Ephesian Tale

Xenophon of Ephesus's Ephesian Tale is the shortest of the five ancient Greek "novels" or romances. Possibly because it is an epitome of a longer work, it moves rather quickly in the plot of its two young lovers, Habrocomes and Anthia, who become enamored at first sight in their hometown of Ephesus. Like the other ancient Greek romances, the two vow their allegiance to the the other but are separated and reunited after surviving pirate attacks, oracles, enslavement, banditry, executions, poisoning, being buried alive, lustful men and women interested in both for their beauty and the intervention of the gods (of Greek and Egyptian extraction). Their trials bring them across the Mediterranean and the fringes of the Hellenistic world, including Egypt, "Ethiopia" (Nubia), the Levant, Asia Minor, Sicily, and Italy. 

Despite its short length and the lack of developed characters, the narrative manages to engage the reader with the sense of wonder and adventure. It follows many of the same conventions as the other surviving romances of its era, such as piracy in the Mediterranean, extended backgrounds of each main character as they are introduced, Egyptian bandits of the Nile Delta, and exotic peoples and gods whose intercession shapes the lives of the two protagonists. The god of the Nile himself directly intercedes on the behalf of Habrocomes, saving his life with his waters from a crucifixion and the flames of a pyre. It is at the temple of Isis in Memphis where Anthia is able to prevent her rape by Polyidus, who routs Hippothous's band of robbers. Intriguingly, this "novel" is also the first to be partially set in "Ethiopia," where Hippothous and his bandits have moved to raid traders en route to India and exotic lands. Cosmopolitan Alexandria also makes an appearance, where an Indian ruler named Psammis is visiting and buys Anthia as his lave, hoping to woo her. 

Exotic Indian rulers and allusions to the lucrative trade through the Red Sea from Egypt and the Nile may have been a precedent for the allusions to the wealth of "Ethiopia" in Heliodorus's more successful novel of the 300s. The translator of the edition read for this post, Graham Anderson, questions the geographic knowledge of Xenophon, but it is perfectly plausible that Egypt, Nubia ("Ethiopia") and India intersected through the Red Sea and overland trade routes from the Nile Valley, although the exploits of Hippothous and his bandits in Coptos and Nubia are not fully detailed. Indeed, they later endeavor to leave "Ethiopia" because they missed attacking larger towns and settlements instead of the individual traders and small groups (such as that of Psammis, returning to India) they attacked on the borderlands of Egypt and what must be the kingdom of Meroe. Nonetheless, this partial setting of the story in "Ethiopia" links Nile Valley banditry in southern Egypt with the vast wealth and exoticism of Africa and India, which is clearly a theme of Helodorus's Aethiopika. While there are no "Ethiopian" characters in the novel, the Nile itself and Egyptian settings present an exotic and challenging set of ordeals the two lovers endure to reaffirm their chastity or virtue. 

Leucippe and Clitophon

Leucippe and Clitophon seems to be unique among the extant ancient Greek "novels" for its use of a first-person narrator, who tells his tale to the initial narrator in the beginning of the text. In other respects, it is quite similar to the other Greek romances in that two young people fall in love at first sight but must endure a number of trials before consummating their relationship in proper marriage. The virtue of virginity for maidens and the intervention of the deities (especially Eros, Aphrodite, Artemis and Poseidon) or deus ex machina are, as in Heliodorus's novel, prolific. The author, Achilles Tatius of Alexandria, is believed to have composed the romance in the early 1st century of our era, thus predating Helidorus but drawing on similar precedents from earlier texts and Greek literature and mythology. In addition, Achilles Tatius is a master of vivid prose describing works of art, as well as the wondrous Nile of his Egyptian homeland. 

Though the kissing cousins are of Tyre and Byzantium, it is in Egypt where their most exotic and exciting escapades occur. Menelaus, the Egyptian native and proponent of pederasty (like Clinias, a cousin of Clitophon who loses his lover, Charicles), becomes a guide of sorts, a familiar Other who assists Clitophon, Leucippe, Clinias, and Satyrus for their survival in exotic Egypt. Achilles Tatius has them fend off dark-skinned bandits in the Nile Delta (not as black as Indians, but akin to "half-caste Ethiopians"), witness battles between the Egyptian army and said bandits, experience the lighthouse at Pharos near Alexandria, and hear descriptions of elephants while gazing upon the fauna of the Nile, particularly the crocodile and hippopotamus. In cosmopolitan Alexandria, Clitophon, believing Leucippe dead for the umpteenth time, agrees to marry Melite, a wealthy presumed widow of Ephesus, shifting the story's center away from Egypt for the final denouement and reunion of the the two lovers. 

