Three Lives in the Jazz Biz

by Anthony Medici in Opinion Posts

I read three books recently that had me musing on the business of jazz.  As listeners, most of us probably focus on the artistic aspects, or at least the entertainment aspects, of jazz.  After reading these three books, you’ll find yourself thinking about the business too.  First up is George Wein’s “Myself Among Others:  A Life in Music,” co-written with Nate Chinen.  You probably know Wein best as the producer of the Newport Jazz Festival, the start of a jaz festival empire that eventually mushroomed into a seeming endless series of jazz festivals around the country, and into Europe and Japan.  In this 546pp narrative, one learns, in ample detail, a lot about the hassles that accompany trying to start or run a festival.  Why did George bother?  Couldn’t be for the money, as he repeatedly tells us that he usually lost money, or maybe occasionally broke even.  After a while, I felt like I was listening in to an IRS audit:  “No, really sir, not a dollar; yes, I know, there were 10,000 people there, yes, all paid, but, what with all the costs, didn’t make a nickel, I swear it.”   They use that same accounting in Hollywood on $200 million grossing films.  The man doth protest too much. 

Okay, so maybe he did it for the love of jazz– and the occasional paycheck.  What did George acomplish?  Well, certainly, he made the jazz festival ubiquitous.  From France, to French Lick, Indiana, George planted a jazz festival.  And, there is no doubt that George’s festivals’ put money in a lot of jazz musicians pockets– a good thing.    It was a welcome paycheck, no doubt.  And George did make jazz safe for Sunday Brunch.  He dragged it from dark, smoky nightclubs, into the bright daylight of seashore towns and resorts.  But the question that nags me is:  did he do the music any good?  I like to ask:  did this individual advance the state of the art?    Frankly, I think not.  I would ask the question if the jazz festival, at least as George conceived and executed it, really did jazz any good?  George’s approach reminds me of those smorgasbord restaurants so popular in the 70s.  You know the kind, a jumble of disparate items thrown out there, in one long, massive cholesterol and fat laden  trough.   All you can eat!  Take a look at the lineup for one of George’s innumerable Louis Armostrong “salutes;”  the roster is too long to enumerate, but it had everyone from Eubie Blake to Sun Ra!  Dozens of performers –all limited to ten minutes each!  And George ended up pulling the plug on Sun Ra to keep him to the time limit.  Appalling! 

George liked to use the same musicians over and over:  Brubeck, Gillespie, Vic Dickenson, Mulligan, Ruby Braff.  George heard the complaints that he didn’t support new music.  The fact is he did when he had to, but he didn’t much like it.  He complains that these acts didn’t draw, but thrown into a typical Wein line-up, what would you expect?  George acknowledges that his heart was with the music of the 30s and 40s.  Yes, George put  on some great names–again and again and again and again.  Not to mention throwing in the more than occasional pop act.  Oh yeah, Kenny G made it in too. 

Every festival is recounted in the sort of detail typical of important battles and presidential campaigns.  There’s an obsessive quality to it.  After a while, I started to feel that it wasn’t worth it.  For all the sound and fury, nothing much came out of it.  A few memorable moments, a couple of good films, but as the 70s moved into the 80s and 90s, the shows seemed as outmoded as the all you can eat buffet.  Now they are everywhere.  But they never seemed less valuable.    

If George dragged jazz from the clubs into the sunny summer sunlight, Max and Lorraine Gordon made careers keeping it alive in the basement confines of their club, the Village Vanguard.  Each penned their memoir about their lives in jazz:  “Live at the Village Vanguard” by Max Gordon, and “Alive at the Village Vanguard” by Max’s wife, Lorraine Gordon.  Max started the Vanguard, perhaps the most famous jazz nightclub in the world.  Lorraine took over after Max’s death.  Here are a few things I learned from this pair of books.  Max started the Vanguard , not as a jazz club, but as a sort of cabaret:  comics, poets, skits.  Jazz sort of happened to come along later.  Max seemed to like his swank upper East Side nightclub, the Blue Angel, more than the Vanguard.  When the Blue Angel folded, Max turned his attention to the Vanguard.  Max had a laconic, slightly cynical approach to the jazz biz.  No rhapsodies to the music here.  This is about the business.

Lorraine’s account is more more passionate and more-hardbitten.  Lorraine was first married to Alfred Lion, and her account of the early years of the Blue Note label is worth reading.  She eventually dumped Alfred and married Max.  It’s a lot of fun to compare their overlapping views of  events.  Lorraine was always passionate about jazz, but, like George, her heart is with the swing and early bop musicians.  She was a passionate advocate for Monk early in his career.  There are many interesting anecdotes in her account.  But I had the same feeling I had when I read George and Max:  this is about a love affair with the business.   This is about the “gate,” about keeping the doors open, about paying the bills, about filling the stage.  The business becomes an end in itself.  It’s real but not lovely.