The Present Struggle : Jazz Facing Crushing Odds in Marketplace

Jazz, more than any other art, is peculiarly susceptible to generational assumptions. When I first became aware of jazz, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, it had an aura of hip, upscale success. It was cool and inside, but also sexy and ostentatious, as so many consumer goods of that era were. Jazz was as modern and portentous as the tail fins on your new car, or the lavishly endowed women in Playboy and Esquire.

Not insignificantly, those were the kinds of popular magazines that most frequently ran articles on the jazz heroes of the day: introverted Miles Davis, extroverted Dave Brubeck, brash Maynard Ferguson, cool Gerry Mulligan. Stan Kenton’s music was as progressive as a pink dinner jacket, Duke Ellington’s as suave as pomade.

In the 1950s, jazz was adult vernacular music. Rock ‘n’ roll was for adolescents. That changed in the 1960s, as rock received a second wind from abroad, and jazz was stigmatized on several levels: It was esoteric, therefore elitist (a buzzword of the decade); it was rooted in history, therefore remote; it was adult, therefore suspect. The decades of musical accomplishment in jazz--the tradition of cross-generational influences, of young players proving themselves in the company of honored patriarchs--worked against it at a time when music was supposed to follow a party line. The word was out: Jazz was too serious, it lacked humor, it was difficult, it was irrelevant.

Now, nearly 20 years later, jazz seems to have made a comeback. I say “seems” because the evidence is shaky. On the one hand, jazz-is-back articles proliferate, a handful of musicians and singers associated with jazz have built national followings and reissues of classic jazz albums occupy almost as much floor space in leading metropolitan record stores as classical European music. On the other hand, jazz struggles in the marketplace against crushing odds. Most of the important jazz players of every generation record, if they record at all (many don’t), for small labels, often based in Europe.

In the absence of media attention, the sales potential for those records is severely circumscribed. Jazz in the United States can’t claim a first-class record company or a first-class magazine. There are no commercial jazz radio stations in many key markets (including New York), and it is virtually banished from television. Most major publications pretend it doesn’t exist. The myth that record companies would renew their commitment to jazz in light of the popular successes of Wynton Marsalis, George Benson, Manhattan Transfer and Stanley Jordan is a myth. Atlantic Records, which earned several Grammys with the Transfer, has just wiped out its jazz department. Warners cashed in on Benson’s rise to stardom by signing, several years later, the even glitzier Miles Davis. Columbia’s jazz policy is a shambles, despite the attention accorded Marsalis. RCA has initiated a new series of recordings that confuse jazz with that bizarre yuppie Muzak known as New Age. Even the much heralded return of Blue Note has, with rare exceptions, failed to take notice of the best in modern jazz.

The most important jazz labels at the moment are sisters, Black Saint and Soul Note, and are located in Italy. The most admired jazz magazine, Swing Journal, is published in Japan. Even the Soviet Union’s state-owned label, Melodya, is issuing jazz records, usually with musicians who are pale imitations of Americans. Jazz makes the whole world feel slightly American, but remains underground in its native land.

The blame lies not with the musicians, although it is indicative of the ‘80s that those who have achieved commercial success are the most musically conservative. The tables have turned. What was once fashionable is now seen in perspective, and what was once uncommercial has assumed the status of classic. I suspect that in a few years, serious listeners will be less enchanted with Benson’s condescending pop guitar, Marsalis’s button-down versions of old Miles Davis formulas, Manhattan Transfer’s tricked-up versions of Lambert, Hendricks & Ross, and the navel-gazing of New Age.

The core of musicians who are continuing the jazz tradition into a genuine New Age, who exemplify the struggle for individual expression in spite of marketing blandishments and fleeting Zeitgeists, have a hard time being heard. But they are here, and they have followers, and someday they will receive the attention they deserve.

Which 1980s jazz will still sound fresh and vital a decade from now? Here’s a short introductory list:

One of the finest groups of recent years is the World Saxophone Quartet, which, after a decade of performing, has achieved a bracing mixture of close harmony and expressionistic improvisation. Constructed loosely along the lines of a string quartet, the WSQ consists of David Murray on tenor, Julius Hemphill and Oliver Lake on altos, and Hamiet Bluiett on baritone. Most of the arrangements are by Hemphill, but all four contribute and, though you haven’t seen them on the Grammys, the quartet is a crowd-pleaser despite its unconventional instrumentation. Its most characteristic album to date is “Revue” (Black Saint), but the recent “World Saxophone Quartet Plays Duke Ellington” (Nonesuch) represents a brilliant expansion of repertory.

Lake, another gifted soloist and leader, has spent too much time in recent years trying to get a quasi-reggae band, Jump Up, off the ground. But he’s back on track with “Gallery” (Gramavision), which not only demonstrates his buoyant, quick-as-acid sound, but showcases

One of the finest pianists to come along in in the ‘80s is Geri Allen. She made an impressive debut in 1984 on a German label with “The Printmakers” (Minor Music), and she is sure to be much heard from in the future. Her touch is bright and percussive, and she plays with a dry wit that recalls Thelonious Monk. Two other pianists worth searching out are Rod Williams, an unusually ingenuous blues player who has been heard with Murray’s big band, and Kenny Kirkland, a muscular stylist who used to work with Wynton Marsalis.