But let us return to the Egyptian exoticism and African references in the tale. The Nile itself becomes a character, as its waters and the soil of the delta converge and separate, creating the marshes, streams, and lakes of the Delta region. In Tatius's novel, the legendary phoenix, which lives upriver in "Ethiopia," land associated with the Sun, comes to Egypt to die and thus reaffirms the cycle of life from the Nile's origins in the land of the Sun to Egypt. Egypt is a land of wonders (fauna, Alexandria), of horrors (a fake human sacrifice to appease the bandits is organized by Menelaus and Satyrus) and, I would argue, where the debased nature of Thersander of Ephesus is compared to the bestial bandits and conniving characters lusting for Leucippe (Chaereas, Charmides). The Egyptian setting occupies a central middle part of the narrative, after the elopement of Leucippe and Clitophon from Tyre and the subsequent shipwreck, thus, the exotic world(s) of the Nile presents the otherworldly ordeals of the two lovers must persevere against to achieve their union.

Coltrane: The Story of a Sound

Ratliff's Coltrane: The Story of a Sound is somewhat disappointing. It does not fail to deliver in its coverage of the evolution of Coltrane's music from the earliest navy band recordings to his death 1967. However, a full biography would likely have contextualized more effectively some of the conditions in which Coltrane felt a compulsion to constantly evolve and search for deeper meaning in his music. Ratliff, without hagiography and excessive biographical detail, does manage to accomplish some of this through other biographies and interviews with those who knew Coltrane. But for reasons perhaps unbeknownst to me, the text does does not quite capture the sublime quality of Coltrane's music in the manner a proper biography would. Everything seems aloof and unmoored from the context of his work, despite its coverage of the full breadth of Coltrane's career. 

Further, I am not convinced I share the author's opinions on some of Coltrane's creative decisions or personnel, particularly the enriching role of Eric Dolphy as a sideman and arranger for some of Coltrane's most riveting work (Africa/Brass and Olé Coltrane). I've long enjoyed the contrast in styles represented by Dolphy and the Coltrane "classic" quartet, and contrasting nature of Dolphy's own style adds a beautiful clash. His arranging skills and mutual interest in "Eastern" and Indian musical modes and expression surely shaped Coltrane, too, adding another speech-like layer of sound through his alto and bass clarinet solos. I suppose one can always find points of disagreement among fans and aficionados of Coltrane, as his vast legacy has shaped free and mainstream jazz since his untimely death in 1967. 

Panama

Luis Russell, who happened to be Panamian, recorded one of the best renditions of the old standard named for the land of his birth. Composed by William Tyers, the song has dropped its Latin rhythms but Russell added the best of the New Orleans sound in an early swing context. 

The Quest of the Silver Fleece

For a novel steeped in African-American conjure and Southern folk belief, Du Bois's first novel promotes an ambivalence with regards to the conjure tradition. Like his second novel, Dark Princess, it is a romance in which the struggle of black characters against racism is embedded in the trials of the two young lovers. However, without exotic Indian princesses and the theme of the global color line, The Quest of the Silver Fleece focuses on African-American characters and their white counterparts in the struggle against the post-Reconstruction political economy of Alabama, with only a few references to the connections between the oppressed colored masses of the US and colonized peoples elsewhere.

The kingdom of cotton is thoroughly analyzed here, demonstrating precisely how "slavery by another name" persisted after the Civil War in places like the fictional Tooms County, Alabama. The combination of the Southern planter aristocracy and Northern capitalists combining their forces to consolidate the exploitation of black sharecroppers, the denial of education for black children, and the violation of black womanhood due to their rape and sexual exploitation by white men are constants here. Part of the story is set in the nation's capital, where the alliance of Northern capital and the Southern aristocracy asserts itself in the Republican party's opportunistic and limited support of black civil rights. Again, like Dark Princess, Bles Alwyn, akin to Matthew in the later novel, is paired with a light-skinned and cynical black woman, but cannot abandon his ideals too long and eventually returns to the South. 

As a romance novel with some of the socialist themes one can expect from Du Bois (hopes for eventual collaboration of blacks and poor whites against their capitalist exploiters, critiques of industry and monopoly capitalism), Bles and the other protagonist, Zora, build their own kingdom after clearing the swamp in which Zora's mother, Elspeth, resided. They clear the swamp with the help of black tenants, splitting the profits with them to fund the school started by Miss Smith and expand services and settlement-work. Thus, a combination of sorts of black nationalist assertions of self-rule, communal land ownership, and utopian romance come together through the union of a "wild child" of the swamp and Bles, who represents the larger world of knowledge and higher ideals.

