Listening to an interpretation of Jelly Roll Morton's composition by a white band from 1923 immediately brought me back to the definitive 1926 recording by Morton and his band. While the Original Memphis Five recording is not bad, it certainly sounds more like the late 1910s/early 1920s white bands rather than the hard-swinging Morton recording from a few years later. Morton's band sounds not only jazzier but employs his characteristic breaks and the irrepressible joy of the New Orleans sound.
Alan Lomax's seminal biography of Jelly Roll Morton, Mister Jelly Roll The Fortunes of Jelly Roll Morton, New Orleans Creole and "Inventor of Jazz" is a fascinating read. Based on his interviews with Jelly Roll at the Library of Congress in the late 1930s, Lomax manages to capture much of Jelly Roll's voice in his prose, including additional interludes and other interview materials to paint a fuller picture of Jelly Roll Morton's life and works. As a product of a folklorist who, in the case of some of his field recordings and research abroad in places like Haiti, Lomax demonstrates a persistent interest in the historical and folkloric elements that contributed to the rise of jazz. Part of that interest carries into a keen attention paid to the Louisiana Creoles of Color and the particular social factors that led many to gravitate to music, with less of the primitivist lens used by others who studied "hot jazz" (although the attention Lomax pays to "voodoo" and "hoodoo" may be a remnant of his interest in the exotic cultures he experienced in nations like Haiti, where some of Morton's ancestors came from).
Unfortunately, Alan Lomax was obsessed with the wedge between Creole blacks and non-Creole blacks. Relying on rough generalizations of Creole sophistication meeting black pathos and soul to create jazz music, he pushes a narrative of black/mulatto dichotomy that was already breaking down by the time of Jelly Roll's career. Indeed, as Jelly Roll's own words make clear, he knew and experienced racism across the South (including the infamous chain gangs and fear of lynchings), and was very well aware of the racism in the music industry. However, Jelly Roll Morton and other Creoles interviewed by Lomax for the work were occasionally colorist and dismissive of non-Creole African Americans. Calling him a racist or insinuating he was accepting of Jim Crow is unfair. Especially after Jelly Roll's own experiences with race riots, segregation, a threat of lynchings, and his later marginalization by the seizure of jazz by white-dominated groups in music publishing and the record industry. Like future generations of jazz artists, such as Charles Mingus, Morton lived long enough to see whites make way more money than he ever dreamed of from playing black music. Without a doubt, Morton was critical of the Jim Crowed jazz industry and hoped serious, professional black musicians could maintain some status and protection from its rapacity.
Of course, Lomax was right, in a sense, about the origins of jazz msuic. Jazz was a union of sorts of downtown Creole sensibilities and "rougher" or bluesier African American uptown music. But such a statement could be made about African American music generally (a combination of "refined" and formal musical training with folk, blues, spirituals, work-songs, and others with African influences). Today, it is easier to pinpoint the problems of assuming a New Orleans origin of the music, just as one can be skeptical about Morton's claims to have been the first jazz artist. Clearly, in several cities across the US, the seeds for early jazz were sown by a plethora of different African American musicians active in black musical theater, vaudeville, ragtime, popular music, and blues. Nonetheless, one cannot deny the prominence of New Orleans musicians and their influence in early jazz, especially for Chicago. Morton was, perhaps, the finest composer of the bunch, and had traveled widely earlier than many of them. He may not have "invented" jazz, but Morton was one of the early ones to perfect its form and record some of the best "hot jazz" in the New Orleans style in the 1920s
Unfortunately, with the exception of Johnny St. Cyr and a few other bandmates of Morton, like Omer Simeon, the reader does not find more information about how exactly the Red Hot Peppers excelled so often in the recording studio. The statements of St. Cyr and Omer Simeon reveal Morton to have been a flexible bandleader who allowed members to express themselves on their solos and during breaks, but Morton struggled to maintain a consistent band by the end of the 1920s. Refusing to allow them to drink and excepting a certain degree of professionalism, plus his ego, may have irritated too many bandmates. Things allegedly reached the point where Morton expected the band to play just as he wrote the music, although some of these difficulties may have been due to working with a number of musicians untrained in the New Orleans style. Indeed, from the 1930s through the end of his life, Morton struggled and was considered old-fashioned by the rising swing generation of musicians. However, no one can deny that Morton's mastery of the New Orleans style has bequeathed some gems to the jazz standard repertoire, while showcasing the importance of composition and arrangement in early jazz to create sophisticated, multilayered pieces.
Overall, Alan Lomax's biography lives up to its reputation. Despite the editorial assertions and unfair characterizations by Lomax, this is undoubtedly the closest thing to how Morton would have liked to be remembered. Despite the many gaps in its narrative structure or lack of details for certain moments in his life, Morton's life from a Creole childhood in New Orleans to his unfortunate death in Los Angeles, are vividly brought to life. The gambling dens, brothels, low-lives, hustlers, musicians, failed businesses, wives, girlfriends, and good living made for a storied life, even if Morton embellished or exaggerated. His high opinion of himself, musical genius, and belief that everyone was cheating him must have inspired Charles Mingus, and resonated with other luminaries of the jazz world who sought to escape the confines of the Jim Crow musical industry.
A classic piece of Morton's from 1926. Somehow, I have forgotten about this rousing number which shows Morton's excellent use of breaks Nothing like that old-time jazz to soothe the soul.
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.
Jelly Roll Morton's "Mournful Serenade" sounds eerily similar to Duke Ellington's "Mood Indigo," an excellent example of the blues informing Ellington's tonal jazz compositions. Morton's number, of course is more obviously rooted in the blues with growling trombone and the New Orleans sound.
