Cosmic Music and Alice Coltrane

Although it took some time to procure a copy through the library, we have finally finished Andy Beta's detailed biography of Alice Coltrane. Entitled Cosmic Music: The Life, Art, and Transcendence of Alice Coltrane, one can already guess the author's approach to her life and music. He tries to balance the spiritual and musical aspects of Coltrane's life, showing much respect for her as Swamini who led an ashram in Agoura Hills. Significantly longer and benefitting from more recently released or reissued recordings of Alice Coltrane's work, Beta's biography is more comprehensive than that of Berkman's earlier study of Coltrane. By adroitly balancing the various aspects of Coltrane's life and showing great respect to her faith, readers understand how the sacred was always part of Alice's aesthetic. Though sometimes leaning toward credulity, one suspects Beta wants the reader to come to their own conclusions about Alice's spiritual transformation and abilities. For examples, see how Beta nonchalantly reports Coltrane's claims to levitate, or astrally project. Or, for instance, her somehow learning Ancient Egyptian for "Er Ra." The biography abounds with examples of Turiya's claims to astral projections, meetings with deceased composers, and karmic healing. This undoubtedly informs the reader of all aspects of her life and work, from Alice's own perspective. He's also effectively demonstrates how the jazz establishment dismissed her for sexist reasons and how Alice went on to shape New Age music, a field for which we must confess a lack of interest.

Naturally, as one can expect in the standard jazz biography, Beta contextualizes Coltrane's work in the larger social, cultural and political spheres of her time. This means highlighting the impact of race and gender on limiting opportunities for African Americans, the context of the Civil Rights Movement and Black Power, and the sexism of the jazz and music industries. Thus, the story begins with Detroit and expands significantly beyond the confines of Alice's own upbringing and church community. Black Detroit, despite the ugly racism of the past, was a vibrant center for music and the arts. Even the schools, less segregated, provided an excellent musical education accessible to black students. This background helps to explain the rise of not only jazz musicians like Alice Coltrane and her older brother, but the eventual ascent to stardom of Motown (also connected to Alice Coltrane through her sister's career as a songwriter). This important historical/cultural context for Black Detroit was unknown to us, mainly the reputation of Detroit jazz artists as excellent musicians in the genre and often becoming major figures of the second half of the last century. Thus, Yusef Lateef, Alice Coltrane, Terry Pollard, and Joseph Henderson were just some of the brilliant players to come out of this musical environment. Beta also emphasizes the role of jazz musicians like Terry Pollard and Dorothy Ashby, also from Detroit, to indicate how female instrumentalists were also renowned in the city. 

The subsequent section of the biography covers Alice's early career as a musician. Despite dreams of Juilliard, she makes a name for herself in Detroit, playing with groups like the Premiers. She also spent time in Paris, meeting with the legendary Bud Powell (whose technique she was said to resemble in her piano style) and hearing Coltrane with Miles Davis at the Olympia. She even toured with Terry Gibbs, being one of the better soloists on his recording of Jewish music. Indeed, one can already detect her eclecticism here since Alice was performing music from bob, African-American spirituals, Jewish, and the jazz traditions. Her time in New York City is mentioned here or there, including the time she spent at a Loft where each morning greeted the musicians with the fresh aroma of flowers. Coltrane even married Hagood, another musician, yet faced the misfortune of his drug addictions and had to raise Michelle on her own. But the next part of her life proved to be more momentous in her musical and personal development. 

Next, Alice meets John. Both were shy, very shy. Alice had already seen him perform in Paris and John's stature in the music was very well established. The two hit it off and Alice eventually married John. Although she did not immediately join the quartet, her conversations with John obviously included their shared passion for music, such as Stravinsky. Over time, as Coltrane's music went further "out," the group fell apart while Alice replaced Tyner as pianist. By this period, Alice's playing was less of the Bud Powell-influenced style she was known for. She was still very much connected to her musical roots, but her shared interest in spiritual jazz, avant-garde music, and alternative religious systems led her and John to create more daring, freer music. One can only wonder how their music would have developed had John lived into the 1970s and 1980s.

Of course, Coltrane tragically died from illness in 1967. After a harrowing time that was likely part mental breakdown, part spiritual awakening, Alice recovered and established herself as the bearer of John's legacy whilst continuing her own musical voice. This growing interest in Hinduism and what might be seen as New Age thinking was part of a broader current in the United States at the time. Fortunately, Beta does highlight this, even mentioning how Alice Coltrane met and worked with Laura Nyro and others interested in Eastern religion and philosophy at the time. Other jazz musicians likewise explored Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, or their own Afrocentric mythologies, like Sun Ra. Sun Ra is mentioned by name here for being one of the influences on John's interests in esoterica. It's perhaps under-analyzed here how Alice Coltrane's ascent to guru is part of a Black counterculture, with all the limitations and problems of the larger phenomenon of the 1960s and 1970s.

Now paired with her Hindu-inspired spiritual awakening and harp playing, Alice's music was polarizing for the jazz establishment. Perhaps aiming for low-hanging fruit, Beta occasionally quotes and eviscerates sexist jazz critics who naively dismissed Alice's albums or "tainted" the last recordings of Coltrane by overdubbing strings or her own music. Some of this music is sheer beauty and cosmic delight, like World Galaxy, and was recorded with excellent jazz artists like Pharoah Sanders, Charlie Haden or Rashied Ali. In more recent times, musicians and critics have finally recognized the brilliance of Alice's music, both the secular and her unique recordings of bhajans accompanied by the singing of her students. Alice has finally received the recognition she was due, and not just as the wife of John Coltrane. One can only hope more female jazz instrumentalists receive the recognition they are due instead of being ignored or reduced to their relationship with more famous men.

