Latin Jazz is Not Real

My dear friend George Rivera does not like the term Latin jazz and he disagrees with the statement in my previous post that Latin jazz is the future of jazz. Maybe I overstated my point. First, who really knows what the future of jazz is? Second, Latin jazz is one of many possible futures. But the gist of my statement is that of all the possible futures of jazz, Latin jazz is a probable and highly promising one.

But George’s objection is not so much about what the future may hold but about the here and now. In his view, Latin jazz is, at best, a marketing label, at worst, a designation that confines and ultimately marginalizes musicians, limiting their circulation in the market and therefore their artistic and commercial success. To be designated a Latin jazz artist is bad not just because the category is meaningless but also because it ghettoizes musicians and prevents their incorporation into the mainstream.

As a political scientist I’m familiar with this sort of argument in regards to the question of cultural maintenance versus assimilation. The argument there goes beyond the question of integration versus marginality. The debate in politics is also about the viability of a stable political system. Luckily, no one has yet argued that Latin jazz is a divisive category that opens up a fault line within the society that threatens to tear it apart. Yet in musical circles, the debate is just as heated as in political and intellectual circles.

I’ll never forget the night at the Blue Note when George and Ray Barretto ganged up on me on the question of Latin jazz. When the subject came up, Barretto lit up like a firecracker and he was vehement. “What is that? There is no such thing!!,” he insisted. You can find Latin in jazz and jazz in Latin but Latin jazz does not exist. If a Japanese musician plays jazz, is that “Japanese jazz?” There was a reference to “Jibaro Jazz” in the conversation that elicited derisive laughter from Barretto. I referred to Miguel Zenon’s Jibaro, which had just come out, as an example. I said that if you added clave to jazz you had Latin jazz whether the musician was Latino or not. Nothing I said moved him or George. In the end we tacitly agreed to disagree.

From the Blue Note we went to a coffee shop on the East Village for coffee and dessert. By then our conversation had moved to other topics. I offered to pick up the tab seeking atonement for my Latin jazz heresy. Barretto made the sign of the cross with his right hand and said: “You are forgiven my son.” Then he gave me a ride to my hotel. When he dropped me off on the corner of 8^th Ave and 23^rd Street, he asked what I had been listening to recently and then we shook hands. Later on he was designated a Jazz Master. When he appeared in Ramsey Lewis’ Legends of Jazz, in what turned out to be his last recorded performance, he was introduced as “one of the leading lights of Latin jazz for more than, well, 40 years!”

A Greatly Exaggerated Death

Terry Teachout’s recent piece in the Wall Street Journal in which, based on his analysis of a recent survey, he suggested that jazz was pretty much dying, has been described as “overwrought” but his analysis has led some to dub the future of jazz as “cloudy” and “dire.” The follow up by Nate Chinen in the August 19 edition of the New York Times has been described as “reasoned” and “very balanced.” In his blog at www.openskyjazz.com/blog, Willard Jenkins describes a number of grassroots initiatives that, in his view, demonstrate the vitality of jazz across the country. One such program, at the National Jazz Museum in Harlem, holds 150 events a year, for example. Nothing is said, however, about how many people attend these events or about their demographic characteristics. We have to assume that the demographic includes young people, which, according to all assessments, must be a key component of any audience development efforts, if jazz is to survive.

In Albany, my friend Tom Pierce, who is as avid a follower of the jazz scene as anyone can be, told me recently: “Basically, I believe the survey is probably generally correct overall, based on my own observations on who attends Jazz events, and the decreased mass media coverage (or lack thereof) of Jazz, which sadly (but understandably) is financially driven by decreased public interest, especially in the demographic groups they target. I would say (for whatever it's worth) that within music fans there may be some increasing interest in ‘Latin Jazz.’ I really like the way musicians from other countries, like Anat Cohen, Ed Simon, Guillermo Klein, Dafnis Prieto, Francisco Mela, David Sánchez, Miguel Zenón (to cite just a few that I've enjoyed recordings by) find a way to meld the ‘Folk’ music (if you will) of their homelands with Jazz.”

