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.