Overall, this was a very readable, accessible, and entertaining biography. Our interest in Alice Coltrane as a guru or spiritual leader remains slight, but Beta successfully balances this aspect of her career with her earlier life. Indeed, his interviews with members of Coltrane's ashram as well as various producers, musicians, and family members who knew her well reveal how deeply researched this book is. And, as he makes abundantly clear in how Alice Coltrane was always performing or playing music after the end of her contract with Warner, members of the public could even visit her center on Sundays for rousing performances of bhajans. Music was constantly in the home, too. Still, it is a travesty that some of her recordings from studio dates or live performances have been lost, as well as much of the television material she created. Beta's biography fills in as much of the gap as possible, highlighting as always her dedication to music's sacred dimensions. Indeed, her son, Ravi, appears to have maintained some of this aura. At a concert we attended, of which the audience was at least a quarter Indian or South Asian, and performed in a church, one could feel the "cosmic" and divine. Therefore, the Coltrane legacy (both John and Alice) lives on in the music of Ravi and many others, both jazz or non-jazz artists, who imbue a "cosmic" dimension to their work. Unsurprisingly, we have been inspired to explore all of Coltrane's recorded works now. We have moved beyond our youthful dismissal of her music after the early 1970s and can appreciate the beauty of her bhajans.

Black Crown

Paul Clammer's Black Crown: Henry Christophe, the Haitian Revolution and the Caribbean's Forgotten Kingdom is a meticulously researched biography of one of the central figures in the annals of the Haitian Revolution and 19th century Haiti. Based on a mixture of all available sources, Clammer, who has written travel literature on Haiti, has consulted archives, visited the sites associated with Christophe's state, and used European, Haitian, and US sources to reconstruct the life of Christophe. As one might expect, his early origins in Grenada remain shrouded in mystery. Even his participation in the struggle for US independence remains a mystery. However, Christophe, once in Le Cap, was able to establish himself and build connections. During the Haitian Revolution, he rose to positions of ever greater importance until he became one of the upper echelon of military officials under Toussaint Louverture. Joining with Dessalines, he fought for Haitian independence against Leclerc and Rochambeau. Clammer, based on surviving correspondence of Christophe and other sources, favors the argument that Christophe was not directly involved in the assassination of Dessalines, and once the deed was done, was positioning himself strategically. The conflict with Petion and the South subsequently divided Haiti into two separate states, with Christophe as the essentially uncontested leader in the Nord. By the time he declared himself king, Christophe had neutralized potential competitors (even doing so during the Haitian Revolution against maroon leader Sans Souci and others).

The most interesting chapters of the biography cover the reign of Christophe as king. Ruling the Kingdom of Haiti, Christophe sponsored the construction of beautiful palaces like Sans Souci, promoted plantation agriculture, instituted legal codes that at least, in theory, guaranteed certain rights for cultivators, and engaged in all the theatricality of power and magnificence to present an image of Haiti as a civilized land making progress for Western audiences. Clammer's deftly written and detailed accounts of Christophe's diplomatic engagements with Britain and Europe on the one hand, and the struggles he engaged with against his own subjects and the republic to the South, make for engaging and fascinating reading. Unfortunately, the surviving source are not as rich as one would like for understanding a more complete portrait of the kingdom. Surviving ledgers give tantalizing clues about sugar and coffee production, with the state-enforced plantation system falling behind on sugar. Indeed, near the end of his reign, Christophe began distributing land to soldiers, perhaps as many as 8000 in one letter cited by Clammer. However, the vast majority of the land grants were for tiny farms, although Christophe did appear to have engaged in broadening land ownership and creating more titled nobles. Sadly, Christophe was unable to suppress a revolt that began in Saint-Marc and was supported by Jean-Pierre Richard, an African-born leader of Cap Henry who had been imprisoned by Christophe at the Citadel and forced to do hard labor. 

Since his stroke appears to have inspired malcontents and rebels to take action, and once loyal subordinates chose to do nothing or join in the rebellion, Christophe knew his end was near. The black king who sought to create a strong nation, was overthrown. The North was reunified with the rest of the country and Haiti as we know was consolidated. The Christophe experiment, however, represented the last of the revolutionary era leadership who were at least somewhat successful at maintaining export-oriented plantation agriculture. Christophe's state, which sparked resistance from local cultivators (though his frequent tours of the countryside and audiences suggests he must have at least occasionally ensured the Code Henry's protections for workers were respected), represented another path for national development. More successful than the southern republic, at least for a short while, the Christophean experiment offers us a view of what Haiti could have become had Christophe been able to balance the desires of the rural majority and perhaps had not treated some of his own subordinates so harshly or capriciously. 

Sword of Truth: The Life and Times of the Shehu Usuman dan Fodio

Mervyn Hiskett's Sword of Truth is a short biography of Uthman dan Fodio, the reformer and leader whose movement revolutionized Hausaland and much of today's northern Nigeria in the 19th century. Although the full history of the Sokoto Caliphate is not the main topic of Hiskett's monograph, a biography of its foundational figure is important for establishing the theological, intellectual, cultural, and political contexts of its origins. Beginning with an overview of Uthman dan Fodio's origins in a scholarly Fulani Muslim community and the larger world it was a part of, the reader is taken on a journey into the late 18th century landscape of Hausaland. Although one wonders if more recent scholarship has added more nuance to the question of "mixed Islam" and the relationship of Islamic scholars with the Habe ruling courts of the Hausa states, Hiskett's biography suggests a number of causes for the outbreak of the jihad. For instance, tensions between Fulani nomads and Hausa chiefs, the global currents of Islamic intellectual thought (though, according to Hiskett, the Shehu was not a fundamentalist or a devotee of Shaik Jibril b.Umar's iconoclasm), Hausa political corruption and abuse, arbitrary enslavement, and the Shehu's belief in his own divinely sanctioned position as a renewer of the faith. Indeed, to prepare the way for the Mahdi, the Shehu felt compelled to lead what eventually became a militant movement against the rulers of Gobir and other states for their adherence to "paganism" (or tolerance of it) and restrictions on orthodox Islam. 