While I would agree with Tom that the audience for Latin jazz is growing, there is still a long road ahead in terms of audience development for Latin jazz. My own experience presenting Latin jazz concerts in the New York State Capital Region tells me that, at this point, the audience for Latin jazz is intensely interested, small, slowly growing, but would rather enjoy the music gratis rather than pay; if they must pay they are not willing to pay much. Unless the performers are very well-known, it is hard to draw big audiences to individual concerts. After each concert the invariable response is “Wow, that was amazing, I had no idea! More people should have been here!” But then it is too late. This is a challenging situation because sources of funding are limited, individual donations are small both in numbers and in the amounts given, and ticket sales cover, at best, one-third of the costs. In fact, even with funding from a combination of grants, donations, sponsorships, and ticket sales, it is difficult to pay the musicians what they really deserve. Overall, presenting Latin jazz is a Penelope or Sisyphean operation (take your mythical reference of choice): at best, I cover my costs; there’s never money left for next year.

When Brian Lynch played the Ahora,Latin/Jazz! Series in 2008, he told the audience: “You are listening to the future of jazz, right here!” I think he was right. The incorporation of Bomba, Plena, Merengue, Cumbia, Samba, etc. to traditional jazz harmonies and structures is not just enjoyable, as Tom Pierce indicates, that really is the future of jazz. So long as the Jerry Gonzalezes, Miguel Zenóns, Papo Vázquezes, Chris Washburnes, Bobby Sanabrias, Willie Martinezes, Chembo Corniels, Brian Lynches, and Dafnis Prietos of the world (and trust me, the list is quite longer) keep keeping on, there will be an audience willing to listen and nurture the genre. This will not happen automatically or without the active efforts of commercial and non-profit presenters, for sure. But the point is that, whatever the effort may be, the death of jazz will remain, as Mark Twain said about reports of his own death, greatly exaggerated.

Home

"But where is home?," asks Julia Child (Meryl Streep) to her husband Paul (Stanley Tucci) in one scene of the quasi bio pic of Child, "Julie and Julia." And he responds: "Home is wherever we are." Whether Child and her husband actually had that exchange, I have no idea. Doesn't matter. My wife referred to the scene as we were wondering where our home would be and where do we really belong as we consider leaving our present house for another who knows where within Albany. For many years after I left Puerto Rico in 1980 whenever I was asked whether I missed the island I would say "No, I miss the people I left behind but not the place." And for a long time I have felt homeless, like the "Motherless child" Richie Havens sang about at Woodstock. But homeless without despair because for me people have always been more important than place. When I lived in New York at first I hated the city. I can't remember exactly why but I think my feelings were more ideological than existential. I did love being a student in the city mostly because of the friends I had---a coterie of Colombians, Ecuadorians, Brazilians, Panamanians, and Puerto Ricans at Queens College and a smaller group of Puerto Ricans and Anglos at CUNY's Graduate Center who loved big ideas, music, good food, and art. When I discovered the Village Gate and the Salsa Meets Jazz Series my life in the city changed radically. I still did not think of myself in "A Walker in the City" terms but gradually I began to feel differently about place. My idea of home changed and the city became my place. I've been away from New York now for over 20 years and that distance has made my heart grow fonder. Whenever I go back, which is often, I feel at ease, at home. It makes a difference if you have a sense of the city as a whole, like an aura around your head. I feel like I really know the city, even though what I know is people and places within the city, especially places where one can enjoy good food and good music. So, for me, home cannot be wherever I am; but if there are people I care about and music I can enjoy in any given place, well, that's just about all I need to call that place home. The food is optional.