This is where the ambivalence with regards to the "half-forgotten heathen cult" comes in. It is through a magic cotton seed of Elspeth that the swamp first produces the "Silver Fleece," a metaphor for black authority and independence in the midst of the planter domination of the Cresswells and other former slaveholders. Zora, although not completely aware of her heritage, hears Elspeth claim descent from an African king, and she witnesses the bizarre world of the swamp, its charm, and the "dreams." As a former child of the swamp, removed from social norms, her quest of knowledge, largely initiated by Bles, culminates in her central leadership of the plan to save the Smith school for black children and clear the swamp for an egalitarian farm. In the course of doing this, she nearly fails and is rejected by the local preacher, Jones, as a child of a "voodoo woman." 

Nonetheless, she believes "the Way" consists of one's actions, not in one's faith, so she takes the initiative and eventually triumphs. She places her faith in human actions and solidarity among the great black masses, not in any Christian God or half-remembered African spirits. In this regard, she brings to mind the eponymous heroine of Scott Joplin's opera, Treemonisha. Like Zora, Treemonisha embodies knowledge and becomes a messianic figure, a black Athena to guide the lost masses ever onward in education, progress, and the realization of their own potential. However, in Joplin's "ragtime opera," conjure and hoodoo are represented as negative influences preying on the superstition and ignorance of the emancipated black masses. Further, whites are nearly absent in Joplin's opera, whereas Du Bois's novel features multiple white characters and the political economy of Jim Crow to show the tremendous obstacles to the agency of African-Americans. 

I would conclude that, for Du Bois, who novel reflects a Greek myth and African-American conjure, the "pagan" past can lay the seeds for a future, but only if they don't lead to a fatalism among the oppressed. One thinks of Jacques Roumain and The Masters of the Dew here, although Du Bois never comes close to celebrating "voodoo" in the manner of Haitian indigénisme. Perhaps The Quest of the Silver Fleece can be construed as a transitional work in which African-derived spirituality was portrayed ambivalently but not denounced, as would be expected within the civilizationist discourse of black nationalist thought prior to the "primitivism" of the interwar years. 

Moon Dreams

Rest in peace, Lee Konitz. The last surviving member of the Birth of the Cool recordings has left us. "Moon Dreams" has long been a personal favorite from those historic recording sessions, ineffably light, soothing, and dreamy. 

Pa Coute Conseil

One can listen to this song on repeat for hours. "Pa Coute Conseil" demonstrates those Cuban and Latin influences Haitian music has absorbed for a long time, particularly in the guitar, rhythms, and, if you will, carefree abandon suggested by the song's title and lyrics. "Anna" is also highly recommended for fans of Charmeurs du Cap's other songs. 

The Golden Ass

Apuleius's The Golden Ass is a hilarious tale of a man transformed into a donkey. Written in the 100s, perhaps during the reign of Marcus Aurelius, the North African author combines comedy and moral education in a tale of magic. Lucius, the protagonist, and central character in novel loaded with inset stories, suffers from an unnatural interest in magic and sex, ultimately leading to his accidental transformation into an ass by Photis, his lover (and slave of Milo and Pamphile, the witch). P.G. Walsh's translation ably renders into the English language much of Apuleius's wicked humor and satire of social relations, the Roman Senate, "catamite" priests, and unfaithful servants. Walsh's translation does not "modernize" the text to make it too informal or contemporary, so it still almost reads like something a Latin-speaker wrote over 1800 years ago. 

Like other ancient "novels" of the Roman Empire, the narrative structure brings to mind Arabian Nights through its several stories of infidelity, disloyal slaves, sorcery, supernatural events, bandits, greedy estate-owners, and, in the tale of Cupid and Psyche, a fable with Platonist or philosophical implications. Cupid and Psyche's tale occupies a significant chunk of the text, suggesting its central importance to the religious and philosophical themes pertinent to the soul and love, humanity and the divine. Psyche's desire for connection, her curiosity, and her eventual reunion with Cupid (and the other gods) suggest a possible route for human connection to the higher powers. Like Lucius, Psyche's curiosity and need for companionship drive her toward peril, but humble service to the gods (even a human-like Venus, overwhelmed with envy for the unsurpassed beauty of Psyche) with acceptance of one's mistakes lead to her salvation. 