While the biography of Uthman dan Fodio is revealing of intellectual and religious thought in the Central Sudan during his era, Hiskett's sources are mainly from the Shehu or his family and supporters. This inherent bias does place limitations on his general narrative of the Shehu's career. The perspective of the Gobirawa dynasty, for instance, has to be gleamed from the pro-jihad sources Hiskett relies on. With the exception of the correspondence with al-Kanemi of Borno, one finds little, at least in terms of Central Sudan's Muslim intellectuals, of the regional scholars opposed to the jihad. Perhaps recent scholarship, with access to more Arabic (or Hausa) manuscripts from the pre-jihad era, can shed fuller light on the array of opinion and intellectual climate within the region and the relationship of the scholars to issues of reform, ulama-state relations, and, eventually, Uthman dan Fodio. 

Nonetheless, there is much insight in Hiskett's biography and use of local Hausa sources (in Arabic and Hausa), particularly as they shed light on the transformation of the Sokoto Caliphate and the ideal state based on Sharia the Shehu and his followers sought to establish. For instance, Hiskett argues that the Shehu accepted ijma and was a devout Sufi, therefore disqualifying him from classification as a fundamentalist or Wahhabi-influenced. The gradual readoption or return to Hausa political titles in the Sokoto Caliphate, for example, or accusations of corruption and greed against political officials in it also harkened back to pre-jihad political problems of the Hausa states. While the Shehu sought to, through his brother Abdullah b. Muhammad and son, Muhammad Bello, to lay the foundations for a state closer to their Islamic ideal, the Sokoto Caliphate fell short of its initial goals. However, it further entrenched the importance and spread of Islam in the area through uniting most of the Hausa areas into a state based, in theory, on Islamic law and the prominent role of scholars. Through the encouragement of local writing in Hausa and Fulfulde on Islamic themes, the Shehu and his followers undoubtedly played a pivotal role in strengthening northern Nigeria's Islamic identity and orientation. 

The Savior of Bornu

 

J.R. Milsome's biography of Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi, El-Kanemi: the Savior of Bornu, was written for children within the first decade of Nigerian independence. Keeping those two facts in mind, it can excuse this biography somewhat. After all, would Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi have cared for Borno to be a part of the Nigerian nation? Does it really make any sense to consider him one of the makers of Nigeria? Only in the sense of promoting Nigerian unity after independence does this biography make even a little sense. As a book for children, Milsome was also able to take certain liberties and not cite any sources. Instead, he can create dialogue to add additional dialogue, details, or characterization to the the life of al-Kanemi. 

Unfortunately, Milsome gets some of the facts wrong and this book is far less useful than that of Brenner for a comprehensive biography of al-Kanemi. For instance, Milsome incorrectly labels al-Kanemi's Fazzani mother as a woman from Tripolitania. He also mentions Egypt as one of the places where al-Kanemi studied for years as a child. This could be true, but more reputable sources mention Tripoli. Furthermore, some of the most interesting episodes in al-Kanemi's political career are excluded. His early marriage to a local chief or ruler's daughter in the town he resided in before being called by the Sayfawas to liberate Gazargamo is omitted from this biography. Neither is al-Kanemi's frustrated ambitions to permanently reconquer Kanem or his "troubled" relations with Yusuf Qaramanli and the Fazzani appear. Nor, for that matter, did the tale of the disastrous Mandara expedition appear in Milsome's biography. 

The errors and omissions in this biography are rather shameful. Young adult readers could benefit from a more critical biography that contextualizes the life of al-Kanemi in a period of political and spiritual transformation in West Africa and the realpolitik of statecraft in the Central Sudan. It could also have, perhaps, through the eventual peace between Sokoto and Borno, been used to promote a model of Northern Nigerian coexistence or harmony. Nonetheless, the creative illustrations are a nice touch, even if the depictions of al-Kanemi do not match those found in Denham, Clapperton and Oudney.

Madiou's Autobiographie

Although our initial interest in Thomas Madiou's Autobiographie was due to a rather obscure topic related to his genealogy, we are glad to have finally read the full text. His Histoire d'Haiti series is something we have of course tackled, but find it difficult to fully read in PDF form (one day, perhaps, we shall purchase the whole series). His Autobiographie supplements his historical writing with personal details and accounts of his life, serving in various governments from Boyer to Domingue. Unfortunately, the book ends with letters to his son on the rise of Salomon. The editors also omitted some of the familial details of the early section and in the letters to Madiou's son in France. Those minor issues aside, the Autobiographie covers years his Histoire series does not. They also, despite Madiou's own biases, offer an insider perspective to the world of the 19th century Haitian statesman and intellectual. One may disagree with his interpretations and dislike his biases which reflect his own elite background and connections, but Madiou remains an indispensable source.

After reading Madiou's autobiography, one cannot help but feel somewhat depressed. More than a century after Madiou's death, Haiti remains trapped in the same cycles of political turmoil, corruption, unconstitutional rulers, crises over succession, and a brutal, morally repugnant oligarchy eagerly aided by certain malefactors and international interests. Even in Madiou's time, Haitian rulers often acted arbitrarily and would violate constitutions to serve their own interests. For example, Madiou had to intervene to stop Michel Domingue from executing one man without charge or trial, which raised the ugly issue of the color question since the man Madiou intervened to save was a "mulatto." In another even more disturbing case, involving an order calling for the execution of a group suspected of cannibalism in Petit-Harpon, Madiou similarly intervened to ensure the peasant leader was properly charged. Madiou also mentioned numerous instances of Haitian presidents ruling arbitrarily or the general corruption and lack of morals among the political class. The continual in-fighting of different cliques and factions among those holding political power could remove some of the most progressive forces in Haiti, too. The sad case of Francisque in the Soulouque administration exemplifies this, as Delva turned the emperor against a bright noir. 