In the days when Marsalis was a member of Art Blakey’s graduate school for improvisers (my favorite of Marsalis’s solos are on Blakey’s “Album of the Year” on Timeless), one of his colleagues was Robert Watson, an alto saxophonist with a biting post-bop attack and fervent swing. Watson presently divides his time between the 29th Street Saxophone Quartet, which is more consonant and rhythmic but less imaginative than WSQ, and various solo projects. On “Jewel” (Amigo), he leads a sextet that includes two splendid talents of the ‘80s: pianist Mulgrew Miller, another Blakey alumnus, and drummer Marvin (Smitty) Smith, who is in great demand with musicians of various generations. Smith is the living definition of finesse, and should have a long and very busy career.

Mulgrew Miller recently recorded a fine debut album for the veteran producer Orrin Keepnews. It’s called “Work!” (Landmark) and in addition to spotlighting his cool, calculating touch and a piano style that has roots in bop and modal players of a later generation, it presents two extraordinary sidepersons. Drummer Teri Lynn Carrington is only 20 and she has long since rid herself of any sexist stigma. Bassist Charnett Moffett is 19 and has been breaking it up in New York jazz clubs for at least eight years. As you can see, the tradition of musicians paying dues in supporting-role and then trying out for the lead is alive and well.

Ornette Coleman continues to exert great influence, and one of the most individual performers to heed his harmolodic call is guitarist James (Blood) Ulmer. The term harmolodic is a fusion of the words harmony, movement, and melodic, but don’t let matters of theory keep you from enjoying Ulmer’s compelling and unique music. He combines jazz improvisation with rhythm and blues and country voicings (courtesy Charles Brunham’s violin). A few years back, Ulmer recorded a superb distillation of this unlikely blend for Columbia, “Odyssey,” and was rewarded with dismissal from the label. His new album “Live at the Caravan of Dreams” (Caravan of Dreams Productions) is just as good.

There is no more exciting band today than the George Adams-Don Pullen Quartet, which has made numerous albums for Timeless, Soul Note, and Blue Note. Pullen has perfected a woolly piano style, complete with furious arpeggios played with his knuckles, that nonetheless manages to stick to the chord changes. Adams is a tenor saxophonist with an aggressive, original style and a penchant for blues wailing. Their records are pretty consistent, but “Live at the Village Vanguard” (Soul Note) and “Breakthrough” (Blue Note) are good introductions.

Until recently, jazz singing seemed to be an obsession of the past, yet two remarkable talents have recently come along. Bobby McFerrin, the son of a noted opera singer, is best experienced in concert; you can get a strong taste of his unpredictable and unaccompanied vocal gymnastics on “The Voice” (Elektra Musician). Carmen Lundy’s debut album, “Good Morning Kiss” (Black-Hawk) demonstrates her authority with standards, but the highlight is her original song (a cult favorite in New York), “Perfect Stranger.”

The list goes on. The outstanding flutist of the new generation is James Newton, whose tribute to Ellington and Strayhorn (Blue Note) is the most accessible of his several memorable records. Among trombonists, Craig Harris is in constant demand for his rich, gutbucket approach to open and muted playing, and Ray Anderson, who has been heard in various contexts, scores a personal triumph with his masterful “Old Bottles New Wine” (Enja).

Any list of young saxophonists would have to include Donald Harrison, John Purcell (a master of all the reeds), Bill Easley, Branford Marsalis and traditionalist Loren Schoenberg. On trumpet, look out for Wallace Roney, Terrence Blanchard and Tom Harrell. On guitar, you’ll want to hear the 20-year-old Gypsy, Bireli Lagrene, a virtuoso who captures the dynamism of Django Reinhardt. Among harder young conceptualists, mention must be made of Chicago’s Ed Wilkerson Jr., whose recent “Birth of a Notion” (Sessoms) is a heady production that combines narration, voices, strings and jazz orchestra.

I haven’t begun to mention the musicians whose roots in jazz predate the ‘80s by many years, even decades, but who have managed to renew themselves, drawing sustenance from themselves and from the younger players. On any night, you can hear jazz players that speak our minds yet suggest distant periods and backgrounds: Dizzy Gillespie, Buddy Tate, Doc Cheatham, Sonny Rollins, Sarah Vaughan, Gerry Mulligan, Dexter Gordon, Max Roach, Gil Evans, Hank Jones, the Modern Jazz Quartet, Art Blakey, Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, the Mel Lewis Orchestra, Stan Getz, Arthur Blythe, Henry Threadgill, Lionel Hampton, Lee Konitz, Jay McShann and hundreds of others are very much a part of jazz in the ‘80s.