Like Heliodorus's Ethiopian Romance, the novel shifts its settings and deals with a variety of trials that Lucius must survive or escape, although there is no Charicleia or female figure he truly loves (Photis was only useful for her sexual services). The intervention of the gods and belief in divine providence abounds in both texts, although the two lovers in Heliodorus's romance are directly linked to two main deities of the Greek pantheon and lack any of the moral flaws of Lucius. Since Lucius is a flawed person with moral shortcomings, his character is more believable and compelling than the star-crossed lovers in the Greek romances. Of course, since Heliodorus and Apuleius were both familiar with the literary heritage of the Greek language, The Golden Ass shares much of the same mythological and literary allusions with the ancient Greek "novels."

 The final book, which tells of Lucius's initiation into the mysteries of Isis and Osiris, presents a shift in tone in the novel as it drops it satirical tone and seems to openly embrace worship of Isis and proper religious behavior. In its embrace of the mysteries and its description of various rituals, this must surely be the world's first occult novel. Like a fable, it calls upon the reader to pursue knowledge in the proper way and practice moderation in sex and curiosity. Lucius, educated though he was, had to endure harrowing experiences as a donkey before he could learn this essential lesson, and find a way out of he morally corrupt world he experienced first-hand as a beast of burden. Much of the details of Lucius's initiation is left unrevealed to the reader, but the novel purports to offer right living and service to the mystery cults as the path to knowledge and success. Instead of the avaricious estate-owners, unchaste wives, effeminate pseudo-priests, violent bandits, abusive centurions, or miserly wealthy who hoard their riches to no purpose, the cult of Isis offers a path away from these ethical dilemmas. 

As an influential text in the history of the Western canon, I could not help but wonder if this novel may have influenced Antoine Innocent's Mimola. The Haitian novel directly links the Vodou loas to the dieux lares of the ancient Mediterranean. Like Lucius, Mimola is afflicted by supernatural means, although in her case it has more to do with the family's rejection of the ancestral spirits. Like Lucius, Mimola and her mother must persevere over the course of a number of trials, culminating in their pilgrimage to Saut d'Eau. Again, like Lucius, Mimola is initiated as a priestess in Vodou and is freed from her affliction. Perhaps any and all similarities between the two novels end here, yet they share a critique of Christianity (the baker's adulterous wife is likely a Christian, while in the Haitian context nationalists of Innocent's era were critical of the Catholic Church's influence). Like Apuleius, Innocent sees the syncretism of "pagan" beliefs and their positive social impact as the basis for community, the city-state. I would like to further explore any possible links between Apuleius and Haitian authors in the future, particularly as it relates to the occult, initiation, and connaissance. Milo Rigaud's Jésus ou Legba? may be the best place to look, especially since Rigaud linked Vodou to ancient Egypt and Nubian religions, of which Isis was a major figure. 

Apuleius

Here is an informative audio format of the Wiki page on Apuleius, the Roman-African author of The Golden Ass. The video covers his origins, his famous trial, the writing of The Golden Ass and Apuleius's larger legacy in the history of Roman literature, philosophy, religion, and the only extant Latin novel.

Dark Princess

W.E.B. Du Bois's Dark Princess is not a great novel. It suffers from awkward, sometimes clunky prose and some rather unbelievable characters in this ideologically fascinating tale. As an example of 1920s Harlem Renaissance literature, however, it shares some of the same interests in black internationalism and protest while oscillating between the masses and the elites as the path forward for human redemption. Telling the tale of a frustrated black medical student, Matthew Towns, and an Indian princess eager to see a free India (and a free world for all the "colored" races), the novel shifts in setting between Berlin, New York, Chicago, and Virginia to weave the story of the love and romance of a black descendant of slaves and an "Eastern" monarch, descendant of the 'Black Buddha'  in a dynasty in Bwodpur, India. In accompaniment to the budding romance between Matthew and Kautilya, Matthew works as a Pullman Porter, politician in the corrupt Chicago machine political system, and as a digger or manual laborer for a subway tunnel. Meanwhile, Kautilya struggles as a laborer in the US and experiences first-hand American racism and class exploitation (although experiences with British racism predated the US variant).