Smoke(ing)

On Sunday night (8/16) went to Smoke, on 106th and Broadway, to have dinner and to listen to Chris Washburne and SYOTOS. The intensity of this band is extreme. They blew me away with their rendition of Bemsha Swing, appropriately re-named for the occasion, Bemsha Mambo. Ole Mathisen, the sax player, nearly fell off the stage at the end of a blistering solo.

Unlike other times I've been there, the audience was thin and this time no other musicians sat in. Twice before I've seen Hector Martignon show up and sit in on the piano. One other time a trombone player recently moved from California looking to make it in New York joined the band. That night was special because Barry Olson, the band's piano player, who also plays trombone, took it up and so the three trombones made up for one mean jam session, replete with nasty moñas à la Eddie Palmieri and the best days of La Perfecta.

I came in a little late, thinking that the show started at 8:30 pm, so I only caught the last three songs of the first set. I had heard them before and this made me think, "given that inevitably musicians must play their repertoire more than once, what do they live for? To play the same songs over and over ad infinitum? Boring."

Well, not really. I posed the question to Chris during the break. No song is played the same no matter how many times it is played. There's also improvisation, which I thought must be what makes the difference.

Thinking of my own experience as a teacher, I thought that ultimately what makes the difference is the audience, students, in my case, listeners for musicians. Every semester without fail I enter the classroom full of hope, expecting that something completely different, something exciting, will come of my interaction with a new set of students, even if I've taught the course a million times already. Course content does change everytime but only around the edges, pretty much like the rendition of the same song must change, subtly or radically, every time it is played before a new audience. That hope, the expectation that "this time the interaction will be different," must be what musicians (and teachers) live for. The changing audience is the thrill.

Everything is Jazz

I was listening to the opening track of a CD by the Hermanos Cepeda in my car, on my way to the train station, and it was a chant to Eleguá, the god of the crossroads in Santería, set to a plena rhythm. That was interesting. The defining feature of Santería is syncretism, the mixture and synthesis of African and Spanish religious traditions. Jazz, on the other hand, has been defined as the synthesis of the mixture of swing, blues, and improvisation. So, in this Hermanos Cepeda song there is a combination of Cuban and Puerto Rican elements---a plena to Eleguá. That’s just great. Everything is a mix. Nothing is pure, except in its combination. Everything is jazz.

Chembo Corniel

Chembo Corniel is not only a master musician who plays Latin percussion (congas, bata, bongos, etc.) but also an incredibly approachable and likable person. I first saw him play live with trombonist Chris Washburne at a dance party. Washburne had named his band Mambo, Inc. for the occasion. Very few people danced. I didn't dance. I was there just to listen. That night I spoke with him briefly at the door, just a simple "Oh, you are playing, great!." I had a chance to talk a bit more with Steve Glusband, the trumpet player, at the bar during the break and Susie Hansen, the violinist from California, who sat in, was thrilled when I told her I had recognized her citation of the Cortijo song, "Severa" during her solo. I saw Chembo again at the restaurant Kavehaz, after it moved from SOHO to 23rd or 26th street, when he was playing with Ray Vega. His first CD had just come out and during the break I approached him and asked to buy a copy if he had one. Not only did he go out and came back with a copy of the CD but he sat at my table and talked to me as if we had known each other forever. That was special. I brought him to Schenectady in 2007 to play with the Beyond Standards Ensemble, co-led by Flutist Andrea Brachfeld, and he will be back in Albany to play with his group Chaworo on August 29. I can't wait.

Free Latin Jazz

If you happen to be in the vicinity of Albany, New York, on August 29, 2009 try and make it to the Washington Park Parade Grounds at 12 noon. Why? The amazing Latin jazz group Chaworo, led by master conguero Wilson "Chembo" Corniel will be playing at the Albany Latin Fest. This is a free concert. "Chembo has been in the music business for 35 years and his resume is a veritable "who's who" of Latin and Latin jazz. He's paid his dues and now he's leading his own ensemble and going really strong. Check him out on You Tube.