In my quest to learn more about early jazz, one cannot ignore the Original Dixieland Jazz Band. This white group out of New Orleans were the first recorded jazz (according to most critics) band in 1917. However, before they entered a recording studio, the band went to Chicago in 1916. Before the existence of recorded jazz, the genre was present in a variety of cities besides New Orleans. But, there is a joyful sound in early jazz, including novelty sounds and animal-like horn playing. One can see why recordings like "Livery Stable Blues" were so exciting a century ago and led to other record labels joining the jazz craze.
Classic Jelly Roll Morton recording from the 1920s. Gunther Schuller's Early Jazz has increased my respect for the contributions of Jelly Roll Morton to the evolution of jazz. Looking past his boastful claim to have invented jazz, one can see how his best work with his Red Hot Peppers represented the height of the New Orleans polyphonic ensemble style in terms of composition. Through the musical stew of New Orleans, Morton drew from all genres to offer the world something new. Of course, one could also discuss the influence of "Latin" music on Morton, who was a descendant of Saint Dominguans, knew of Cuban music, and had a father who ended up in Haiti during the US Occupation.
A highlight from Dewey Redman's invaluable Tarik. Redman and Joshua Redman are proof that family dynasties in jazz can actually work. Ed Blackwell, famous for working with Ornette Coleman, brings Congo Square to Dewey Redman's Eastern-sounding musette playing. According to A.B. Spellman, Ed Blackwell actually collaborated with Ornette Coleman in the 1950s when the latter was trapped in New Orleans during a tour of the South before he moved to Los Angeles. Blackwell's New Orleans roots and interest in Cuban and African rhythms undoubtedly impacted Coleman and Redman, as well as Billy Higgins. Blackwell's drum solo here exemplifies how important New Orleans is livening up so many genres of music, from jazz to funk.
Enjoy a song from one of the legends of zydeco music, Clifton Chenier. In this particular song, Chenier draws from R&B and the blues, which is odd to hear when sung in Creole.
I am quite fascinated by music in the various Creole languages, especially those of the French-influenced languages. Lizzie Miles mixes things up by singing in English later in the song, but nonetheless an important and interesting song that shows the retention of Louisiana Creole and its influence in the music of the region.
Papa Celestin's"Marie Laveau" is a catchy song about Marie Laveau, "Voodoo Queen" of 19th century New Orleans. Apparently Desiree Rogers is a descendant of her, if you know who that is.
So I've realized that my earlier post about Latin/Spanish-influenced American music is incomplete. Very incomplete. American music has always been influenced by Caribbean and Latin American music. New Orleans, a cosmopolitan city in the 19th century that was more Caribbean and Creole than Anglo-American, had always been exchanging people, language, religion, and music with Haiti, Cuba, Spain, and other Caribbean cities. That's why New Orleans music tends to sound very similar to Caribbean music: very melodic, polyrhythmic, syncopated, light-hearted, dance music. However, Caribbean music is obviously not monochromatic; Spanish, French, English, indigenous and African influences combined to form unique rhythms and musical styles that continue to separate various forms of Caribbean music in spite of a common African origin for most music of the region. Thus, Jamaican mento or reggae is clearly distinct from Cuban son or mambo, just as Haitian rara is different from Dominican merengue or Trinidadian calypso.
However, their common African substratum and incessant cross-cultural exchanges between the Islands and New Orleans have led to a lot of commonalities that abound today in New Orleans jazz, ragtime, some blues, and even R&B and rock. Indeed, I was quite surprised after attending a Haitian rara concert by how similar the music is to New Orleans dixieland and jazz. Anywho, here is an interesting article about the similarities that exist between Caribbean and New Orleans jazz. It provides several examples of Caribbean influences in New Orleans jazz and explains how referring to the Caribbean connection as "Spanish" is quite far from the truth. While the habanero and other Afro-Cuban rhythms influenced a lot of early jazz, including W.C. Handy's St. Louis Blues, other Caribbean islands such as Haiti and the French Caribbean influenced Cuba's rhythmic diversity and New Orleans. http://www.prjc.org/roots/nojazzandcarribe.html
Anywho, another oft-overlooked American classical composer of the 19th century, Louis Moreau Gottschalk, of Louisiana origin, also drew from African-American and Caribbean music and rhythms for his own compositions. His music, along with some early ragtime, laid the foundation for more Caribbean influences in American music beyond classical (of course other composers, including black composers of the 19th century, were aware of Caribbean music and wrote compositions based on it, along with the numerous dance bands that shifted between New Orleans and the Caribbean).
So here's what y'all have been waiting for, a list of several songs that exemplify what Jelly Roll Morton referred to as the Spanish Tinge, or influences from Afro-Caribbean music. Indeed, Morton once stated that the Spanish tinge was necessary to make jazz.
Louis Moreau Gottschalk has several compositions with Afro-Caribbean themes, including Bamboula, Souvenir de Cuba and Souvenir de Porto Rico. Le Banjo is another interesting composition that refers to the American banjo, which was historically associated with African-Americans because of the instrument's African provenance. I will post multiple youtube links to some of his Caribbean-themed compositons that sought to capture the sound and spirit of the Caribbean.
Now Scott Joplin, the master ragtime pianist best known for composing "The Entertainer," was also influenced by Latin/Caribbean music. One of his pieces, Solace, endeavors to sound "Latin."
Of course there are several examples of New Orleans jazz music which uses habanera rhythms as well as other forms of Caribbean music. Here are examples from the 1920s-1940s:
Of course future jazz songs took more from latin music. Dizzy Gillespie stands out in that regard...
Bill Evans' Nardis takes more from Spanish music than Latin or Caribbean.