In terms of its pairing of black internationalism with Global South anti-imperialism, the novel fittingly combines an interest in socialist critiques of capitalism with anti-racist fervor and collaboration as the path to a renewed world. African Americans, too, through Matthew, are proof of the pivotal role Black American can play in restructuring world politics to undermine European and American imperialism. Like, say, the Haitian Ray in Claude McKay's Home to Harlem, Kautilya and the various Indian, Arab, Japanese, Chinese, and Egyptian characters who appear in Dark Princess represent the oppressed "colored" races in struggle against European/Euro-American hegemony. For Du Bois, however, the spiritual and political union of non-whites is best encapsulated in the union of Matthew and Kautilya, who, despite coming from different worlds, offer the promise in almost messianic tones of a utopian post-colonial world, symbolized by the birth of Madhu. With Kautilya's praise of Soviet Russia and the anti-imperial, anti-racist coalition of Pan-Asia and Pan-Africa, Du Bois is offering a socialist vision for an ideal future (and before he was an avowed Communist!) that combines his seemingly contradictory elitism and democratic inclinations.

One of the interesting aspects of the novel is the pairing of Eastern, Western, and even African American religion and spirituality. Matthew's rendition of the Negro spiritual, for instance, is awe-inspiring for the Asian, Arab, Indian, and Egyptian attendees of his Berlin meeting with Kautilya (now, the "vulgar blues" in Harlem cabarets, on the other hand, did not appeal to Du Bois). Hindu, Buddhist, and Islamic allusions abound, even suggesting Krishna, Radha, and Kali as representing respectively Matthew, Kautilya, and Matthew's mother. Furthermore, while visiting Matthew's mother, Kautilya experiences some of the African-derived religious influences through references to Shango and "voodoo." Since Du Bois thought so highly of the Negro spiritual and African American spirituality, perhaps African American religion and spiritual expression is tied to the black gift thesis. Perhaps, part of the African American and black contribution to the liberation of Africa and Asia will lie in this moral element, to paraphrase Blyden. However, Du Bois's vision is all-encompassing, including ancient Asian civilizations as well as modern European technology and arts to arrive at their ideal democratic aristocracy. But this is an ecumenical vision with room for Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism and, perhaps, African "traditional" religion.

As a romance involving African Americans and Indians, this Dark Princess is also intriguing as an example of black-Indian relations and literary engagements. South Asians were living in Harlem and marrying black or Puerto Rican women since the 1920s, so Du Bois was perhaps familiar with or knew of Bengali and other South Asians living or working in Harlem. Although most of these South Asians were likely males, Du Bois, may have been inspired by or influenced by actual relationships between South Asians and African Americans in Harlem. The use of India in his romantic imagination, as well as his fanciful construct of a 'Black India' with ancient civilizations and philosophy likely resonated with his own Afrocentric vision of Africa's great past, suggesting a reunion of 'Black India' and Africa as the two wings of a singular bird. For example, Firmin and other black intellectuals before Du Bois also claimed the Buddha as black and imaginatively construed Indian civilizations as part of a wider black history. One also wonders about potential resonances with later literary works involving Black America and India. Ishmael Reed's satire, Conjugating Hindi, similarly offers an alliance between Indians and Black Americans. The film, Mississippi Masala, is even more similar as it involves an Indian woman falling in love with an African American male in the US South. Like the Indian woman in the film, Kautilya faced resistance from her Bwodpur advisers and bodyguards for pursuing Matthew and the American Negro question. 

All in all, Dark Princess is a fascinating and worthwhile read not for its literary value or style. As mentioned previously, it can be awkward and at times read more like a political essay. However, the variety of ideas, themes, and emotions explored across its pages provokes the reader into reconsidering Du Bois as a writer, intellectual, strategist, and man. As an example of interwar literature reflecting "Eastern" characters and ideas, it refreshingly avoids the concept of a utopian India against a decadent West. Du Bois was too sophisticated for that kind of thinking. "Black" Orientalism could not be the same as that of Du Bois's white contemporaries. But in its messianic overtones, the novel is also profoundly spiritual. Maybe, inf one may be so bold, the novel almost predicts a Madhu-like Martin Luther King who will combine the best of the American Negro and that of the "East" (Gandhi, India, nonviolent resistance). 

Afro-Centric

Enjoy an interesting electric jam entitled "Afro-Centric" by Joe Henderson. Considering its epoch, it definitely resonates with the late 1960s and the rising influence of "Afrocentrism" on African Americans of the late 1960s. While certainly funky and a bit ethereal, it does not sound explicitly African" in any overt way. But Herbie Hancock's electric piano noodling is utter delight. 

