The Jazz Festival is Dead. I’m Not Crying.

by Anthony Medici in Uncategorized

Once upon a time, dinosaurs roamed the land. These behemoths had it their way.  They consumed vast amounts of food.   They trampled and trod upon whatever came before them.  They did not have to adapt, and so they did not.  When a planetary disaster struck, they were helpless and quickly headed towards oblivion. 

            So too the way of the behemoth jazz festival, most notably that espoused and produced by George Wein and a host of follow-the-leader wannabes.  I refer you to the New York Times report of May 19, 2009, “New York Loses Its Jazz Festival.”  According to the article,  “[...] for the first time in 37 years, there will be no major summer jazz festival in New York. Nor will there be related series in Miami or Chicago, as the concert company behind them is suffering a financial crisis.”  Apparently, Festival Productions, the company once owned by impresario Wein, which he sold to a group led by Chris Shields, is out of money and out of steam.   Last year, Festival Productions produced 17 jazz festivals around the world; this year none. 

Festival Productions aspired to be the Starbucks of the jazz festival world; when in doubt, open a festival.  Festivals were everywhere.  They became tourist traps:  come to Arica, Asia, Europe, sip your wine at the beach/  at the mountains/  in the desert.  They were huge, ungainly; you could see their carbon footprint from space.  Some think this was a good thing.  I’m not one of them.  Like the coffee company, they overdid it.  People looked at the product, looked at their now-lighter wallets and decided to forego.  It’s been clear for a while now that these festivals have everything to do with commerce, and not much to do with art, or the advancement of the music.  I know, I know; in this day and age, this sounds Pollyanna-ish, but I believe it is the only criterion worth caring about, worth aspiring to. 

            Read Wein’s memoir, Myself Among Others:  A Life in Music  (actually written by Nate Chinen, on an as-told-to-basis), if you dare, to gain a full comprehension of the crassness and vulgarity that defined Wein’s production work.   He thought nothing of putting on major talents in 15 minutes sets (yes, 15 minutes!), or rushing on stage to herd off performers who violated these ridiculous strictures.  His performer list was a mash-up of endlessly recycled swing-era workhorses and contemporary pop, jazz-light, jazz-smooth, and no-jazz acts.  Indeed, most of these festivals now consist of very little progressive jazz.  Adding insult to injury, Wein, fancying himself a jazz pianist (although of no discernible professional talent) he insisted on inserting himself among musicians of far greater ability, as part of the “Newport All-Stars.”  This hack work defined how he went about the festival business. 

            The argument is made that these festivals provided employment to musicians, an argument to which I am sympathetic.  While I am loathe to deprive any jazz musician of income, I would ask these festival circuit regulars:  you made money, but did you make art?  For the most part, unfortunately, I think it’s the former, rather than the latter.  Indeed, jazz festivals of this sort have only served to turn mainstream (and a very diluted concept at that)  jazz something into like what happened to Baroque music:  good for brunch and picnics, otherwise not  to be considered.  I almost titled this post:  “Why our jazz festivals are bad…and bad for jazz.”  They have turned jazz into the musical equivalent of “sofa art”– art bought for interior decor purposes, rather than for the art itself.  Needless to say, our leading jazz magazines did all they could to promote these festivals, as they represented an advertising bonanza for them; they dare not offer an honest critique of these enterprises.  Fortunately, I am not bound by such ulterior motives.   

            This June I am going to what I consider a “major jazz festival” in New York City, the week-long Vision Festival (now in its 14th year), a hard-core, avant-jazz music festival that revels in  the music and the artists, and provide an environment that nourishes the art.  I believe this is the real future of jazz festivals: small (by Wein standards anyway), focused, driven by the music and the art, serving the aesthetic, and not driven by impresario ambitions. 

The jazz festival is dead!  Long live the jazz festival!