Indeed, if Madiou is reliable, governments like that of Soulouque reflected serious moral or ethical decline among those holding political office. As the elites who were supposed to model proper morality and prepare the path for the illiterate Haitian masses to become "civilized" or Westernized, they utterly failed to escape the legacy of the colonial masters and Guinean (African) despotism. Perhaps due to his own French education and perceptions of African backwardness, progress for Haiti could come through Europe and people of mixed-race origins who were more likely to possess a Western education and outlook than the Haitian peasantry. Vodou, allegedly linked to (rare) cannibalistic rituals and backwards African customs, was an additional impediment to Haitian development. Madiou discussed it in a similar light in his other published work, almost repeating verbatim his past arguments about the lack of proper social groups in a country which lacked cohesion. Somehow we are supposed to believe the Haitian even lacks the sense of family, perpetually reproducing the negative models of Saint Domingue and Africa. Madiou's own biases and class background were perhaps too strong for him to have developed a more nuanced view of the Haitian lower classes. Nonetheless, he correctly identified them as the victims of a rapacious oligarchy that exploited the nation. The Haitian peasant was the sole productive member of Haitian society, they just required proper guidance and a constitution aligned with the moeurs and development of the society. 

Unfortunately, the legacy of caste and racial divisions persisted across the 19th century as noirs and so-called mulattoes, according to Madiou, clashed. After 1843, the separation of the two "castes" allegedly became more severe as "mulattoes" began to abandon their estates and focused more on urban-based sources of wealth and status. For someone like Madiou, assuming he really did believe the Western-educated Haitian jaunes represented a civilizing vector, this intractable legacy of caste and the exploitation of it by certain noirs must have been another factor in his bitterness or pessimism. Madiou seems even more blunt about the reality of caste in Haiti here than in the Histoire. While is does not explain every conflict in Haitian social or political history, there is no doubt it was an ever-salient factor. Indeed, if Madiou is to be trusted, it could become a matter of life and death. The role of class, naturally, informs this. The difference between piquets and cacos, for instance, could be partly seen through the class origins of those leading them. The urban working class support for Salnave likewise shows the complexity of social class and color. Yet Madiou's insistence on color as a factor cannot be dismissed since he, unlike Nicholls, actually lived in 19th century Haiti.

Through it all, Madiou himself suffered throughout the periodic crises and sequestrations of goods belonging to statesmen or ex-ministers whose governments were overthrown. In spite of this,, he continued to serve in various administrations and, according to his autobiography, sought to resist the Catholic Church's violations of the Concordat while promoting education across the country. Perhaps Madiou's standing, family connections, and reputation made him attractive to every Haitian head of state who could recognize talent, albeit one they sometimes abused or, after revolutions and coups, threatened or exiled. His talents as a diplomat for Haiti in Europe appear to have played a major role in assuaging tensions with Spain during the War of Restoration in the Dominican Republic. He appears to have been a dedicated statesman invariably interested in serving a nation that repeatedly disappointed him. Sadly, some of his worst predictions have come true. He foresaw the eventual US Occupation as well as the fragmentation or collapse of the state. The numerous transitional governments, squabbling coalitions, appointed/selected presidents and inability to build consensus are still here. The uncertainty of Nissage Saget actually stepping down when his term came to an end brings to mind Moise. The assassination of Septimus Rameau, of course, reminds one of Moise. Regrettably, not much has changed since Madiou's time...except it's even worse today. 

The Autobiography of Nicholas Said and Ambivalent Modernity

Said, via Wikipedia

Nicholas Said's relatively short autobiography is one of the most interesting textual sources produced by a native of Borno. The author of this slave narrative was kidnapped by Tuaregs and sold into slavery in North Africa. From Tripoli, Said accompanied a Turkish master who ran a tobacco shop, on the pilgrimage to Mecca. Along the way, Said traveled to Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, today's Saudi Arabia, Somalia, and Muscat. One almost wishes he told us more about the Ethiopian traders he met in Khartoum, or about the African pilgrims en route to Mecca in Sudan and Ethiopia. Alas, that was not his focus, but it would have been interesting if he met others from Borno in Sudan and Ethiopia. After his master's shop is burned down (with half of Tripoli's Turkish bazaar), our protagonist is sent to Izmir, where he is sold to a politically connected Turk who then takes him to Constantinople. After brushing shoulders with the cosmopolitan elites of Constantinople, he is acquired by a Russian diplomat and aristocrat who takes him to the Russian Empire. 

Via travels with a Russian employer, he traverses Europe, experiencing all the aesthetic, technological, and cultural advances of mid-19th century West. Eventually, when in London and planning a return to Borno, a Dutch client offers him employment for an extended trip to North America and the Caribbean. Visiting US cities, the Bahamas, Haiti, and Jamaica, Said and his employer return to the US and Canada, where Said is abandoned after loaning his boss funds. Stranded in Canada, he is encouraged to go to Buffalo, New York, where there are more "colored" people. Thus began Said's experiences in the US on a permanent basis. Perhaps due to the delicate post-Civil War conditions in the US South, Said does not disclose his service in the Union Army. One is also struck by the number of elite or royal people Said claims to have met or served, including receiving a gift from the Czar Nicholas I. One almost senses in this a Kanuri cultural practice of dependents seeking wealthy or powerful men as patrons, and perhaps Said's namedropping was a reflection of that. Or perhaps it served as a counter to US racism, as a "black" man, though in a servile position, was valued and respected by cosmopolitan European elites and experienced little to no racial prejudice. One can sense some tensions, perhaps tied to his race, with European domestics in Russia, and we can be sure there was a lot more that happened to Said in Europe or Turkey than he's willing to admit. Alternatively, Said may have looked to the famous "Negro" of Peter the Great as a model for refashioning his life in the Russian Empire.

So, what does Nicholas Said's biography tell us about Borno and the experience of Borno's peoples in the modern world? First, Said himself represents Borno as a political project encompassing a variety of ethnic groups, including the Kanuri, Shuwa, Kanembu, and, in the case of Said, "Mandra" (Mandara) and Molgoy. Molgoy were a people whose ruling chief accepted a tributary relationship with Borno under Mai Barnoma. Said's mother, Dalla, was the daughter of a Mandra chief. Yet despite these non-Kanuri origins, Said seems to identify wholeheartedly with Borno and refers to the Borno or Kanuri language as his vernacular. Perhaps this a reflection of his father's military service under Shehu al-Kanemi, which meant Said grew up in Kukawa, the capital, and socialized with a son of Shehu Omar. Either way, this is an interesting example of how multiethnic the empire of Borno was, and to what extent people from "pagan" tributary or vassal states in the region could ascend the ranks of the military and social status. 