Angela Davis & Carmen McRae

Enjoy an interesting discussion between Angela Davis and Carmen McRae. Topics discussed include jazz, the influence of McRae's upbringing on her pursuit of a musical career, women in the music, and McRae's songwriting, racism, and the sense of "feeling" in jazz vocals.

Papa Loko

Papa Loko

Ou se van

 Wa pouse'n ale

Nou se papiyon 

Na pote nouvel bay Agwe

Canto de Ossanha

Obsessed with Brazilian music this week, and loving the vocals on this track from Baden Powell's Afro-Sambas. Everything sounds better in Brazilian-accented Portuguese. 

Mood Indigo for Ellis Marsalis

While I am not deeply familiar with Ellis Marsalis or New Orleans jazz after the 1930, his loss was staggering for jazz. I knew his legacy best through his sons, Wynton and Branford. Sure, I disagree with much of Wynton's statements on jazz (the PBS documentary series was, despite some stronger early episodes, a bit of a disaster). However, his father was an early colleague of Ornette Coleman, proof of how open-minded Ellis was about innovators operating outside bop or New Orleans jazz. Indeed, Coleman's association with Ed Blackwell and Ellis Marsalis establishes his ties to the roots of jazz, if you will. 

Na Baixa do Sapateiro

A stripped down rendition of "Bahia" with just vocals and guitar. The sublime. 

Bahia, Gato Style

Like Coltrane's interpretation of Ary Barroso's immortal composition, "Bahia," Gato Barbieri makes it utterly his own. Accompanied by excellent Latin percussionists and berimbau (Nana Vasconcelos?), Barbieri turns this into a jazz freewheeler without losing touch with the Afro-Brazilian "essence." The use of the upper register of his horn does not clash at all with this melodic number. 

The Uncrowned King of Swing: Fletcher Henderson and Big Band Jazz

The Uncrowned King of Swing: Fletcher Henderson and Big Band Jazz is not a biography that I was searching for. Nonetheless, Magee's text is a detailed analysis of Henderson's music across the entirety of his career, stretching from the 1920s "society orchestra" phase to swing. While I have long been a fan of Henderson, this text explains how Henderson the musician and arranger established the template for swing and jazz at its height as popular music (the Kingdom of Swing, a cultural symbol of the New Deal). It would seem that Henderson, and particularly skilled arrangers such as Don Redman, were able to breathe life into stock arrangements, incorporate the soloistic virtuosity of instrumentalists like Louis Armstrong and Coleman Hawkins, and transform jazz through arrangements of Tin Pan Alley and popular tunes for Benny Goodman.

While Henderson himself is often in the background or his involvement with arranging prior to the 1930s is shrouded in some degree of mystery, it is clear that his orchestra coalesced different influences in jazz and popular music of the era to lay the foundation of became known as swing. Louis Armstrong, Don Redman, Benny Carter, Horace Henderson, Leora Henderson were clearly pivotal in the direction of the orchestra, and the number of musicians who were schooled in Henderson proved to be important in the future of the music. Without Don Redman and Fletcher, working collaboratively with excellent musicians, to parody, reinvent, signify, and expand the repertoire of popular song, blues, and jazz with an impeccable swing, the annals of the music's history would look quite different. 

While more details of Henderson's personal life could have shed light on some of his decisions, Magee considers sociological suggestions made by Gunther Schuller and others on the role of class, as well as cultural and ideological factors, in the development of the Henderson "sound." As a product of a "black middle class upbringing", with a respected father in Cuthbert, Georgia as his father, Henderson was a graduate of Atlanta University. College-educated, and reared in the respectability of his background, Henderson learned jazz and blues in New York, where he moved in 1920. His class background, as someone whose formal training in music was classical and church-based, he represents what Gunther Schuller referred to as a shift in jazz as African American musicians with more formal musical training entered the field. Henderson's musical career, analyzed by Magee, is a wonderful example of this trend on a micro-scale as his band's versatility and "symphonic jazz approach" to the blues balanced "hot" and "sweet." Unfortunately, with only the recordings, extant charts, and some personal testimonies, we still lack a full picture of how Henderson electrified live audiences and dancers in legendary clubs and ballrooms of New York...

Radio Rhythm

Another classic from Fletcher Henderson & His Orchestra, 1931. The band's impeccable sense of rhythm and playfulness in interpreting the composition are pure delight. In a live context, perhaps at Connie's Inn up in Harlem, Henderson and the band must have delighted audiences. I'll have to search for more recordings of Billie Holiday's father on guitar, too.