Moscow Jazz Finds a Champion in Vartan Tonoyan

Remember the address: 23 Chekhov St.--and be sure to drop by next time you’re in Moscow. That is where you will find the Bluebird Club, the pride and joy of Vartan Tonoyan, who may be the Soviet Union’s first jazz impresario.

This 28-year-old Armenian, who lives outside Moscow with his mother, sister and a puppy named Charlie Parker, was in Los Angeles the other day. His old friend Alexei Zoubov, the tenor saxophonist who has lived here since 1984, was showing him around town.

Tonoyan is a symbol of glasnost . In two years he has fought petty bureaucrats to turn his 80-capacity room from a one-night-a-week jazz venue to a seven-night cynosure that has drawn the elite of the Soviet and American jazz worlds.

His passion for jazz began when his grandfather took him to a Duke Ellington concert. “My grandfather was a leader of the Armenian resistance against the Turks,” Tonoyan explains in recently acquired though fluent English. He came to the United States in 1918, and stayed for 10 years; during that time he met Duke Ellington. When Duke played in Moscow in 1971--I was 11--I went to see him; later Duke came to our house and shook my hand.”

A journalism student, Tonoyan began writing about jazz in 1979. “For years it was difficult; they didn’t want to publish my articles. Then I was told not to write so much about American musicians. I replied that when Soviet musicians play 5% as well as the Americans, I will write more about them!”

There have been attempts to block every step in the career of the aggressive young promoter. For five years he tried to persuade the head of the Magazine Publishing Ministry to let him start the Soviet Union’s first jazz magazine. He was told there was not enough paper to print it.

When he approached the director of a cafe about turning it over to jazz, officials said nyet. “But I invited all best musicians, and journalists from the West, TV companies; once I pronounced that we were in business, it was too late for them to shut me down.

“We began in April, 1987. Officials came in and wanted to know what percentage of Soviet music we played, why so many diplomats were coming in. We couldn’t give our admission fees to musicians; about 30% went to the government, 20% to the racketeers; for racketeering you have to pay everybody. Sure, I can say that. I say whatever I like. That’s why my jazz club became famous, because I was saying everything in Soviet Union despite the fact that I could have troubles.

“Since last September we have jazz every night instead of just Wednesdays. We got to the point where if nobody helps us, at least nobody interferes.”

When musicians such as Billy Taylor, Dave Brubeck, Paul Horn or Pat Metheny came to the Bluebird and sat in, the Union of Composers wanted to know why Tonoyan had not asked permission. “I told them no, in jazz everyone has right to play; jam session is not KGB.”

Tonoyan’s tenacity has paid off. For a year, because there was no budget for musicians, he used his own salary of 100 rubles a month ($150) to pay them. “We are cheapest jazz club in world; only three rubles admission. There is no alcohol--in Russia some people have problems with drinking--but we have good food, coffee, juices, very inexpensive.”

On the first anniversary of the Bluebird’s opening, Tonoyan launched a second room, Vartan’s Jazz, a semi-private club aimed mainly at the foreign community. It was here that the last scene was played in the great George Shultz caper.

“I heard he plays tenor sax, so I thought why not invite him? Well, as soon as Soviet officials heard of this, they made all the changes in the Bluebird that I had been requesting for a year: Lighting, furniture, painting, kitchen--to impress him. He didn’t come anyway; but he did play at a private party at Vartan’s.”

And how did the secretary of state sound on tenor sax?

“He played theme only. Our musicians played improvisations.”

Since an agreement was made last fall to pay the musicians, they have been receiving (“depending on the quality”) from 25 to 50 rubles a night. “It’s not bad, because it’s so difficult to find jobs for jazz men who are not invited to perform in official concert halls.”

One of Tonoyan’s problems is defection. The highly regarded avant-garde Ganelin Trio emigrated to Israel. Igor Butman, a tenor player whom Grover Washington heard at the Bluebird, left for Boston to study at the Berklee College of Music; he played on Washington’s recent album.

Soviet jazz is improving, but Tonoyan has ambitious plans to upgrade it. “I want to persuade more Americans to come over on visit, not just through official Gosconcert channels, but just dealing directly with us. This week I go to Washington for TV and radio programs. I will talk about my idea of opening a private jazz school in Moscow to invite famous musicians to teach there. I am trying to find sponsors for this.”

Despite the red tape, the committees, the maze of paperwork and all the other obstacles, he believes that conditions have improved. “The atmosphere for culture is cleaner; the air is more fresh. You can see the changes Gorbachev is making in Moscow, but in Central Russia it moves more slowly.

“It may take two or three decades to accomplish all we want to do, but we are on our way.”