After all, Mohammad Ali ben Said was the son of Barca Gana, a famous general who defended Borno against the Fulani, Bagirmi, Wadai, and other enemies or raiders. Indeed, it was presumably through his father's prominence and connections with al-Kanemi and his successor that Said was sent for schooling to Malam Katory, a reputed scholar described as being well-versed in Arabic, Persian, and Turkish. Presumably having such a respectable teacher in Arabic was expected for people of elite origins in Borno. Moreover, it was open to people who were not of Kanuri, Kanembu, or Shuwa origins, though Said clearly thought the Kanuri were the ruling class or caste and not above oppressing Shuwa, Kanembu, or other groups.

After establishing how internally diverse and dynamic Borno society was in the 19th century, it's important to consider Said as a native of Borno in the volatile 19th century world, experiencing steamships, railroads, European architecture and science. There is a long-running, underlying current of racial uplift in Said's autobiography, perhaps acquired from his experience in the US with African-Americans and whites. In his own manner, he attacks the argument of African inferiority, while implicitly casting Africans as primitive and the "race" as one in need of elevation through education and uplift. This is the basis for sensing some ambivalence in Said's experience of 'modernity' and tradition, one in which he can praise aspects of Borno and the Ottoman Turks while cursing African Islam as retrograde. Indeed, in Said's retelling of Borno's past and the history of African achievements in technology and handicrafts, he seems to think the palace ruins at Gambaru and Ngazargamu were the achievements of pre-Islamic Borno. Consequently, one can sense an ambivalence in Said's autobiography in terms of religion and race in a changing world. Thus, he can praise the example of the Haitian Revolution as an achievement for our race while wishing Haiti remained colony.

Experiencing the trans-Saharan slave trade first-hand, and 2 distinct but connected routes that carried him from Tripoli to Mecca and back), it is fascinating to see how someone who was reared Muslim and received an Islamic education for at least 2 years struggled with Islam. After baptism in Riga, at the pressure of his Russian aristocratic employer, Said appears to have gradually adopted more severe and dismissive attitudes to Islam. The religion of his homeland, indeed, is blamed for bringing destruction, fanaticism, and slave raiding. Since his audience for the autobiography consisted of Christian Americans in the 19h century, perhaps one can see Said embellishing or exaggerating his religious sentiments or identity. Yet he could have been sincere in those beliefs, and struggled to make sense of the "contest" between Christianity and Islam, the former better for Africa (and the "race"). In this light, it is interesting to compare Said with Edward Blyden. Unlike Blyden, who was not a product of an Islamic West African society, Said presented himself as a Christian who rejects Islam's influence in the continent. Blyden, on the other hand, saw Islam as preparing Africa for eventual Christianization, and in the meantime, promoting education and moderation for moral uplift. Like Said, Blyden did not truck with "fetishism" but both claimed to be for the race. Both also saw in the "mulatto" an implacable obstacle to countries like Haiti. How is it that two men with extensive traveling and education, both in favor of improving the "race," develop ambivalent attitudes toward Africa in the modern world while stressing the benefits of opposing religions? And what does this suggest for the role of Borno in the larger theme of Islam and modern Africa?

Black Spartacus

I recently perused Sudhir Hazareesingh's Toussaint Louverture book and found it very worthwhile. It is a welcome change from some of the more reactionary and questionable interpretations of Toussaint Louverture, as Hazareesingh seems to be more aligned with C.L.R. James. Of course, like many liberals, Hazareesingh seems most comfortable when stressing the revolutionary republicanism of Toussaint, particularly its promise of a multiracial fraternity that never really or deeply materialized. To his credit, he also stresses the various African and Creole (or "Caribbean") elements in Toussaint Louverture's politics, kinship practices, spirituality, and social relations, so he cannot really be accused of overly Westernizing Toussaint. However, one could do without the unfounded claims of "Amerindian" influences on Haitian Vodou. Perhaps the growing contradiction between the masses of ex-slaves and Toussaint's emerging elite could have also been more worthy of scrutiny, even though external threats probably made it increasingly difficult for the revolutionary leadership to imagine a world of peasant proprietorship. But overall a fine synthesis of the latest scholarship on the Haitian Revolution and provocative work on the legacy of Toussaint Louverture for Haiti and the rest of humanity. 

Having Our Say: The Delany Sisters' First 100 Years

Reading the biography of the two centenarian aunts of Samuel R. Delany was a completely charming experience. Told in their voice to Amy Hill Hearth, their wisdom, experience and life stories across over a century of life in the US was simultaneously uplifting, challenging, heart-warming, and amusing. Born the children of a former slave and a free black woman of mixed-race origins, the Delany sisters lived through everything from Jim Crow to WWII, from the Civil Rights Movement to the AIDS crisis. Their experience as pioneers in the history of New York City, and the prominent place their respected family held in Harlem during the 1920s and 1930s exemplified the ways in which class and status among African Americans operated. But the "lift as we climb" ethos of their family and the fiery attitudes they display on the condition of African Americans past, present, and future manage to convey something of the great dignity of an oppressed people. Even when recounting humiliating or dangerous encounters with "rebby" white racists, the Klan, or bigoted neighbors, Bessie and Sadie come out of it as confident, assured, and proud. 

Moreover, despite their famous science fiction writer nephew never appearing by name in the text, one cannot help but feel that Delany the writer and the person is a bit more understandable. The family history of the Delanys, the very recent past of slavery, and their struggles to gain an education and enter the professions must have inspired Samuel R. Delany. While I know nothing about his mother's family, there is something quite inspirational and uplifting about the family narrative of his Delany forebears. Moreover, it helps explain why he was attracted to literature, writing and intellectual pursuits, as his grandfather was not only a bishop but a teacher. One of his aunts was a teacher, and his other was one of the early black woman dentists in New York City. His uncles included lawyers, dentists, doctors, and other educated people with connections to the NAACP and well-known black historical figures. Clearly, Delany only had to look to his own family past to see the themes of slavery, segregation and uplift whilst struggling in a racist, unequal society. It's somehow mind-boggling to think that he only had to look to his grandfather to see the history of slavery in America. One of these days, I'll have to read Delany's nonfiction to see what he has to say about his past in light of the biography of Bessie and Sadie. 

