." Whether or not he was bipolar, Mingus's reputation preceded him everywhere he went. Personally, I believe perceptions of Mingus as unruly and unstable, while sometimes factual, obscure the reality of a complex figure who was struggling to make his mark in a world where black composers were not taken seriously. Only near the end of his life were universities and formal institutions opening up to black jazz musicians, so just as his health declined, his stature as a serious composer was on the rise. Nevertheless, fans of his music should read Santoro's biography as well as Beneath the Underdog, to gain perspective on the larger social and musical currents in his life while reading through the dialogue-heavy autobiography for an example of how Mingus wanted to present his life, albeit in a heavily edited text. 

Psych

Why do we commit ourselves to absurd things without end? Psych, a mystery show I watched back when it first premiered occupied about 2 or 3 months of my life. It never matched Monk in terms of the intricacy of its cases or the emotional and comedic heights of the defective San Francisco defective. However, I found myself watching at least 1 episode per day for months to complete the show. While it's 8 seasons fortunately only amounted to 120 episodes, it still occupied too much of my time to justify watching it.

Nonetheless, for comfort television in the mystery genre, it's light-hearted and simple entertainment that fills a niche. Like Monk, it's comedic nature and mostly episode of the week format are compelling features. One can skip or miss several episodes of Psych but resume watching at nearly any point. Of course, this can be a drawback when the series is on the air too long, which happened with Psych. The show probably should have ended after 5 or 6 seasons, given a proper conclusion instead of the finale setting the show up for a film.

However, after one tolerates the rocky pilot and initial episodes, the show begins to grow on you. The premise is undeniably absurd, but as a mystery-comedy series, it works. James Roday's character, Shawn Spencer, is mildly insufferable, sarcastic, and full of interminable pop culture references. Somehow, despite his immaturity and other character flaws, women are drawn to him. His keen sense of observation, honed by his cop father with whom his relationship is also flawed, makes him seem extraordinary to many. His best friend, Gus, is often a flat Watson to his Sherlock.

While Gus is undeniably book smart and has a wealth of knowledge in pharmaceutical products, which sometimes plays a key role in solving cases, he's usually the butt of jokes, becomes an excuse for bland racial humor, or serves as a babysitter for Shawn. Julia, the Santa Barbara police detective who is a love interest for Shawn, is part of the series endless will they-won't they love angle. Lassiter, another police detective, dislikes Shawn but gradually grows to work beside him despite never believing in his "psychic" detective methodology.

At its best, Psych depicts a great detective who is defective in other ways (childish nature) confronting the darker side of sunny Santa Barbara. Murder, kidnappings, assassinations, ethnic slumming (Indian, Chinese, and other cultures are exploited for local color in some episodes), ghost stories, grisly past crimes, and even serial killers are brought down by Shawn and Gus. Along the way, genre-bending, homages to great TV series or films (like Polanski's Chinatown), and mild emotional growth occur. For instance, the relationship between Shawn and his father improves over time.

His romantic life also develops, first with a serious relationship with a high school flame, then with Julia (although this one is dragged for far too long). Moreover, fans of Phylicia Rashad are treated to her guest appearances as Gus's mother. Some cases, particularly the first one involving a serial killer who targets Shawn's mother, is well-written and suspenseful. Naturally, as many shows of this ilk are wont to do, Yang is brought back too many times and loses her creepiness. Some of the other episodes, which attempted to break out of the conventions of the show, such as a musical, were also less than spectacular.

Overall, Psych is acceptable comfort television. Anyone searching for a serious mystery drama will not find what they're searching for here. As a successor of sorts to Monk it falls short. But it does bring a contradictory Santa Barbara to life. The Watson-type character should have been better, yet the show does feature a large cast of quirky characters who are endearing. Woody, the inappropriate and comedic relief of a coroner, is especially funny with his innuendo or when coming on to Chief Vick. If only the show ended after season 5 or 6, then it would be easier to rewatch. 

Everything Happens To Me

In spite of my rather harsh conclusions about Baker in a previous post, I have actually been enjoying his music this week. This recording of "Everything Happens to Me" is quite captivating. I first heard this standard in an instrumental version by Paul Desmond, whose lyrical and relaxed "West Coast" aesthetic is perfect for this number. Chet Baker's version, however, is even more languid and drenched in melancholy. Of course, one can see certain limitations in Baker's skills as a vocalist, but he has his moments. 

Issa El Saieh and Haitian Music

Issa El Saieh: Maëstro and Legend/ A Portrait of My Pal, His Times and His Music by Mats Lundahl and Carl Louis Saint Jean is an indispensable source for detailed information about Haitian music in the middle of the 20th century. For those interested in transnational dimensions of jazz or big band music in the Caribbean, Latin America, or other corners of the world, it also provides an interesting case study of the rise of modern dance clubs, localized forms of jazz, and discourses of authenticity in national music. While the presence of jazz music in Haiti predates Issa El Saieh's musical career, emerging during the US Occupation, much of Port-au-Prince's social and cultural history is revealed in this detailed account of Issa El Saieh's life. Issa's pivotal role in bringing bop and big band innovators from the US to assist in his orchestra helped bring modern jazz sensibilities to Haitian music. Through the various members of his orchestra, such as Ernest Nono Lamy or Raoul Guillaume, these jazz influences percolated into successive forms of popular Haitian music, particularly compas. In short, Issa El Saieh's band was vital for the development of Haitian music, a nascent recording industry, and the cross-fertilization of the local with new sounds from US jazz. 

Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker

James Gavin's biography of Chet Baker is a welcome relief compared to the biography of Keith Jarrett I read last week. Instead of the constant and fulsome praise, Gavin reveals himself to be an objective fan and biographer of Baker's inconsistent musical work and self-destructive life. Although it occasionally became tedious to read in great detail much of Baker's efforts to stone himself into oblivion with heroin, coke, or other drugs, this biography manages to stay interesting and readable. After a certain point, however, one bores of hearing about all the many people Baker disappointed, exploited, or neglected. 

But, Gavin manages to balance the sordid details of Chet's life with the trajectory of his musical career. As an objective observer, he notes how Baker's sound was defined early in his career and he spent the remainder of his time endeavoring to perfect that smooth, lyrical tone. Unlike, say, Miles Davis, he often surrounded himself by inferior sidemen, which weakened his live performances and recordings. Baker's declining physical and mental health likewise contributed. The loss of teeth, learning to play the trumpet again, and the impact of decades of drug use on his body led to a prematurely aging man who, perhaps, proved what some early critics noted all along: Baker was lifted to the heights of trumpet stardom without necessarily possessing the required chops or discipline. 

Mulligan noted it, and a number of black jazz musicians were aware of Baker's shortcomings. Baker happened to come along at the right place at the right time: southern California, the rise of a West Coast jazz aesthetic, white, and good-looking. The alleged values and virtues of West Coast jazz could be perfectly encapsulated in Baker's angelic face and easy-going, yet vulnerable music. Women and girls loved him, his whiteness opened doors that few black jazz musicians could have accessed at that time. Yet, Baker, who perhaps was a small-minded person who only wanted to stay high, play trumpet, and be "cool" comes off as an irredeemable man with a career littered with sub-standard recordings. 

As a tortured genius or artist, one can see why Gavin speculates that Europeans appreciated Baker more than Americans, but it is difficult for me to justify listening to most of Baker's recordings after the early zenith of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet, Baker's own Quartet with Russ Freeman, and a handful of later recordings in Europe. Of course, after losing more teeth in the late 1960s, Baker did come back stronger as a player in a "harder" style, more akin to bop and Miles, but not enough to sustain my interest. In the end, Baker's life and music remain a tragic reminder of the importance of one's decisions and ultimate responsibility. Chet, unfortunately, chose the path of no responsibility and suffered the consequences of failing as a father, husband, provider, and artist.

Keith Jarrett: The Man and His Music

Although my last serious phase of Keith Jarrett music was nearly 3 years ago, I decided to read Ian Carr's biography of Jarrett to gain new insights or find critical opinion on his life and music. Unfortunately, Carr is too much of a fan boy to offer criticism, but the detailed biography does describe key moments of Jarrett's life and music from his birth to the end of the 1980s. Jarrett's background in Allentown, Pennsylvania or his early years of struggle to 'make it' as a musician will be familiar to all students of jazz biography. The journey of self-discovery, finding one's voice, and "making it" are universal experiences. 

For Jarrett, who was asked to leave Berklee, his big chance was finally getting to sit in at the Village Vanguard, which led to an engagement with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. Then, during the 1960s, his time with the Charles Lloyd Quartet led to Jarrett gaining an international reputation, first in Europe then the United States. George Avakian, Jack DeJohnette, Jarrett, and others are interviewed on this formative experience, as well as the group's eventual dissolution due to Lloyd allegedly keeping large chunks of the group's touring profits to himself (not to mention a musical decline on the part of Lloyd, whose descent into hippie mysticism may have contributed). Playing with Miles Davis, Charlie Haden, Paul Motian, certainly aided in young Jarrett's musical ability by immersing him in all the advanced strains of 1960s jazz, too. 

Most of my favorite recordings of Keith Jarrett consist of his American Quartet and the Standards Trio with DeJohnette and Gary Peacock. However, Ian Carr seems to hold Jarrett's European quartet in higher esteem. Although I am familiar with ECM, Manfred Eicher, and Jan Garbarek, I was never too immersed in ECM jazz. Indeed, much of Jarrett's catalog with that LP seemed to be a little lifeless compared to his American quartet with Charlie Haden, Dewey Redman, and Paul Motian. Nevertheless, Carr's biography has persuaded me to investigate the Belonging group's recordings, especially when they performed compositions such as "Windup," which demonstrates Jarrett's affinity for folk and ethnic music. 

In fact, much of what I enjoyed about Jarrett's eclectic tastes in the past was his ability to fuse folksy and traditional material with new sounds. In that respect, he is not too far removed from some of the avant-garde jazz legends, such as Coleman or Ayler. As far as his solo piano performances or classical adventures, I am not too convinced. Spirits may be interesting as an example of Jarrett's return to the 'roots' of music, but fundamentally, Jarrett is at his best when performing in jazz trio or quartet contexts. His interpretation of standards is highly individualized yet respectful of the tradition. Whether or not one agrees with Carr about Jarrett's status as the most influential jazz pianist of modern jazz, he is undoubtedly one of the more creative and recognizable musicians in the field.

One hopes for a subsequent study of Jarrett's life and music that is more objective to complement this one, which at least provides an overview of Jarrett's life and career. Jarrett's "state of grace" while improvising is undeniably worth reading about here, particularly in terms of how he defined it and was shaped by the moral values instilled by his parents. Yet, one cannot help but yearn for more critical perspectives on the eventual fall of the American quartet, the thoughts of Motian, Haden, and Redman. Or, perhaps, how mysticism and New Age thought inflicted the jazz world, not that Jarrett ever became a spiritualist of the sort Horace Silver was.