Eubie Blake

Al Rose's biography of composer and pianist Eubie Blake is not great. It's perhaps too short and clearly written by someone who lacks objectivity when ranking the works of Blake. Moreover, Rose is at times condescending in tone when describing African Americans (perhaps a reflection of his times and upbringing?). Nevertheless, this is a very useful read for anyone interested in the life and times of Eubie Blake, who lived long enough to experience early ragtime and jazz while also participating in the ragtime revival of the second half of the 20th century. Covering his life from his birth to formerly enslaved parents in Baltimore, Rose chronicles, often in the voice of Blake himself, his development as a pianist and composer in ragtime and popular music venues to his renewed status as an elder statesman of ragtime in the 1970s.

For someone primarily interested in jazz and its history, Blake's career is perhaps more accurately seen as one of the early ingredients of jazz. Reflecting vaudeville (including his early partnership days with Noble Sissle), ragtime piano, and black musical theater in NYC, Blake's music contains jazz elements and some of his compositions themselves became standards ("Memories of You"). However, Blake himself, despite his repute as a pianist since the early 1900s, and his influence on younger musicians like James P. Johnson, was perhaps more akin to James Reese Europe and Wilbur Sweatman. Like those other early jazz pioneers, his music straddled pre-jazz ragtime, musical theater, and vaudeville while keeping up with the new sounds of jazz and blues by the late 1910s and 1920s. But Eubie doesn't quite fit in with the stride pianists like James P. Johnson or Willie the Lion Smith, despite sharing their penchant for improvisation. Perhaps, since most of Blake's recorded music consisted of rags or recordings featuring the vocals of Noble Sissle, I detect more the influence of showtunes and vaudeville (with the occasional nod to blues, jazz or the Negro spiritual).

In spite of this, Blake is certainly a key figure in the history of ragtime and jazz. His musical partnerships with James Reese Europe and Noble Sissle were also significant for the development of black music in New York. Through the Clef Club, they helped organize and professionalize black music. Through musicals like Shuffle Along and their vaudeville performances, Blake and Sissle created music that did not depend on blackface or the most pernicious racial stereotypes (think of some of the unforgettable love songs from their collaboration). The indignities Blake had to endure to make it the entertainment industry are shocking nowadays, but it is thanks to musicians like Blake and James Reese Europe that African Americans in entertainment could surpass some of the limitations of a Jim Crow musical industry. Blake, as the son of former slaves, certainly lived long enough to witness the transformations in the lives of African Americans. Undoubtedly, this process is mirrored in our music.

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...

Swing Along: The Musical Life of Will Marion Cook

Although Marva Griffin Carter's biography of Will Marion Cook is too short, it is required reading for a study of one of the most pivotal figures in the prehistory of jazz music. Admittedly, I only knew of Will Marion Cook in passing through his son's reputation as one of the translators of Jacques Roumain's magnum opus, but his name is frequently mentioned in the context of African American music of the pre-jazz era. Undoubtedly, Cook's talents as a composer for black musical theater in the 1890s and 1900s helped pave the way forward for jazz by opening doors to black musicians in New York City.

The Southern Syncopated Orchestra, unfortunately, was never recorded. But if arrangements from that Cook orchestra are ever located, it would be interesting to see in what ways it was a precursor to big band jazz. We know that Cook, like Europe, wanted to develop a uniquely African American musical aesthetic, which featured aspects of ragtime and proto-jazz. The number of jazz musicians who went on to leave a significant mark in the genre are plentiful, including Duke Ellington who perhaps best encapsulated Cook's desire to combine elements of highbrow and lowbrow musical expressions into a new aesthetic reflecting "racial" consciousness.

Wilbur C. Sweatman and Early Jazz

After reading Mark Berresford's That’s got ’Em! : the life and music of Wilbur C. Sweatman, one can see more clearly the significance of Sweatman in the rise of jazz music. As a transitional figure whose life encompassed all the 19th and early 20th century musical forms that contributed to jazz, Sweatman, like James Reese Europe, is a perfect figure to study for understanding the transition to jazz and blues in the late 1910s and 1920s. In the case of Sweatman, Berresford emphasizes his past in minstrel, vaudeville, and circus or tent show performances. It also seems very reasonable to agree with the author that the rise of jazz could never be understood solely as a New Orleans phenomenon. Last, but certainly not least, one can see the centrality of ragtime as a musical genre that laid the foundation for the musical changes occurring in the first two decades of the 1900s. 

Further, it would seem that appearance of blues and jazz and the rise of African American popular music in the 20th century owes far more to minstrel, vaudeville, and ragtime-influenced tours that created conditions for African Americans to travel across the continent and exchange musical ideas. P.G. Lowery's group, or Sweatman's later career on the vaudeville circuit, or Chicago's South State Street black cabarets created a propitious climate for the exchange of musical ideas. All these aforementioned aspects of African American music would go on to make Sweatman a pivotal figure in early jazz. His unique clarinet style also included early jazz phrasing, particularly on his recording of "Down Home Rag" for Emerson. His singular sound on clarinet and "hot" style almost makes it plausible that he was playing "jazz" as early as his Chicago years. It also explains why Columbia and Pathé were drawn to Sweatman, who already had an established reputation, for a black jazz band to catch up to the jazz craze. 

Berresford's text, while full of informative details pertinent to recordings and tour dates, can be a tedious read. Ultimately, this study is limited by the loss of Sweatman's autobiographical notes and countless papers and records of his and Scott Joplin that would have shed so much light on ragtime and early jazz. Nonetheless, Berresford's biography convincingly demonstrates the significance of Sweatman in the history of jazz. Several prominent jazz musicians of the 1920s and 1930s were once associates or former sidemen of Sweatman, whose business acumen, showmanship, and experience impacted luminaries such as Duke Ellington and Jimmie Lunceford. Berresford's study also speaks to the theme of racial integration in jazz and popular music, an area in which Sweatman was a pioneer. 

What is required now is a detailed study of Sweatman's recordings, though Berresford nicely contextualizes the limitations of recording technology, Columbia's control on material, and the competing influence of the New Orleans polyphonic sound versus the large New York syncopated orchestras of the 1910s. One would also have liked to learn more about the relationship between Joplin and Sweatman, and, if possible, any reasons why Sweatman never joined the Clef Club or Tempo Club. What did Sweatman think of "jazz" and ragtime in the context of the "race" and its place in the development of black music? Unless someone locates the lost papers of Sweatman, perhaps we shall never know. 

Clifford Brown: The Life and Art of the Legendary Jazz Trumpeter

Nick Catalano's biography of Clifford Brown: The Life and Art of the Legendary Jazz Trumpeter is the only one we have for the legendary jazz trumpeter. Unfortunately, it is not a great one. The first half of the book is a "straight" biography focusing on Brown's family background in Delaware, the tightly-knit world of segregated black Wilmington, and his early musical influences. Then, for the remainder of his short life, the rest of the biography becomes a list of recording dates and performances, replete with the author's preferences and commentary. The first half is quite interesting and contextualizes the background of Brown in Wilmington's black east side. The second half is mainly useful for commentary on Brown's discography and data gleamed from friends and family of Brown to fill in some of the gaps between recording sessions or performance dates across the Northeast and Midwest.

The main utility of the text, however, is some of the details if provides on the career of the relatively straight-laced Brown, particularly the illustrious Clifford Brown-Max Roach Quintet. Catalano adequately covers the influence of Fats Navarro, Brown's distinct technique, and the state of bop in the northeast, particularly Philadelphia's importance as a major city near enough to New York with supportive audiences for innovative jazz musicians. The significance of California in the emergence of the quintet of Brown and Roach was also news to me, again suggesting the importance of the West Coast jazz scene in pushing the music in new directions. Indeed, Eric Dolphy's friend, Harold Land, was key for the sound for the quintet, which then headed to the East Coast to great acclaim. 

However, the hectic touring schedule and limitation of jazz to small clubs in the 1950s clearly emerges as a factor in the political economy of the music. Threatened by the rise of R&B and rock, limited to smaller venues and, as musicians often seen as lesser than their classical counterparts, jazz musicians were "Jim Crowed" in the club scene. This is relevant to Brown since constant touring for small combos required zigzagging across the Northeast and Midwest, increasing the chances for a car accident that eventually ended his life. Thus, in spite of all the critical praise for Brown as a unique force in jazz, he too could not escape the confines imposed on jazz artists.

Thelonious Monk: American Composer

Here is an interesting documentary on the life and music of Thelonious Monk. It features his son, sister, Randy Weston, Billy Taylor and others who knew Monk and jazz best discussing his legacy, stride influences on his piano style, and his personality. Although Kelley's biography includes some real sleuthing to uncover previously unknown aspects of Monk's background and life, this documentary is more immediate and heart-felt than the book through direct testimonies. Kelley's book should still be read, however, for the greater context it gives of San Juan Hill, North Carolina, and the jazz scene at large. 

James P. Johnson: A Case of Mistaken Identity

Scott E. Brown's biography of James P. Johnson is, to my understanding, the only book-length study of the life and music of the stride pianist. Due to my interest in early jazz and, increasingly, ragtime, I decided to read it to learn more about Johnson's place in the history of jazz. Brown's biography emerged from a student thesis, which can be clearly discerned. However, the provocative title is warranted because Brown's study illustrates many of the innovative and important features of Johnson's music on jazz and black music. Through his influence on Fats Waller, his composing of "serious music" drawing on African American spirituals and blues, and later generations of jazz pianists adapting the stride style, such as Thelonious Monk and Jaki Byard, Johnson's legacy in jazz is large and multifaceted.

As an active participant in the musical scene of New York in the 1910s and 1920s, Johnson witnessed the transformation of ragtime piano and the development of early jazz. Ragtime musicians in New York and New Jersey were, by the time young Johnson began playing in saloons, "ragging" popular tunes and engaging in "cutting contests." The Clef Club's emergence led to better gigs for black musicians and their refined mannerisms were, according to Brown, emulated by Johnson's generation. However, the older Clef Club musicians were not eager to embrace the blues or the polyphony of New Orleans jazz, so the younger artists like Johnson were the ones to channel the blues scale, blue notes, and vocalization to their instruments.

Indeed, the strong influence of black southern folk music and traditions, like the "shout," also help explain the emergence of stride as a distinct piano style from ragtime. The ringshout and similar black southern dances, rooted in the religious musical culture of black slaves and their descendants, transferred to secular expression after Emancipation. The "shout" was witnessed by a young Johnson in the dances held by his parents, and the riffs of stride were based on the rhythmic variations of shout dances. Johnson wasn't alone in attributing the origins of stride to the shout dances brought from the south by black southerners. His friend, Willie the Lion Smith, also noted the influence of the shout dances on stride piano, which, especially in its rhythmic riffing and blues influences, is more jazz than ragtime. 

Besides his ingenious stride piano style and songwriting for black musical theater, what most distinguishes Johnson is his desire to compose "serious" music drawing on the Western classical tradition. In Yamekraw, his Negro rhapsody, or The Organizer-A Blues Opera, a collaboration with Langston Hughes, Johnson drew on the blues, spirituals, and black folk material for classical works. Indeed, he knew Gershwin and likely understood the sources of black folk music better than the latter, although none of his symphonies were as successful as Gershwin's. Just as Joplin's opera, Treemonisha, was steeped in black folk music elements, Johnson endeavored to pursue a similar goal of fusing the "high" art of classical forms with black folkloric and blues roots, something many Harlem Renaissance critics and literary figures were hoping to accomplish in their own works. 

His musical contributions to the blues opera project with Langston Hughes also hints at social reformer or even socialist sympathies of Johnson. Hughes was, for a time in the 1930s, writing militant poetry reflecting his left-wing convictions. His opera with Johnson expresses those sentiments, too, as it involvements a labor organizer among black sharecroppers in the Jim Crow South, teaching them the path to their liberation is organization (to create a world without hunger, with no color line). Unfortunately, Brown's biography does not explore this, but it may suggest something of the degree to which the Communists during the Depression were influencing Harlem jazz musicians as well as intellectuals like Hughes. 

This desire to be taken seriously as a composer has been a consistent theme with many jazz musicians, who encountered a racist music industry and social prejudice. For instance, Johnson's music for black musical theater, often considered the highlight of the various musicals he was involved with, were limited to black musicals often reliant on racial stereotypes and ignored by the white musical establishment. He also sought to live on his composing rather than the brutal nightclub or dancehall circuit, which were the only venues jazz could be heard in during the 1920s. Although it seems like Johnson still enjoyed performing at Harlem rent parties where fellow stride pianists like Fats Waller and Willie the Lion Smith would also pop in, one can see see how he sought to find a place for his music beyond the limitations imposed on jazz as "entertainment" unfit for the high arts. In addition to his efforts at "serious" music and the consolidation of stride piano, his presence at the early days of jazz in New York surely attest to his importance in the jazz pantheon.

Ornette Coleman: A Harmolodic Life

John Litweiler's biography of Ornette Coleman is a short introduction to the life and works of a major figure in the development of jazz after bebop. As such, it is a worthy read and effort to chronicle his life from his Texas childhood to his career in the 1990s. Of course, like Carr's biography of Keith Jarrett, Litweiler's book is not the most objective overview of Coleman's music. In the introduction, Litweiler makes it clear that he sees Ornette as one of the four major figures in the history of jazz, alongside Buddy Bolden, Louis Armstrong and Charlie Parker. Undoubtedly, Coleman was a major figure in the development of free jazz, but it is not entirely clear how Coleman becomes more seminal than, say, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, or the AACM-affiliated artists out of Chicago. Nonetheless, this leads to the predictable result in which nearly every Coleman recording is praised as exemplary or significant.

At its best, Litweiler's biography should be read with Spellman's Four Lives in the Bebop Business. Litweiler draws on Spellman's important chapter on Coleman, while adding additional layers of detail for Coleman's early life and musical career in periods after 1966. For instance, we learn of the great impact of Coleman's Texas upbringing on his future sidemen, such as Dewey Redman and Charles Moffett, who all grew up in Fort Worth with him. Some of the deep influences of blues and R&B on a young Coleman also become more apparent, just as the the Jim Crow setting limited opportunities for Coleman to be an individual and express himself musically. Coleman's time with a minstrel group in the South and playing in New Orleans are also more interesting than I have realized in the past. For instance, the deep immersion of Ornette's drummer, Ed Blackwell, in New Orleans drumming traditions came about through Paul Barbarin's tutoring of Blackwell. Even more surprisingly, Coleman also played with the father of Wynton Marsalis, Ellis, despite the lack of interest in Coleman's modern jazz in New Orleans.

Coleman's LA years also suggest the importance of California for jazz. Despite the association of the west coast with cool jazz, it becomes clear how a number of innovators were already experimenting and establishing new styles in LA before moving to New York to establish themselves in the jazz capital of the world. It was in LA that Coleman's style began to consolidate (though early on in Texas and the South he was already seen as playing "out there" or "improperly") as he gradually acquired a band (Don Cherry, introduced to him through wife Jayne Cortez, was perhaps his best musical partner). Indeed, according to Eric Dolphy, by 1954 Ornette had already established his unique style on alto saxophone. However, as a black musician attempting something new, he faced adversity from other musicians, racism from bigoted cops in the San Fernando Valley when he ventured to clubs there, and the travails of finding work outside music to support himself. His "big break" eventually came through at the Hillcrest Club engagement of Paul Bley, bringing himself, Cherry, Charlie Haden, and Billy Higgins. His first two LPs, with Contemporary Records, established him as a unique composer and soloist, making the trip to New York City almost inevitable after switching to Atlantic.

The remainder of the biography covers responses to Coleman's music in New York, his influence on Coltrane and the explosion of free jazz in the 1960s and 1970s, his frequent changes in band lineup, and his various ventures in composing, demanding higher fees for performances, recording. Litweiler does analyze some of the shifts in Coleman's sound as his solos by the mid-1960s were more slice of life. Like Mingus, Coleman encountered the same problem of being taken as a serious composer while economic necessity forced him to perform in nightclubs for disrespectful audiences. This is certainly one of the reasons Coleman started Artists House, and became a fixture of sorts of the New York arts and loft jazz scene. But precarious financial standing and his desire to reach a larger audience forced Coleman to continue recording, and his curiosity led to different types of bands (Prime Time, a fusion band) or third stream ventures to have his symphonic pieces performed. Whatever one makes of Coleman's harmolodics or improvisations on trumpet and violin is still up in the air, though Litweiler is full of praise for the airy quality of Coleman's trumpet. Even Litweiler doesn't define harmolodics, which may connote more of a feeling rather than a theory of music. No one really knows what harmolodics are. Even the question of atonality or pantonality is not quite clear in Coleman's oeuvre, as Russell's concept of the latter may be more applicable.

Perhaps subsequent biographies of Coleman will cover his 1970s-1990s depth and life in more detail, in particular albums given short treatment by Litweiler. I would have loved to read more about Coleman the person in his later years, as his reputation was firmly established and he was known globally. What would Coleman have made of the state of jazz in the 2010s? The disconnect between black jazz innovators and black audiences during the zenith of free jazz? Coleman personally knew Anthony Braxton and the Art Ensemble of Chicago, but what did he make of the AACM's belief in community performances and arts in the Windy City? Was he still interested in non-Western music's way of relating to audiences, of which he only found a semblance in the church music he heard while growing up? Many aspects of his life and work remain to be studied. 

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. 

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.

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.